The Charm Offensive. Cari Lynn Webb

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      “What about tomorrow?” April refused to take her purse.

      “One day at a time.” Or, Sophie corrected, one crisis at a time. The cart rolled forward—or one customer at a time. She tossed April’s purse on the counter and spun, gripping the cart handle and stopping the cart from moving another inch. “I won’t let you shelve this dog food.”

      “You can’t exactly stop me.” He tipped his head toward April. The woman scooted her pregnant belly back behind the counter like the good employee she wanted to be.

      Sophie frowned.

      “She can’t do any heavy lifting,” her helpful customer continued, his voice all patient logic and reason. “And you obviously have a busy morning.”

      She’d already had too much busy in her morning. She wanted her normal routine. The one where everyone listened to her and followed her rules. “If you fracture your back on my property, you can sue for damages,” she said. “I can’t have a lawsuit.” She most definitely couldn’t have a lawsuit, not with everything else.

      “I’m well trained in heavy lifting.” He pushed on the cart.

      Sophie shoved back, stalling the cart in the doorway and her customer, with his warm smile and easy banter, in the storage room. But she’d never trusted charm and understood all too well the power of false advertising. She’d purchased those trendy boots that had guaranteed flexibility and pillow-like cushioning and all-day comfort and only ended up with raw, open blisters on both heels after one day. Shoes and men were not mistakes she intended to repeat.

      The sleigh-style bells chimed on the front door. April stashed her purse, settled on the stool and slid the kitten box closer.

      Sophie never loosened her grip as she twisted around and exhaled. Everything was about to return to normal. She gave a quick prayer of thanks for the arrival of her practical, steady and composed best friend.

      Ruthie stepped inside, threw her hands wide and grinned at Sophie. “Okay. Duke and Lady are out back running with their doggy friends. I’ve rescheduled my morning conference to this afternoon. I’m all yours until one o’clock.”

      The bells chimed again. Matt, Ruthie’s fiancé since their Thanksgiving engagement, strode in. “Sophie, please tell me that Ruthie won’t have to work the cash register.”

      “April is still here to train me.” Ruthie waved at April before jamming her elbow into Matt’s side. “Besides, I can run that little credit-card machine without crashing it.”

      “Sophie, maybe I should stay here.” Matt dropped his arm around Ruthie’s waist and tugged her into his side.

      There was nothing possessive or overpowering about Matt’s embrace. It was as if he simply needed Ruthie closer to him in order to breathe. A sigh shifted through Sophie. Love suited her friends.

      Matt grinned at Sophie. “We can send Ruthie to my job site. She’d be safer using power tools.”

      “I lecture to halls with over four hundred college freshmen.” Ruthie pushed on Matt’s chest, but he never loosened his hold. “I can handle this.”

      Sophie discovered her first smile of the morning. Her grip on the cart eased. She’d needed her friends. The ones that understood why doggy day care clients dropped their dogs off in the back, but entered the store from the front. The ones that followed the protocol and never wavered. Never altered Sophie’s rules. Never commandeered rolling carts. If it had simply been important to Sophie, they’d have done it to appease her. But Sophie’s priority was Ella’s safety and her friends recognized that, too.

      She spun around and faced her kitten rescuer. “You can get your dog food now. I’ve got this.”

      “Sophie, let Matt deal with that loaded cart,” Ruthie said.

      “Out of the way.” Matt’s strong hands landed on Sophie’s shoulders and stilled. “Brad?”

      Sophie’s customer leaned across the cart and reached for Matt’s hand. “I didn’t want to interrupt. This must be Dr. Ruthie Cain, the fiancée you can’t stop bragging about?”

      Ruthie’s voice echoed the happiness in her wide smile. “Still getting used to that.”

      “Ladies, this is Brad Harrington,” Matt said. “I’ve been a consultant for Brad going back several years now.”

      Matt wore stained jeans, a plaid button-down shirt and steel-toed boots for his part-time job renovating historic buildings in the city. He also spoke more than half-a-dozen languages fluently and primarily worked as a translator contracted to the United States government for secret missions that Sophie believed saved the world, but Matt never confirmed nor denied. He was quite simply a brilliant mind wrapped in a handsome package. Sophie shifted her attention to Brad in his jeans, pullover and dimpled smile.

      He was Matt’s friend. But she didn’t trust him and definitely didn’t want to know anything more about him. She was better off cataloguing Brad as that random kitten finder. “Do you work with Matt on his renovations or on his translation jobs?”

      “Matt has the gift with languages. I’m in security.” Brad edged around the cart, stepped behind the counter and picked up the security camera from the floor. “I make these work correctly.”

      Matt frowned at her. “Sophie, I could’ve introduced you to Brad a while ago. I thought you got that taken care of.”

      “The manual to install it made it sound easier than it is.” Sophie took the camera from Brad and set it on the counter. “I’ll get to it.”

      “I bet you haven’t fixed that front lower window yet, either.” Ruthie eyed the kitten box.

      “Some things came up.” Like the trip to Chicago for a second opinion on Ella’s eye surgery. There weren’t any extra funds for window repair. And now she was out of funds, thanks to her father. “It’s fine. The glass is taped and I added a piece of plywood on the inside.”

      “Anyone can kick that in,” Brad said.

      “That’s what I told her when she did it,” April added. The extra tablespoon of gracious, obliging customer service saturated any condescending dips in her tone.

      “Anyone can bust through the glass door if they really wanted to steal catnip.” Sophie scowled at Brad and willed him to be stiff and cold and abrasive like those expensive red heels she’d seen in the window display on Union Street. An alarm was quite low on her list of things to deal with. If she didn’t have a store, she wouldn’t need an alarm. She wanted to pull out her phone and see if her dad had replied. Or, better yet, keep calling him until he answered.

      “That’s why you need that installed.” Brad gripped the cart handle and pulled, rolling past her. His tone patient, his voice calm, his words all too reasonable.

      Sophie crammed her hands into the wide front pocket of her sweatshirt and tipped her chin up, defiance tumbling through her words. “Show me someone who will install it for free and I’ll get it done today.”

      “I’ll do it.” Brad smiled at her, distracting her with his dimple.

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