Free Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska by Loree Lough Page A

her how glad he was that she was safe and sound. And if she didn’t quit looking at him that way, he might just do it. Instead, he cleared his throat and barked, “So where is it?”
    “You mean the checkbook?”
    He didn’t trust himself to speak.
    “It’s in the drawer under the cash register. Right where your aunt Olive has kept it for years.”
    Which he’d know, her remark implied, if he’d helped out a little more around here. Somehow he found the gumption to walk away from her. Within minutes, he’d found the checkbook and made a point of focusing on its pages as she puttered in the shop.
    It wasn’t easy, concentrating on debits and credits, with her passing back and forth, dusting this, polishing that, and standing back to squint at her artfully balanced arrangements, but somehow Bryce managed to make a sizeable mess around the cash register. It didn’t escape his notice how quickly Sam’s bad mood evaporated. Debbie’s snits could last hours—if not days. Not Sam! Within minutes, she was back to her usual smiling, happy self, humming along to the Christmas tunes blaring from the store’s speakers as she went about her work.
    He hadn’t needed an hour to double-check her math, but because he couldn’t come up with another excuse to hang around and watch her work, he’d gone over every entry a half dozen times. As much as he hated to, Bryce eventually pushed back from the counter. After their set-to earlier, she’d probably decided he was a boor and a brute, and if he sat much longer, pretending to be engrossed by addition and subtraction, she’d see him as math-challenged, too.
    “Things looks good,” he said, standing.
    She’d been putting price stickers on mice in Santa hats and looked up to say, “Sorry.”
    Sorry? Bryce didn’t get it, and said so.
    “Well, the way you were poring over those figures, I naturally presumed you were trying to find a mistake.” And grinning, she shrugged. “So…sorry to disappoint you.”
    “I’m not disappointed.” He could tell by the tilt of her head and raised eyebrows that she wanted more. “Good work?” Aw, man, he said to himself, why’d it come out like a question?
    “Uh, thanks,” she said and went back to work.
    Bryce realized she’d been at it alone for twelve straight hours, maybe more. “So, where’s Olive today?” he asked.
    Sam stepped up beside him to tuck the price stickers into the drawer where the checkbook was kept. “She had some errands to run, so I gave her the day off.”
    “ You gave her the day off? But you’re—”
    Facing him, she narrowed her eyes. “Got a problem with my management style, Mr. Stone?”
    He watched her gaze flick from his good eye to the bad one and back again, as if oblivious to the fact that the left one was blind. The thing made most people so uncomfortable, they looked anywhere except at the patch. “As somebody who used to order tough guys around twenty-four-seven, I can honestly say you’re doing just fine.” He didn’t add that Sam had just herself and Olive to “manage.”
    In place of the “thank you” he expected, Sam groaned and then pointed at the shelf above the cash register. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud, would you look at that?”
    He followed her gaze but saw nothing that should inspire her obvious frustration. Even before he managed to ask, she’d dragged the stepladder behind the counter and started climbing. When it started wobbling again, she grabbed the shelf for balance
    “I declare, Sam, you’ll be the death of me yet.” Hands on the rails, he steadied the ladder as she tidied the colorful cookie tins. “There!” she said, making her way back to the floor. On solid ground again, she propped both hands on her hips. “So what’s on your schedule tomorrow?”
    He felt like a giant, standing there looking down into her pretty face. “I, uh, well, um…” A giant idiot , Bryce thought, and after clearing his throat, he tried again. “Why do you ask?”
    “I