Charley loaded another box into the back of the truck. This was box number five for the day, and nothing of value had been found. She was starting to wonder if there were any antiques in the garage at all. There certainly were a lot of clothes. Women’s clothes. What a single man was doing with all those clothes was a mystery. Maybe they were his mother’s things. That would make sense, if he was dealing with her estate. But if that were the case, his mother dressed quite young.

She dusted off her hands and walked back into the garage. The door rolled down, but the short time it had been open had dropped the temperature once again and Charley blew heat on her fingers. Maybe she would go in the house to warm up for a minute before starting on the next box.

As she opened the door to the kitchen, Dorothy waved her inside. “Come on in, hon. Do you need a break?”

“Yes. I just need to get warm.” Charley climbed onto a stool sitting by the counter.

“I’ll make you some hot cocoa, if you’d like.” Dorothy didn’t wait for confirmation. She opened a cupboard and brought out a sauce pan.

“That sounds delicious. Thank you.”

As Dorothy worked, Charley shifted on the stool. She’d decided to ignore her own resolution and wore another one of her favorite pairs of socks. The left one was red, white, and green checkers, the right had matching colors in stripes. She wore a green pleated skirt so she could show them off. If Alexander didn’t like them, too bad.

A doorbell rang and Dorothy turned, patting her hair. She seemed flustered. “I’ll go get that.” She walked toward the mud room that connected to the back of the kitchen.

“I thought the butler got the door.” Curious, Charley slid off the stool to follow Dorothy.

“This is the service entrance bell. It’s probably a package, and most packages that come are for me.”

The mud room was one quarter the size of the kitchen, with windows all along the back. Dorothy opened the door and a man in a UPS uniform stood there holding a package from Amazon. He had a serious George Clooney look-alike thing going on, with salt-and-pepper hair. When he saw Dorothy, his smile widened, his laugh lines crinkling. “Good afternoon, Dorothy.”

“Hello, Paul.” Dorothy smoothed the front of her apron. “How are you today?”

Paul leaned against the door jam. “Fine.” He handed her the package. “You order another book?”

Dorothy blushed. “You know I love to read.”

“What is it this time? Another Patterson novel?”

“Dean Koontz.”

“Ah, the latest Jane Hawk, I suppose?”

She laughed and fingered the package. “You know me too well.”

Charley rocked back on her toes. This was too cute to watch. All kinds of questions filled her head.

Paul stood there, grinning for a moment longer before Dorothy seemed to realize Charley was standing behind her. “Oh, Paul. This is Charley. She’s an antique appraiser.”

Charley took a step forward and stuck her hand out. “A pleasure.”

He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. Well, I best be going. I have a lot of packages to deliver. This time of year is a bear.”

“I bet.” Dorothy grinned at him then waved as he turned to leave. “Bye,” she called.

After Dorothy shut the door, Charley put her hands on her hips. “Oh. My. Gosh. You like him.”

Dorothy shook her head as she walked back into the kitchen. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come on. You’re blushing ten shades of red.” Charley held in a laugh. How cute was that? They were adorable, flirting with each other like that.

Dorothy brought her hand up to her face. “I am?”

“Spill it. Who is he?”

“No one.” Dorothy pulled the cocoa out of the cupboard. “He’s just the delivery man.”

“Whom you have a crush on. Admit it. It’s obvious he likes you.”

Dorothy jerked her head around. “Really?”

“You mean you hadn’t noticed? He is totally into you.” Charley grinned. “And he’s hot.”

Dorothy fanned her face. “He is, isn’t he?” She laughed. “Oh, listen to me. I’m so silly.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re silly. I think he likes you.”

Dorothy waved away her comment. “Just you sit down. I’ll get that hot chocolate for you.”

Charley sat back down on the bar stool and put her elbows on the counter. “How long have you worked here?”

Dorothy paused, looking up at the ceiling. “I was hired twenty years ago by Mr. Norris senior. Alexander was just a boy.”

“A boy? How old is he?”

The smile slid off Dorothy’s face. “Grief has a way of aging a person.” She opened the fridge and pulled out the milk.

“Did his mother recently pass?”

Dorothy shot her a look. “No. His wife.”

