Page 37 of Make Mine Sweet
“Maybe it’s the climber thing. You like a guy with a dangerous job.”
I stiffen, but my hands keep moving, taking the top off one of the dispensers.
“Sorry,” she says softly, her gloating smile gone. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” I take a fortifying breath. “It’s a good point. One more reason I can’t take this seriously.”
I need to be Ian’s friendly neighboronly—this interest in him isn’t remotely realistic. But Wren doesn’t see it the same way. She grabs my arm so I have to stop tinkering with the napkins and look at her.
“That’s not a reason to write off Ian,” she says gently. “Hedoesn’t deserve that kind of power in your life.”
Hebeing He-who-must-not-be-named—the charismatic ski instructor I fell for during my fateful six months living outside of Sunshine. Pro tip: when a guy says he’s not looking for anything serious, believe him. Me unexpectedly getting pregnant didn’t turn him into a romance book hero who was suddenly invested and ready to be a dad—it made him cut all contact and run.
I’ve never been blocked across all possible platforms so quickly in my life.
“I’m not giving him power. But when I learn a lesson about getting burned, I’m careful to stay away from fire.”
Wren flips my hand over, revealing the shimmering lines on the inside of my arm. “Says the woman covered in oven-burn scars.”
A brittle laugh rattles out of me as I pull my hand away. “That’s the only risk I’m willing to take.”
A few burns on my hands and arms are just part of my job. I can take that kind of pain. But putting my heart on the line? That’s never happening again.
TWELVE
IAN
The doorbell chimes,reminding me I never found thatKeep outsign I wanted. Maybe wrapping my door in bright yellowCautiontape would do the trick.
Wishful thinking. I’m pretty sure nothing would make a difference. It’s got to be my sole visitor at the door, and I doubt she’d ever be scared away by any sign.
Amy isn’t even giving me twenty-four hours before showing up again to try to drag me out of my hibernation cave. Probably with a new list of job opportunities and a selection of overeager guys for me to make friends with. Next, she’ll be setting up playdates for me at the park.
I didn’t have the heart to leave Nathan Bridger’s card at Delish last night to be dumped in the trash. I swiped it up just before I left. Not sure why, since a job as an EMT isn’t on my horizon, and I haven’t been fit for hanging out with a friend in ages. But the card sits on my entry table anyway.
A light knock sounds at the front door, nudging me. I sigh and abandon my earbuds and latest Brandon Sanderson novel I was listening to on the couch. Hauling myself up, I swipe a hand in the air, encouraging Dutch to give me space. He’s sitting in front of the door, tail wagging and tongue out, ready to greet Amy.
“I told you to leave my pie alone,” I grumble as I open the door. But instead of my meddling aunt, Tess stands in front of me.
The air heaves out of my lungs. After yesterday, I didn’t expect to see her again unless the situation was totally unavoidable. Showing up at my door—looking soft and delectable, no less—is completely avoidable.
Her mouth quirks. “I promise not to touch your pie.”
My brief laugh doesn’t make a sound. Words fail me, which is probably a good thing at the rate my brain is spinning. At least I manage to stop Dutch from jumping up on her and send him back into the living room.
Tess’s smile fades a touch, probably because I let my silence go on too long.
I’ve become good at that.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.” Our greetings sound more like questions. I get the feeling we’re both testing the waters here. I know what’s got me on edge, but I can’t quite compute what’s got her nervous.
Unless it’s me.
“Do you have a minute? I won’t take much of your time if you’re busy.”
“I’m not busy.” Understatement of the year. Then again, I’d probably drop most things if she asked.
