The Bachelor's Brighton Valley Bride

“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a rather crotchety fellow who’d bought the refurbished machine from Ralph back when Clay used to work here, set the outdated laptop on the counter.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 doubt Zoe calling him back as requested—so he pulled it from his pocket to take the call.

“Are you sure about that discount and offer?” Megan whispered to him before he could answer the phone. “You must be mistaken. A hundred dollars is a ninety-percent savings off the retail price.”

He lifted his ringing cell. “Do you want to ask the Houston office about that promotional sale?”

She studied him, those pretty brown eyes darting back and forth as if trying to assess his honesty.

Clay tossed her a crooked grin, then answered the call. “Peyton Johnson.”

“Hey, boss. This is your wake-up call—or rather, your apartment’s-in-the-bag call.”

“Nice. Thanks, Zoe. And while I have you on the phone, can you please talk to Megan, who works here at the Brighton Valley store? I told her all about that hundred-dollar special that the marketing department is running on the Geekon Blast laptop. And she didn’t believe me.” He handed his phone to Megan, confident Zoe would assure her that she could believe anything Clay—or rather, “Peyton”—had told her, even though Zoe had no knowledge of the phony sale he’d just concocted for Riley’s benefit.

As Megan reached for Clay’s cell, her fingers brushed his, sparking a warm, feathery rush of heat up his arm. For a moment, their gazes met, and he realized she’d felt something, too.

Then she averted her gaze and spoke into the phone. “Hello?” She listened for a moment or two, then said, “Okay. It’s just that it sounded way too good to be true, if you know what I mean. Goodness, if those things only cost a hundred dollars, I’d like one, too.”

Again she listened to whatever Zoe was telling her. Then she nodded and handed the phone back to Clay. After thanking Zoe, he ended the call.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“I guess so. She said you were in that last marketing meeting, and that you’re never wrong when it comes to sales and special prices. So she said I could rest assured that the offer was spot-on.”

Clay tossed her a grin.

Megan added, “She also said that she’d like one of the Geekon Blast models, too. Her nephew is having a birthday next week and would love a laptop. She’s thrilled to know that she can afford to buy him one—thanks to that special price.”

“Smart gal, that Zoe. She’s always been one to jump on a good deal.” Clay would have to tell his executive assistant not to spread the word about the sale. And that it was a onetime deal that would last only until the end of the day.

“So what do you say?” Clay asked, turning back to Riley. “Will you leave your old laptop with me and take this new baby for a test run?”

“You got a deal,” Riley said. Then he took the box off the counter, tucked it under his arm and headed out the door.

“I guess a new laptop worked even better at sweetening his mood than my cookies did,” Megan said.

“How many customer complaints do you get these days?” Clay asked.

She bit down on her bottom lip. “A few, I guess. Mostly because Don has gotten a little backlogged.”

Clay suspected that was an understatement. But he’d find out the truth soon enough.

“Come on,” she said, “I’ll finish giving you that tour of the shop.”

She led him back to the work area, which was three times the size of the front part of the store. Yet it seemed a lot smaller than Clay remembered. Maybe that was because it wasn’t just the shelves that were stacked with various new and used computers and laptops. The floors were so cluttered with machines that they’d had to make walkways to get around them.

“This is where Don works,” Megan said, indicating the old desk Ralph Weston used to keep as clean as a whistle. Only now the stacks of paper and other stuff made it impossible to see the once-glossy wood grain Ralph used to polish every Saturday afternoon.