Page 8 of Fast Currents
“My aunt Patricia owned the studio here and offered me a residency to learn from her and eventually take over.”
A real answer.
“So you weren’t a blown glass artist before?”
Lucy chuckled. “Not exactly. I’d done a residency with the Pilchuck Glass School.”
“I have no idea what that is, but it sounds fancy.”
“Sure. About as fancy as knowing the Latin names for the foxes.”
I clucked my tongue. “I don’t know how you do it. I’m too klutzy to work around liquified glass.”
She laughed softly like she didn’t believe a word. “Clay. You work around cliffs and wildlife and other assorted dangers. You’d do fine. Just like the parks, I have safety protocols.”
Whether she’d meant to or not, she’d presented me with an opening. “Will you teach me sometime?”
She twirled one of her dark pigtails, arching her left brow. Her mouth quirked to one side as something playful danced in her dark eyes. “You sure you trust me around glass that’s more than 2,000 degrees?”
“Any time.”
My words were simple, but heartfelt. Probably more honest than she’d believe.
“I didn’t have you pegged as a risk-taker, Robertson.”
Slowly, I let a grin stretch my cheeks. “Ilikemaking deals with the Devil.”
“Be careful, you might not like what I ask in return.” Her eyes flashed. “But you’re on.”
Chapter 5 – Lucy
Clay insisted on walking me to my car. Hardly necessary in sleepy Friday Harbor, but after a suspicious death in the spring and a few petty crimes over the summer, I didn’t argue.
Dinner was… surprisingly nice. I’d expected flirty nonsense. Maybe a few jokes, another fake proposal. Instead, he gave me honesty—about his past, his wife, things I hadn’t earned yet. And he didn’t say them for pity or attention. He offered the pieces of his past like he wanted me to really know him.
His shoulders were relaxed but his gaze vigilant as we strolled, like he couldn’t turn off protector mode. Our arms brushed, the hair on my arms prickling. Unable to turn off the awareness of him.
He was quiet as he walked beside me. Close, but not crowding.
Normally, I would have walked to the brewery from the studio, but there was no reason to leave my car overnight.
Clay opened my door for me, resting one elbow on the hood. Waiting for… what? A thank you? Good night?
“I had a nice time tonight.” His deep voice, soft as the evening air, sent tiny prickles zipping up my arms.
I put a hand to his chest. Mistake. The firm muscle under my palm made me want to stroke, not push away. “Not a date, Robertson.”
He pouted, the downturn of his lips ruined by a smile just as swift. “You sure about that, Lucifer? I think there’s something between us.”
Practicing honesty was overrated. I barely wanted to admit the attraction to myself, let alone to him.
“It’s just a little animal attraction, Robertson. Nothing we can’t handle.”
His eyes flashed, a grin broadening his features. “Yes. Let’shandleit.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you like it.”
