Mac cursed his kindness when he hung up the phone. His relief wasn’t coming. Nate should have been there already, but he was sick. Which meant Mac had to stay on for a little longer until someone else came in.

Mornings were usually pretty quiet, but Mac still hated working the retail store. He preferred his night shift stocking shelves, even when the shelves made him want to vomit. When he unlocked the front door of the store, he saw a woman rushing toward him in heels and a long coat, carrying a baby carrier over his forearm.

Nothing like an over-anxious mom needing to make her child’s life perfect to ruin his morning.

“Do you have St. Patrick’s Day decorations out yet?” she asked. She barely even looked at Mac, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the mood for being social, even though her voice made his heart rate kick up and her eyes looked like they held the secrets of the universe.

“Last aisle on the wall,” Mac said absently, wondering how long he would have to be there.

She rushed off, leaving Mac by the register. When she didn’t come back right away he started to wonder just how green she wanted her house to be. Mac was considering going to check on her when she rushed back around the corner with her arms loaded with enough green to make a leprechaun queasy.

“Phew,” she breathed as she dumped her collection on the counter. A few things spilled off the edge and she reached down to grab them while Mac scanned the items and loaded them into a bag. “I’m glad you guys were open. It would not have gone over well if I didn’t get these.”

Mac nodded, wondering why she needed so many decorations. He didn’t have to wonder long.

“My mom runs a day care and she asked me to pick up some decorations on the way into work. I’m too old to take orders from my mom, but I’m smarter than to piss her off without a good reason.”

Mac smiled at her attempt to engage him in conversation. He was running on fumes and barely able to stay standing. Managing his side of a conversation was beyond his abilities at that point. He focused on ringing up her purchases, feeling slightly guilty for assuming she was an overbearing mother. When he finished he told her the total and accepted her payment. She smiled when she slung the bags over one arm, the baby carrier over the other.

“Have a good day,” she sang as she walked out the door. Mac just kicked himself for not being more friendly. Or getting her number.