Oh. Oh. Was that why he was blushing? Not because he’d made the zany decision to hide in a wardrobe, but because he’d overheard her complete humiliation?

Something clicked inside her then. Some sort of emotional survival instinct that demanded she lift her chin and straighten her shoulders. But that was hard to do with one shoe on and one shoe off. So she shook off the left heel and squared her posture, tipping her head to look the stranger from the closet right in his ridiculously appealing gray eyes. “What can I help you with today?”

He blinked, cleared his throat for the third time. “Um . . . I-I don’t . . . what?”

If there was one bright spot in this awful, horrid day, it was the amusement that managed to wiggle in at his obvious discomfort. “You must’ve come in here for something. Are you looking for a particular piece? Or just browsing?” Maybe he was on the hunt for a gift for someone—a girlfriend or wife, mom or sister. She didn’t get many male customers.

She didn’t get many customers at all. Not here at her Augusta store. At least her original shop back in Muir Harbor was thriving. But replicating that same success here was a hurdle she couldn’t seem to clear. She’d been so sure opening a second store was the right move. But if things didn’t pick up soon, her broken engagement wouldn’t be the only thing she’d have to confess to her family.

A sale. She needed to make a sale today. Just one measly sale and maybe then she could convince herself everything was going to be okay. “I’m running a special this week,” she blurted, pushing a curl behind her ear. “Thirty-five percent off all furniture.”

One corner of the man’s mouth rose at the same time as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. “You really want to get rid of this wardrobe, don’t you?”

A whole sentence without stammering, and darn it, she was right about the dimples. “Got a truck? I can help you load it right now. I’m stronger than I look.”

Those gray eyes peered at her for a moment. “I don’t doubt it, Indi Muir.”

It was the second time he’d said her full name and for the second time, she wondered how in the world he knew it. And seriously, what was he doing here? Who was he? What sort of person eavesdropped on a breakup and hid in a closet and then just . . . stayed? She opened her mouth, ready to bullet one question after another at him, even if it did cost her a sale.

But the blare of her phone stole her opportunity. Ben? She whipped it from the pocket of her jeans, gaze immediately connecting with the screen.