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I exhaled a short laugh, tugging a stray hair out of the way when a gust of wind kicked it across my face. “So far, yeah. You?”
His grin was wide and infectious. “Getting better now.” I groaned a little, and he laughed, holding up his hands. “Sorry. That was lame.”
It was, but ugh, it was also just the tiniest bit flattering. I couldn’t remember the last time someone flirted with me—albeit badly. So I found myself smiling, eyeing the expression on his face.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked.
Scott cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet with me so I can pick your brain on something.”
Slowly, my eyebrows rose on my forehead. “What about?”
“About flag football,” he answered. When my eyes narrowed slightly, he let out a quiet laugh. “The league Sage played for in New York. I’m not against putting together a girls’ team if there’s enough interest, but I’d love to know more about it if you’ve got the time.”
“Oh.” I rocked back on my heels and peered over my shoulder at the car. “I guess. I’m not sure how much help I can be, though.”
“A lot, I’m sure.” He tugged on the back of his hat, a decidedly nervous gesture. “Maybe we could grab a bite to eat next weekend, and I could ask you some questions about it.”
I opened my mouth, not even sure exactly what I was going to say, and Sage yelled my name from the car.
“Mom, your phone is ringing! Should I answer it?”
“No,” I yelled back on a laugh. “Just let it go to voicemail.” I turned back to Coach Scott. “Lord,” I said under my breath. “It never ends, does it?”
He waved it off. “No worries. Just, uh, think it over, okay? You don’t have to let me know right now.”
I managed a small smile, trying to pinpoint exactly what the fuck was going on with the men in my orbit right now. Maybe a planet was in retrograde, causing emotional upheaval and weird non-date date requests. Whatever it was had me feeling the slightest bit unsteady as I walked back to the car. I set a trembling hand on my fluttering belly and wished desperately for a sense of normalcy. A settling.
Some peace.
Nothing felt peaceful right now, like all the relationship stakes in my life kept getting cranked on high volume. And as I drove us home, I knew where I’d go to try to find that peace.
Chapter 21
Ian
I didn’t notice her coming into the shop at first because the piece of wood on the table in front of me was taking all my attention. I’d finally worked the lamp base into the shape I wanted on the lathe and smoothed it out to finish it.
When I was almost done, there was movement by the door—a flash of dark hair and a familiar NYU sweatshirt—and I kept my attention down because the last thing I needed was to screw it up right at the end.
But the draw was too much. She’d only come to the shop twice when I was working, so she probably needed something or had something weighing on her.
Briefly, I glanced up to weigh the look on her face, but she was watching my hands. Her brows were bent in concentration, her eyes bright with interest, and when she caught me staring, I gestured her to come closer with a tilt of my head.
Harlow tucked her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt as she rounded the main work table. The loud whirring of the tools ebbed away when I flipped the off switch, and she smiled as I pulled the piece off the machine.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Mango wood. I like the natural coloring for things like this.” Slowly, I turned the piece in my hand, studying all the striations of the surface. “Eventually, it’ll be a lamp.” I tapped my finger along the top. “Just need to cut through here to the bottom, work the wiring through, add a linen shade. One of the few ideas I had for the store that Ivy hadn’t thought of herself.” I studied her face again. “Practice run long tonight?”
“No,” she said carefully. “Coach Scott wanted to talk to me about something. He’s a nice guy.”
“Seems like it.” Oh look. My voice sounded normal, good for me.
Harlow kept her focus on the lathe. “He asked me out to dinner to talk about girls’ flag football. I just have to decide whether that’s a good idea to go or not.”
Some invisible being dropped a million bricks on my chest, a hard, unyielding pressure that I struggled to breathe through, and the slick, oily feeling of jealousy clawed up my throat.
“Dinner, huh?”
