Page 11 of Stirring Up Love
She’d drawn first blood with the knitting maneuver, but the new guy had hit back by refusing to let the Yarn Spinners’ voracious membership drive deter his customers. He’d risen to the challenge and walked the aisle with samples to draw people in—a move that should’ve bothered other sellers, except he was so freaking gregarious that no one seemed to mind his foray into neutral territory—and hawked his second-rate sauce until closing time.
Word was he’d sold all his stock on the first day, with more than a few bottles going to other vendors.Sellouts.
They all agreed Finn—impossible not to remember the name on everyone’s lips after their public showdown brought on by her ill-fatedploy to scare him off—had earned the right to stay. The consensus was that it would be rude to subvert Tim’s wishes. Rude? Defiantly refusing to stay out of her market was the rude move. And breaking the unwritten code for a stranger, of all people? Doubly rude.
But whatever—she’d adjust. Today’s setback had made it clear she needed to focus on the bigger picture and find a way to fast-track her plans to expand the scope of Honey and Hickory.
Leaning forward, Simone swung her leg off the mare and dismounted. She’d planned to ride for an hour, but the whole town had already witnessed her flounder; she couldn’t handle any more scrutiny. Meg had known her since they were kids. She’d see right through her if she tried to play it off. Better to leave before she got suckered into a heart-to-heart.
Willow bumped her chest with her black muzzle. “You got off easy this time, girlie. But we’ll get you back in shape soon enough.”
Before moving away, she’d sold the mare to her riding instructor, who she knew would treat Willow like family. But the first thing she’d done after coming home was buy her back, all cash, so she’d never have to worry about being parted from her horse again. It took a hefty chunk out of her savings and meant renting a studio apartment above the restaurant with finicky plumbing, heated by a radiator, but she didn’t regret it for a second.
Still, between the substantial cost of upkeep on a horse and student loans, things were tight. Profits from the market were meant to go straight into her expansion fund. Yet after all her hard work on the sauce venture, she’d gotten outsold by a smooth-talking newcomer.
Simone let her head fall back, gazing up into a wide dome of sky unmarred by power lines and looming skyscrapers. The open expanse usually invigorated her, but today the endless sea of blue left her feeling insignificant.
Sensing her stress, or maybe on the hunt for treats, Willow nudged her hand, her whiskers a ticklish brush against Simone’s palm.
“Hey, Sim.” Her head snapped up, for a moment thinking the words had come out of the horse’s mouth. But a leggy figure walked toward the paddock. Meg, no doubt dying to hash out what had gone down today at the market. Simone wasn’t in the mood to discuss today’s shit show, not even with a surrogate sister.
No one needed to know how much today’s defeat had affected her. Most people would’ve called solid sales a success; most people weren’t perfectionists who’d been shoved off course last year and had been scrambling to pull themselves together ever since. Didn’t help that she’d had a front-row seat watching Finn rack up sales. And her traitorous body hadn’t gotten the memo that this guy was bad news.
Metal scraped against metal as Meg unclipped the fence chain. The clatter banished the image of Finn glaring at her from under the dark bangs that fell into his eyes, the errant strands of hair not doing a thing to lessen the heat of his gaze.
Maybe Meg’s arrival wasn’t the worst timing. For once, she could use a distraction. The same went for Willow, apparently, who set off toward the open gate at a trot.
Forget what she said about animals. The blatant disloyalty, jeez.
Stopping short, the mare nosed around Meg’s pockets. She laughed and fished out a peppermint.
Arms crossed, Simone clucked her tongue. “I see you’ve been spoiling her. Guess I’ll allow it, since you give our girl top-notch accommodations.”
When she’d come home last fall, she’d moved Willow out to Meg’s acreage. Her property was close enough to town that she was able to come out and visit the mare at least once a day, and she helped Meg out with chores around the farm in lieu of boarding fees.
“You know I love having her here. You’re basically family, Simi.”
True. But for some reason, the childhood nickname grated on her thin patience like a file on a hangnail. Part of her wondered if Meg onlyhung around to fill the gap her big sister had left. Only spent time with her out of obligation, for old times’ sake.
Not like she should complain when the rest of the town seemed to have amnesia about old times. What she thought would be a joyous homecoming had turned out to be a town full of people who’d moved on without her. All except Meg, who just so happened to be her sister’s best friend. Coincidence? Maybe, but her time in the city had left her second-guessing motives.
“Quite a day, huh?” Meg’s question interrupted her thoughts. “I cannot believe you targeted the full force of the Spinners at that poor guy. The look on his face ...”
Simone’s mouth twitched in a smile. From the cover of her booth, she’d watched Finn’s wide-eyed reaction when the knitting group had swarmed him. Part horror, part fascination. Fully adorable. Hisexpression, that is. Not him. Never him.
Meg chuckled, and she couldn’t help but join in. “Should I feel bad?”
“Do you?”
Did she? Her knee-jerk reaction could’ve cost him sales. But she’d been under so much pressure since last year—moving home, trying to prove herself worthy of her family’s faith in her to run Honey and Hickory—that his arrival had been one complication too many.
Not used to this nagging feeling of being overwhelmed, she’d acted on impulse. If she was honest, rounding up the Yarn Spinners had been less motivated by a desire to see herself succeed than to push away the feelings he’d sparked in her.
Feelings of inadequacy, and nothing else. Not a kick of attraction in her chest so strong it took her breath away. Not guilt over the hurt in his eyes when he’d confronted her, like she’d betrayed him. Not the inexplicable urge to go out and call a truce at midday in hopes he’d turn his bright smile her way.
“I just needed a win.” Her tone sounded close to whiny, and she hated that. She could forgive herself for a moment of pettiness. But self-pity? No way.
Meg’s sympathetic nod confirmed her fears. Here came the pity pick-me-up. In three, two—“I get that. But you’ve got a good thing going. The market is just icing on the cake, right?”
