Confessions from the Quilting Circle by Maisey Yates (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

didn’t talk to you about me. The same as my mom didn’t talk to me about you for a really long time.”

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “you were the worst part about leaving.”

That was the truth whether she should have said it or not.

She’d done her best to be cruel when she’d separated from him and she certainly hadn’t said that then.

But she’d wanted to blow it all into so many pieces they’d never be tempted to even try to put them back together. She had made too many decisions that she couldn’t take back, and she had to move forward.

He cleared his throat. “Well, that got a little bit more personal than I meant it to. If you don’t want to hire me, Hannah, that’s fine.”

“Do you not want to work for me?”

“Really, I promise you, I’m fine. It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah. But apparently I’m still the person that you argue with in the shower.” Discomfort tightened inside of her, along with an arrow of sensation that seemed to strike right between her legs. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure. But if it helps, there are a couple people I argue with in the shower. You’re on the list, but not as high as you used to be.”

She laughed. “Yeah. I almost never argue with you anymore.”

“Why did you ever argue with me?”

She tried to force a smile. “I guess it’s not really an argument. Sometimes I would just try to make you understand. That I was right. I guess you kind of know that.”

He looked her over. “I do.” He looked down, seemingly taking stock of his white T-shirt with dirt marks over it, his jeans with paint splatters. “Yeah, I do.”

Then he turned away from her. “Tell me about this place, and your plans.”

“We want to do a vacation rental.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Vacation rentals do pretty brisk business here. Especially during the summer months during the concert season.” There was a mildly famous summer festival in Bear Creek where niche bands and bands who had once been popular played, and it brought a fairly decent crowd of people in.

“I bet. And with all the wineries in the area I’m sure it goes on even longer.”

“You’d be correct. Tourism has really revived itself since you left.”

“Yeah. I remember when half the buildings on Main were empty. Not anymore.” He stopped in front of a crack in the drywall. “Yeah. That will need to be fixed,” she said, feeling a little bit lame, because that was obvious.

But he didn’t make her feel stupid. He went into some kind of professional mode, talking only about the repairs that were needed for the house and marking things down on a paper that he had on his clipboard.

“My sister is opening a Craft Café,” she said. He didn’t ask. But she was going to tell him. Because her skin felt too tight, and saying something seemed as good of a way as any to make it feel a little bit less so.

She didn’t like this. This weird emotional reaction he was creating in her. She didn’t do emotion unless she chose to, and she was not choosing it now.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It’s a café. Where people also make crafts?”

“I’m going to put that on the list of things I don’t understand. Right next to avocado toast.”

She laughed and tilted her head, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Are you flirting with him?

She was not flirting with him. She didn’t do coy flirty stuff. If she wanted a guy she was honest about it. She had so many friends who saw dating as this big, high stakes thing. Because every guy was a potential life partner. But not for her. It made everything a lot more straightforward.

And made it so she didn’t...play with her hair and get shy because it didn’t matter if a guy wasn’t into her. If not, she’d find someone else or they’d find her.

Yet, here she was.

Hotter to her now than he’d ever been and that was... unexpected. Not welcome.

“Right,” Hannah said. “Well. She’s very confident in it.”

“If I remember Lark correctly, she was always...outspoken. Confident.”

“Yeah.”

“Different than you.”

“I’m confident.” The plainspoken observation made her feel undressed. It was one thing to have to deal with a former lover and to cope with the fact they’d seen you naked—but he’d seen a pretty great version of her, so it wasn’t embarrassing. It was the emotional intimacy they’d once shared that made her feel laid bare. “I’ve always performed in front of people. What would make you think I’m not confident?”

He lifted one broad shoulder and she tried to see what he did in that moment. Because she couldn’t imagine very many other people looking at her—with her bright red hair and matching lipstick, black tank top and tight black jeans—and think she was...somehow lacking in confidence.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shrug at me. You think I’m not confident?” He was wrong. She’d been too confident if anything. So convinced she was special.

She still was. You couldn’t get by in a career like hers without believing in hard work and magic. She knew too many people who worked hard and couldn’t get to where she was.

“I think you weren’t when you were seventeen. I don’t have anything to say about who you are now. I don’t know you.”

His words felt sharp like a knife. Like they’d gone right between her ribs and twisted.

Because at seventeen she’d been no less in your face than she was now. She felt seen somehow and she didn’t like it at all.

He hadn’t said if he was single or married or with someone. If he had kids.

And she wouldn’t ask.

They finished the walk through the house, and he handed her the paper from the top of his clipboard. “That’s my very fast estimate.”

“That was a fast estimate,” she said, looking down at the figure. It was a lot, but not too much. And Gram had left money. “You’re hired,” she said, decisively.

“Just