LITMIR.BIZ

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before Peyton got any ideas. It was bad enough that he was going to be spending the next day or so looking over their old accounting system and seeing how bad things had gotten. But having him spending nights here, too?

      “You know,” Peyton said, “I think I’ll give the office a call. It would be a lot more convenient to just stay here. And if I can get my job done sooner, I’ll be saving the company money in the long run. They’ll surely see the savings there.”

      As Peyton pulled out his cell phone and prepared to dial, Megan’s heart sank. She’d hoped that she could lock him out of the shop each evening, knowing that she’d be present whenever he uncovered the problems facing the store—and that she could explain and maybe soften the blow.

      But how could she do that if he had access to the office when she wasn’t around to protect Mr. Carpenter?

      She wanted to snatch the cell phone out of his hands, but she’d been raised better than that. So she stood there pretending to smile gamely, feeling absolutely powerless and at her wit’s end as she shot a glance at the one man who had the ability to turn her life upside down once again.

      It had taken her three long years after the divorce to put her life back to rights again, and she was finally seeing some light at the end of a very dark financial tunnel. Then in walked Peyton Johnson, who had the ability to jerk the rug out from under her and shake up all she’d fought so hard to build.

      But she was up for the challenge. There was no way she’d stand by and let another man dash her dreams again without putting up a fight.

Chapter Two

      Clay pulled out his cell and called Zoe, his executive assistant, who knew where he was and what he was up to.

      “This is Peyton Johnson. I’m at the Brighton Valley store, and it’s come to my attention that there’s an apartment over the shop. I’m not sure how that will pencil out for the corporate bean counters, but it would sure be more convenient if I could just stay there. That motel you reserved for me is clear across town.”

      “You own the building,” Zoe told Clay. “I don’t have to clear anything—”

      “You’ve got that right, ma’am. So would you mind checking into that for me?”

      “I...uh...” Zoe paused. “So this phone call is just for show?”

      “Yes, it is.”

      “And all I’m really supposed to do is listen while you speak?”

      “That would be the case. Yes.”

      “Very clever. I’ll have to add an extra line to my job description. The executive assistant must be bilingual in both English and in reading the boss’s cryptic telephone conversations.”

      “Something tells me that could come in handy, especially while I’m in Brighton Valley.”

      “Then I’m on it. Looks like you’re in luck, Clay— I mean Peyton. I can assure you, or rather everyone at the Brighton Valley store, that corporate will approve of anything you suggest.”

      “It certainly would be in their best interests to do so.” Clay smiled. “Thanks, Zoe. Then I’ll just wait for you to check into that. How soon do you think you can call back?”

      “Would five minutes be a believable response time?”

      “That works for me.”

      “All right, then. You got it, boss. Clock is ticking.”

      Before Clay could hang up, he spotted Megan pushing her son away from the computer workstation and shoving the worn green backpack into his arms. Then she pointed at the counter in the front of the shop.

      Clay placed the cell phone back in his pocket as she muttered something that sounded like, “Not while he’s here, you’re not.”

      Tyler looked at Clay, then shuffled his thin-framed adolescent body in the direction his mother was pointing.

      So what wasn’t Megan allowing her son to do while “Peyton Johnson”—or rather, a corporate rep—was here?

      When Clay glanced at Megan, she flashed a smile at him. It was a pleasant smile, but it seemed a bit forced.

      What made her so uneasy?

      “Why don’t I show you around the shop?” she asked.

      Clay didn’t need a tour. He’d had the run of the place since he was sixteen. He was also the owner of the building. But, of course, he couldn’t let on about that.

      “Sure. Let’s get started.” The sooner he got this mess squared away, the sooner he could get the heck out of Brighton Valley. And this time, he’d leave it behind for good.

      “You saw the front desk when you came in,” she said. “We also have our refurbished computers and some new Geekon models for sale up there. We don’t really keep a lot of cash in the store, just enough to make change for the customers. We take credit cards, too, but you probably won’t be dealing with any of that.”

      She must have forgotten that he would have had to deal with all of that if a customer had actually come into the shop when she’d abandoned him to get her son an hour ago. But before either of them could comment, the bell on the door jangled, and an actual customer did walk in.

      Or stomped in was more like it, a laptop tucked under his arm, a grimace on his face. “Where’s Don? He was supposed to have fixed this darn computer, and I waited nigh on three weeks for it. He finally called me yesterday and told me I could pick it up, so I did. But the fool thing still isn’t working right.”

      Riley McLaughlin, a rather crotchety fellow who’d bought the refurbished machine from Ralph back when Clay used to work here, set the outdated laptop on the counter. “This is the third trip to town I’ve had to make, and I still can’t get online or send an email. How can you folks run a business if a customer can’t get any satisfaction?”

      “Don isn’t here right now,” Megan said, “but if you want to leave the laptop here, I’ll have him take another look at it.”

      “And then what?” Riley clucked his tongue. “I’ll have to wait another three weeks to get it back?”

      “I promise to make sure he looks at it as soon as he gets into the shop. It’ll be a high priority.” Megan reached under the counter and pulled out the plate of cookies. “Here, try one of my snickerdoodles. I made them this morning.”

      Riley knit his bushy gray brows together, then glanced at the sweet treats, grumbling as he did. Yet he took one of them and bit into it.

      “Let me take a look at that for you,” Clay said. “But in the meantime, we just happen to have one of the new Geekon laptops here. Why don’t you take it home and give it a try. The corporate office is offering a special deal on this particular model, and there’s a ten-day free trial period.”

      Riley, who was chomping away on Megan’s cookie, turned and studied Clay.

      For a moment, Clay feared the guy might have recognized him. That is, until Riley asked, “Who are you?”

      “Peyton Johnson. I work out of the Houston office.”

      Riley’s scowl faded, and he let out a little humph. “I always did like free trials. But how much do those new laptops cost?”

      “From what I understand, if you like the product and are willing to talk up Zorba the Geek, as well as Geekon computers, you can buy it for a a hundred dollars.” Clay reached for the box on the shelf that contained a new Geekon Blast, knowing that price was an unheard of bargain—even for a fellow who was as close to his nickels as Riley was. And it would certainly work a lot better at placating an angry customer than a couple of cookies—no matter how good they were.

      At that moment, Clay’s smartphone rang—no

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