Page 51 of Lessons in Heartbreak

Griffin and I locked eyes but kept our hands down. He winked, and my stomach swooped dangerously.

“You’re going down, birdy,” he said as couples to our right and left showed their artwork to each other, dissolving into hysterics at what the other person had painted.

Suddenly, I felt a bright burst of shyness. “What if we ... don’t show it now?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want everyone to see,” I told him. “Maybe we could wait until they’re gone or ... do it out in the parking lot or something.”

Griffin nodded, eyes serious. “I see. You’re embarrassed because I’m about to kick your ass in a painting competition.”

“Yup, that’s it,” I replied lightly, then set my canvas to the side, making sure he wasn’t looking at it. Griffin held my gaze and did the same with his.

Without being asked, Griffin helped Kenny, Melanie, and me clean up as people filtered out of the library. Almost all of them asked for a repeat of the event, and I promised we’d do our best.

“Come back for the fair this weekend,” I told the sweet elderly couple who had just finished cleaning up their mess. “We’re holding it in the high school parking lot; it should be a ton of fun.”

The couple smiled. “We will. Our grandkids have been talking about it all month.”

Griffin was carrying a stack of chairs under his arm, twice the amount Kenny was struggling with. “You’re doing a fair?”

I nodded, tossing the palettes and disposable tablecloths into a large trash bag. “Fundraiser for the library.”

“Maybe I should come,” he said. “You could practice fluttering your eyelashes and being very impressed while I lose all my money on the games trying to get you a stuffed animal bigger than your dog. Men love that shit.”

“Fluttering eyelashes and fake enthusiasm? If that’s what you’re teaching me, I’m screwed.”

“You have no idea, birdy.” He flashed me a quick grin. “Still sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” My cheeks were warm, imagining him there in the swarms of people. “Besides, I know you’re trying to keep a low profile.”

“It’s a huge deal,” Kenny interjected, walking past us to deposit his chairs against the wall. “She spearheaded the Welling Springs 5K last year, and the town T-shirt sale, and the spaghetti dinner, but we needed one more fundraiser.” Kenny ignored my pointed glare and kept talking. “There’s a reason she never goes out, and it’s because she’s been working sixty hours a week for the last two years to get enough money to buy the land next to the library.”

I pinched my eyes shut, and when I peeled them open, I settled another lethal look in Kenny’s direction. He merely smiled.

Griffin’s brows shot up. “The land with the creek and the willow tree?”

I nodded slowly. “It’s going up for sale soon, and ... I thought maybe we could purchase it before that would happen, but the familywho owns it wants to see how much they can get for it.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t blame them, I guess.”

Melanie interrupted to ask me a question, and I was relieved. Griffin quietly went about his work, helping Kenny take down the tables and stack the remainder of the chairs. Every once in a while, my eyes would snag on the way his arms bulged when he lifted something.

I cleared my throat and moved my canvas into my office, leaning it up against the side of my desk. When I exited, Melanie was standing by Griffin. “I’m so sorry to do this, but would you mind if I grab a selfie? My son is a huge fan,” she said with an apologetic smile. “He’d never forgive me if I didn’t ask.”

“No problem.” He leaned in toward her, setting his hand on her shoulder while she snapped a picture. “Maybe just ... don’t post it on social media, at least not for a couple of days, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course,” she said. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks slightly flushed, a far cry from the composed woman who’d run the evening without a single hint that she knew who he was.

Griffin lifted his chin in my direction. “You have any paper?”

I nodded, darting back into my office to grab a pen and an index card. Griffin took it, leaning over the counter. “What’s your son’s name?”

“Bryan,” she said. “Thank you so much. I can’t even tell you what this will mean to him.”

Griffin scrawled out a quick note, then signed his name—a big, bold signature—and handed it to Melanie with a smile. “Tell him his mom is really cool.”

“I will,” she breathed. “Thank you again. This was amazing.” Melanie gave me a brief hug. “You call me anytime if you need help with something like this.”

“Thank you,” I told her. “We will.”

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