Free Snow Dance by Alicia Street, Roy Street Page A

patch of ice. Her feet went flying. She let go of the box, her hands reaching back automatically to break her fall as she dropped to her butt.
    The sound of her paint cans hitting the asphalt brought Russ sauntering over. Amanda tried to get on her feet before he reached her, but all she could manage was an embarrassing crab walk with her high-heeled boots and her raw, ice-burned palms slipping and sliding.
    Gripping Amanda under her arms, Russ hoisted her onto her feet. He stayed behind her a moment. Despite her woolen pea-coat she noticed the strength of his enormous hands as he steadied her. Her blue silk scarf had fallen open, and his breath, warm and moist, made the bare skin on her neck prickle.
    She moved away and brushed the snow off her coat. “Thanks much.”
    He gathered all the paint cans, his thick fingers curled around the wire handles, and said, “I’ll take these. You get the box.”
    She grumbled, “I’m still quite capable of carrying—”
    “I know that. But there’s something you don’t know about me.”
    “Oh?”
    “I’m as stubborn as you.” Russ stopped beside the rear of the car and grinned over his shoulder at her.
    Amanda noticed he had a sexy mouth. And not a bad face either. Nothing compared to the young cashier’s camera-ready looks, but a strong jaw, dark eyebrows beneath shaggy, brown bangs and gray-green eyes that clearly said, Nobody tells me what to do .
    But Amanda reminded herself she wasn’t interested. Not in Russ McNeil. Not in any man.
    She popped open the hatch. Russ grabbed the box, and as she watched him neatly arrange the cans inside it she had the strangest sense that he was somehow arranging her life.
    Half her butt on the driver’s seat, one foot still outside the door, she said, “Thanks again, Russ.”
    He strolled toward her. “Your store’s on the corner of Hanson and Oaks?”
    “That’s right.” She pulled in her foot and sank back into the driver’s seat.
    Russ stood there holding her door open. “If you’re looking to hire some good, honest help, I know a certain young lady who could use a part-time job. Her family’s having a hard time right now. She’s the kid sister of the boy you just met working at the register. Her name’s Casey Richardson.”
    “Sure. Send her around. Bye, Russ. And thanks again.” Amanda started the engine, figuring he’d back away so she could close the door. But he didn’t.
    When she looked at him, Russ gave her a surprisingly boyish grin and said, “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”
    Amanda chewed her lip. How would she get out of this one after his gallant rescue maneuver? “Now’s not a good time. Maybe once I get things settled.”
    “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me…yet.”
    “What?” She stared at him, wide-eyed.
    “Just kidding.” He closed the door saying, “I’ll send Casey to see you about that job.”
    “Please do.” She waved, backed her car up and drove out into the street.
     
    ***
     
    Amanda lived in a cottage not far from the Peconic Bay, but right now she drove to her store-to-be, which sat just on the outskirts of downtown North Cove. The town consisted of a couple streets and a few random shops. Her own shop had once been a stately, hundred-year-old farmhouse that someone had gutted and turned into a commercial space.
    On her way there Amanda wished she’d left the porch light on so she wouldn’t end up slipping on the ice again. But as she pulled into the driveway she saw the lights inside her shop blazing bright. The good part was the light coming through the windows would help her see the walkway. The bad part was that she clearly remembered turning off all the shop’s fluorescents and even the lamp in the office.
    She trudged up the walk with her armload of paint, set the box down and tried the back door. Still locked. A little nervous about the possibility of someone having broken in, she jogged around to the front. Also locked. She opened the door and