Jenna Mindel - A Soldier's Valentine

Ginger checked her watch. Almost ten. She had to open. She had to get away from this new sense of awareness between them. “I better get back. Thanks for the tour.”

Walking away, she swung back around. He’d made her forget all about the importance of the upcoming Valentine’s Day contest. No time. “After you’re settled in, we can chat more about your window display and the contest the chamber is sponsoring.”

“Can’t wait.” His voice sounded flat.

Ginger felt her cheeks flare yet again, right along with her ire. The man might not talk much, but he sure got his message across.

Captain Zach did things his way.

She backed up and nearly tripped over another box.

Zach grabbed her arm to steady her.

She did a little growling of her own. Ginger needed to get back to her home base before she made a bigger fool of herself. “Thanks.”

“It’s the heels.” He gave her platforms of black suede a pointed look.

“I found them at a thrift store,” she blurted.

Not that it was any of his business how she spent her money, but she didn’t want her landlord to think she spent frivolously. Maybe because when she was a kid coming home with an expensive treasure she’d found for a song, she’d had to explain her actions. How many times had she played defense to her father’s offense? Her mother had finally warned her not to let Dad see them for fear of an argument.

Ginger escaped through the glass slider, closed it behind her with a soft click and blew out her breath.

What was the deal with Zach Zelinsky?

He sure wasn’t a chatty guy, and that made her wonder why he’d gone into retail. And why’d he make her so nervous with his gruff ways? She wasn’t a clumsy person, but around him she couldn’t keep solid footing. The man was definitely intimidating. And Ginger did not like to be intimated.

* * *

That evening, Zach knocked on the sliding glass door. Ginger had kept it locked throughout the day, and he was glad since he’d been in and out all afternoon. That locked door had kept her few customers from spilling into his space. Several had peered in at him while he’d unloaded boxes, though. Passing his furnace inspections had been the last of the paperwork required before he could finally open his doors. All he needed to do was finish stocking the shelves and then start making new glass.

She walked to the slider and unlocked her side. Opening the door, she peered up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. “Hey.”

“Are you closed?”

She nodded. “Yup. This time of year I’m open Tuesday through Saturday, ten to six.”

“Good hours.” He liked having two days off in row and might as well be open the same times as her.

“I open Mondays, too, starting in May for summer hours. But I’m always closed Sunday.”

“Day of rest?”

“That and church.” She smiled.

He needed to find the right church, but he had time to figure it out. “I’ve unpacked, if you’re still interested.”

He wasn’t being nice. He wanted to see her reaction to his glasswork. Was it good enough? She seemed to know a lot about running a gift shop and the expectations of local customers.

“Absolutely.” Her pretty eyes gleamed. “Do you know how hard it was not to press my nose against this glass door like my customers?”

He chuckled and stepped aside. She’d had two elderly women in her store, and they had indeed pressed their noses on the glass and watched him unpack.

He’d utilized most of the clear shelving that came with the shop but had arranged it differently—out in the open instead of up against the walls, giving the small retail space an artsy feel like the studio where he’d apprenticed and learned the trade.

He watched her closely as she walked around his displays, her slender fingertips gently touching glass ornaments and bowls. She was careful, but thorough. Was she putting him on, looking that interested?

“Wow.” Ginger stopped and stared at one of his few glass sculptures. It was a twisted mass of smoky glass with a dash of red at its center that glowed from the light he’d installed underneath it. “How’d you come up with this?”

He shrugged.

Emotions had a way of working their way in while he shaped glass. He’d been running on empty when he’d made that particular sculpture. Frustrated and angry after a long deployment, he’d clung to a sliver of hope from a Bible scripture he’d read from the book of Jeremiah. He’d memorized verse eleven of chapter twenty-nine and had held on to its promise. He’d even chanted it when things got rough in the field.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

“This is so beautiful.” She looked at him in awe. As if she couldn’t believe he’d made it.

“Thanks.” Sometimes, he couldn’t believe it either.

Ginger’s hair was a riot of red curls that caressed her shoulders. A live flame she was, radiating warmth. It seared like a pipe burn, this pull she had on him. Or maybe more like a backyard campfire luring him near, daring him to pull up a log and relax. But even campfires burned if a person got too close.

She nodded toward the workshop. “When will you make new stuff?”

“Soon.”

“Well, that’s real specific.” Even her sarcasm came across sweet.

“How ’bout I let you know.”

Her eyes widened with surprise at the sharpness of his retort. He hadn’t meant to sound so surly.

She didn’t miss a beat, though, and didn’t back down. “Yeah, you do that because I’d love to see how it’s done.”

Great.

But then, what did he expect? Blowing glass was a cool process. So why did the idea of Ginger watching him work make his skin itch?

She looked at him, curious. “How long have you been doing this?”

Zach scratched his temple. “Maybe ten years?”

“All while in the army?”

“Yeah.”

What started as an art class became a hobby, a creative release and then a place to forget. He’d had his studio plans drawn up well before he’d moved back home. Before he’d even found a building. Before he’d been RIFed. He’d always known how he wanted his shop laid out with an open space so his workshop was in full view of the buying public. He wanted to keep an eye on his store while working. Still, he hadn’t expected to become a shop owner this soon in life.

“But how? I mean when did you find the time?”

“I learned during downtime, when I was off duty.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look satisfied. She looked ready to ask more questions.

Zach didn’t want to answer questions. “I’ve got to cut this short.”

He’d promised his mom he’d make it for dinner. And he needed to move the last of his things into the apartment above.

“Oh. Sorry. Thanks for showing me around.” She smiled, hesitated to leave. “I still have to fill you in on the window display contest.”

“Sure. No problem. Another time?”

She nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Okay. See ya later.” He was halfway tempted to invite her along so she could tell him on the way, but that might send the wrong message. He watched her click her way across the wood floor and slip back through the slider into her tea shop. Ginger Carleton was pretty. A pretty, church-going woman.

But too young. Too young for him.

* * *

A few days later, Ginger peered into Zach’s studio. He’d been open less than a week, but shoppers swarmed. Curiosity drove a lot of traffic, but folks purchased product, too, and Zach had made sales. A lot of sales.

She spotted him surrounded by three women, and Captain Zach looked like a trapped wolf ready to snap or chew off his own paw any second now to escape.