Page 24 of Small Town Sash

He nodded, his brown eyes understanding. "I get that, Hadley, but I just want you to do what makes you happy for once. You focus so much on everyone else; you don't do anything for you."

"Believe me, I'm trying," she assured him. "It's just not something that cannot happen overnight."

Suddenly, Dash jumped from the back of the truck, barking happily at her.

"Dash," Braden scolded, but the dog ignored him and licked Hadley's hand.

She laughed despite herself, ruffling Dash's fur. "Hey, boy. It's good to see you, too."

Braden looked at them both and shook his head, smiling. "Hopeless. Both of you."

Dash wagged his tail in agreement, and Braden rolled his eyes before leaning back against his truck.

"Just let me know if you change your mind about dinner," he said as Hadley turned to go back inside the shop. "It's a standing invitation."

Pushing open the door, she glanced back once more at Braden and Dash playing by his truck. The sight warmed her heart a little, and she found herself hoping that she could changeher mind about dinner sometime in the future. She gave a short wave before turning her attention back to dressmaking.

Back in the shop, Candace raised an eyebrow at her, smirking knowingly. "Dinner with Braden? That sounds like a date."

Hadley sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's not a date, Candace. Just...dinner, and it's not even happening anyway."

"Uh-huh, sure," Candace replied, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think that's precisely why it's not happening. I think you're afraid to give into it and see where things can go with Braden."

Hadley ignored her friend's observation and turned back to the dresses, not wanting to admit that she was right.

Hadley's phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her conversation with Candace. She pulled it out and saw a message from her mother.

"Where are you? You've been gone for hours," the text read.

"I'm out running errands. Be home soon," Hadley quickly replied, not wanting to delve into details and create an argument with her mother.

"What's going on?" Candace asked, noticing her tense expression as she put her phone away.

"It's my mom. She just wants to know where I am," Hadley answered with a sigh.

"Maybe you should tell her about our meetings," Candace suggested, concern evident in her voice.

"I will, eventually," Hadley said, although she knew she had been putting it off because she knew her mother wouldn't understand and would want her to quit.

Candace gave her a sympathetic look before they both went back to work on the dresses. But Hadley's mind was elsewhere, worrying about what her mother would say when she found out about their secret meetings.

As soon as she finished up at the shop, Hadley rushed home to face the inevitable confrontation with her mother. She walked into their house and found Mrs. Thompson, her mother's best friend, waiting for her in the living room, arms crossed over her chest and a stern expression on her face, standing right next to her mother with the same look on her face.

"Hadley, where have you been?" her mother demanded with a huff.

"As I told you, I was running some errands around town," Hadley answered, trying to keep calm despite feeling like a child being scolded by their parent.

"For hours?" Mrs. Thompson raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I wasn't aware I needed to report in," Hadley stated defensively.

"You can quit lying to me, Hadley. One of her mutual friends saw you at the dress shop." Hadley's mother arched an eyebrow, her tone laced with a cocktail of disapproval and frustration. "Between your volunteer time at the church and pageant practice, don't you think that's already overdoing it? You should avoid adding one more thing to your list, especially something so trivial as a glorified hobby."

Hadley stood firm, her curvy frame refusing to wilt under the weight of her mother's scrutiny. "It's not just about the dresses," she insisted. "I'm learning, Mom. Designing could be...more than a hobby."

"More than a hobby..." Her mother echoed the words as if tasting something sour. "And less time on pageant prep, I suppose?"

"Maybe," Hadley said, a bold streak of defiance coloring her voice for the first time in her life. Before her mother could launch into another lecture, the doorbell chimed, signaling an escape.

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