Page 5 of All She Wants

“Not-gifts,” Claire repeated.

“Things women buy while telling themselves it’s for someone else.” Erin’s mouth curved. “Happens a lot around the holidays.”

Claire looked down at the candle. Then she looked back at Erin, whose brown eyes held a warmth that contained absolutely no judgment and, Claire suspected, a great deal of perception.

She could keep browsing. She could buy the candle, thank the woman, and leave. She could spend another twenty minutes examining products she didn’t want while avoiding the ones she did, and Erin would probably let her do it without a word of pressure. Claire returned the candle to the shelf and turned toward Erin. “I don’t think I came here for a candle.”

Erin tucked the velvet fabric under her arm, gave a small nod, and said, “Okay. Would you like some help figuring out what you did come here for?”

The question was so direct, so matter-of-fact, and so entirely free of innuendo that Claire felt something in her chest unlock. Claire let out a breath and loosened her grip on her handbag. She could tell Erin what she wanted, assuming she managed to say the words coherently. “Yes,” Claire said. “I think I would.”

A gust struck the front windows hard enough to rattle the glass. Snow swept across them in a solid white sheet, erasing the parking lot for several seconds.

Claire looked toward her coat. “Wow! It’s getting worse.”

“It is.” Erin crossed to the window and peered outside. The tire tracks Claire had left when she arrived had nearly disappeared. “How far is your drive?”

“About twenty minutes. I rented a house off County Road M.”

Erin turned. “You’re not driving back there right now. That road drifts over quickly.”

A knot tightened beneath Claire’s ribs. “I barely made it here. I thought the snow might ease up.”

“Mountain storms rarely respect anyone’s itinerary.” Erin pulled out her phone and checked the weather alert. “Travel isn’t advised. Visibility is near zero, and the county plows are prioritizing the highway.”

“What about you?”

“I live ten miles from here.” Erin glanced at the deserted road, then at Claire. “We have heat, coffee, and time to wait it out. Come on. Let’s find what you came for.”

“And if it doesn’t improve?”

Erin glanced around the boutique. “Then we spend Christmas Eve surrounded by enough battery power to guide Santa in for a landing.”

A laugh escaped Claire before she could stop it.

Erin gestured toward a pair of velvet chairs near the consultation area, and Claire followed, settling into the nearest one.

“I’m Erin, by the way. We somehow skipped introductions.”

“I know. I found your website last night.” Claire had studied Erin’s photograph and bio more closely than she cared to admit. “I’m Claire.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Claire.”

“You too.”

“I’m looking for something... functional,” Claire stammered. She crossed one leg over the other. “A little discreet. Well, you know, not overly large.”

“Compact and functional is a great start.” Erin sat across from her, relaxed, one ankle tucked beneath her. “Can I ask a few questions? It helps me narrow things down so you’re not standing in front of forty options trying to read the labels on boxes.”

Claire nodded. She could handle questions. Questions were her native language.

“Is this for solo use, or are you planning to incorporate it with a partner?”

The directness shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d watched Erin’s workshop clips on the website. She knew the woman discussed clitoral anatomy the way other people discussed weather. And still, the question landed somewhere between her sternum and her pride.

She cleared her throat as if that would soften her answer. “Solo,” Claire said. Then, because the word sounded lonely even to her, she added, “For now.”

Erin didn’t blink, nor did she smile. She didn’t do any of the things Claire had braced for. She simply moved forward.