“Oh.” Charley sucked in a breath. That was worse than losing a parent. No wonder he didn’t want to go through the boxes in the garage. “How long ago?”

“Two years.”

She bit her lower lip. That explained why he was grumpy. He was still grieving his wife. And Charley was probably a reminder of this because of why she was there. To get rid of all his wife’s things. Sympathy made her heart squeeze. But two years was a long time. He needed to get past it. “Has he dated anyone since?”

Dorothy shook her head. “No.”

“He should. It would help him heal.”

A smile formed on Dorothy’s face. “You’re right.” She stirred the liquid in the sauce pan, glancing back at Charley. “What are you doing tonight?”

Charley choked on her spit. “Me? What are you, crazy?”

Dorothy’s gaze traveled over her. “You’re young and pretty. Why not you?”

“First of all, he’s too old for me.”

“He’s thirty.”

“Oh. Is that it? I guess I was thinking he was older. But still, too old for me. I’m only twenty-two. He’s quite a bit older than me.”

Dorothy shook her head. “Not so much older that it wouldn’t work.”

“But he’s my employer. My father would kill me if I screwed up this job.”

An eye-roll and a snort came from Dorothy. She poured the hot liquid into a mug.

“And besides, he’s mean and grumpy.”

“Who’s mean and grumpy?”

Charley jumped at the sound of Alexander Norris behind her. Before she could think of something plausible to say, words started tumbling out of her mouth. “My father’s...gardener. He’s terrible.”

Alexander’s eyebrows rose. It looked like he didn’t believe her, so she just kept talking. “Yep. He curses...at the roses. And talks down to the lilies. I don’t even know why my father hired him. He’s so rude.”

Alexander stared at her, his face a mask of stone.

She slid off her stool. “Well, I best be getting back to work.”

“Don’t forget your hot chocolate.” Dorothy handed her a mug.

“Thanks.”

Dorothy turned to Alexander. “Do you want a cup?”

He frowned. “I don’t drink chocolate.”

Charley was going to slink off into the garage, but sometimes her mouth ran away with itself. This was one of those times. “Maybe you should. Maybe it would make you smile more.” Before he could answer, she opened the door and walked out, her fingers shaking.

How could she have talked to him like that? She was asking to be fired. But it had felt good to say that to him, and she hid a smile as she sipped her cocoa. The door to the garage opened and Mr. Norris stepped out.

Crud. Here it was. He was going to fire her now. She set her mug down on a shelf she’d cleared off yesterday and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Do you need anything, Mr. Norris? I mean, Alexander?” It felt weird to call him that.

His gaze traveled over the boxes remaining in the garage. He stayed silent for a moment, taking in the space she’d cleared out. Then he stepped back. “Your work so far has been satisfactory. You may stay and finish.”

Charley knew she should shut up and let him leave, but she couldn’t help it. Words came flying out of her mouth. “Satisfactory? Really? I can’t believe it. I’ve done satisfactory work!” She clapped her hands together. “I must go tell all my friends on social media.”

Alexander’s lips twitched. “You might want to tone down the sarcasm, Miss Davis. I could still let you go.”

“Wait, I thought we were on a first name basis here. Now I’m back to Miss Davis?” Why was she still talking? Charley knew she should get back to work and ignore his condescending tone, but for some reason, her mouth wasn’t obeying her.

He took several steps closer to her, until he was standing just inches away. “I made a mistake yesterday.”

She swallowed, suddenly aware of his broad shoulders and musky smell of his cologne. He towered over her, and it made her feel even shorter. “A mistake hiring me?” she asked, her voice small.

His lips twitched again, but they stilled so quickly she thought maybe she imagined it. “No. A mistake in telling you to call me Alexander.”

“Oh.” She had to break eye contact because his gaze was so intense. The garage grew suddenly too hot. “What should I call you?”

He leaned down closer to her, until his mouth was next to her ear. Her heart pounded at his proximity. “I honestly don’t care anymore. Just don’t call me the gardener.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as he stalked toward the door. Before she could think of something to say, he was gone. Charley stood there, staring at the door handle, wondering why her breath seemed to be so shallow. Why had the simple conversation shaken her so much?