Page 46 of Spellbound & Speechless
“Does itlooklike I’m struggling?” I snap.
His lips twitch. “Just a little.”
“Fine.” I flip the book shut, hiding the design. It’s not ready for someone else’s eyes, especially nothis. “Maybe I am.”
Mac has been confusing me since we met. Is he nice? Is he mean? Are we friends? Or are we… not? Is there any chance we can be something more? Probably not, but after he spent a night holding me in his warm, muscular arms—good luck telling my body that!
Seeing him now sends my pulse racing, blood rushing to my cheeks, my pupils dilating in the dim-lit bar. It’s so typical. I’m not a fool—I’m a love witch. I know what intense attraction feels like. This is it, even if I don’t want it to be.
Oh, why can’t I wantanyoneelse? I may know everyonein town, but that means I know there are plenty of attractive people! There’s our neighbor, Seth, though he’s always been friendlier with Laurel and Rowan.
But Seth… he has a cousin! She’s hot. Why can’t it be her, or anyone else, who makes my heart race?
Of course, it has to be Mac. I hate him. I need him. This is bad. So, so bad.
“You seem like you don’t want to be here tonight,” Mac says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Hm?”
“At the bar.” He gestures. “Your head isn’t in the game.”
“Oh…” I look around. “Well. When is it ever?”
“C’mon. You’re not usuallythisbad. Is the sketch that distracting?”
He really doesn’t get it, does he? The sketch isn’t distracting me… he is. How am I supposed to work under these conditions?
“No. It’s just… quiet tonight.” I lift a shoulder. “Besides, I made good tips on Saturday. I’m not worried about money right now.”
He clicks his tongue. “That shows a terrible work ethic. I’m telling the boss.”
“Hey!” I frown. “I have afantasticwork ethic. You don’t know how hard Iusuallywork. Just not here.”
“Why not? It’s your sister’s place. You’d think you would have more passion for it.”
“Why should I? It’s her passion, not mine. I don’t evenwantto work here.”
“Then why are you here?”
He poses the question as if it’s simple, but I don’t have an answer. Blank. My thoughts are blank.
“Well… Juniper won’t let me leave, and I don’t know what else to do with my life!” There’s no reason to talk to Mac about this, but I fight back an urge to tell him everything. “I was living in New York before this, you know.”
He nods, clearly waiting for me to say more.
“I had a real job there.” I tilt my head to the side. “Okay, ‘real job’ isn’t the right way to put it. That was an internship, andthisis a real job—but you know what I mean. I was doing something I loved. I had purpose and passion.”
“An art job?”
“No. Well… sort of.” I shake my head. “Fashion. I was on my way to becoming a designer.”
“I see. And you can’t, uh… do fashion here?”
Mac probably knows as much about fashion as I know about astrology—one glance at his dirty work boots tells me that—but he’s humoring me. It’s almost sweet.
“HowcanI?” I move down the bar and pour two shots of liquor. “Like, I know I don’t have to take the straight path I was on before, and maybe that wasn’t therightpath for me, but...”
“But you don’t know which path to take?”
