“Makes sense. I’m starved”—she’d worked through lunch—“but am a cheese-only kind of woman. We’re complete opposites.”
He laughed, almost as if that was what he’d been expecting her to say. He slid his hand into his front pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in a number. Had he already researched the number?
When he hung up, he met her gaze and grinned. “We can carry it to the park and have another picnic to keep from getting anything on the fabric. See how easy it was to find a solution?”
“By ordering half a pizza one way and half another?”
“By meeting me in the middle.”
“The only reason we’re meeting at all is because we have a business deal,” she reminded, giving him a pointed look. “Which did not include dinner.”
“Let’s get started before dinner arrives. Show me what I’m making.”
She handed him the kit instructions. “Sophie comes up with the design, picks the fabrics, cuts the pieces, and puts everything together. We sell them online and in the shop.”
“Her instructions are very thorough.” Looking impressed, he glanced over the sheet, then back up at her. “You wrote them, didn’t you?”
How had he known that often Sophie scribbled notes and Isabelle translated them into the simple, concise steps that included photos? “We help each other. It’s what families do.”
Zach’s gaze shifted from hers, and Isabelle found herself wondering about his family. He’d mentioned them a few times—his parents and a brother.
“Why aren’t you planning to go home for Thanksgiving this week?”
Tension stiffened his shoulders. “Because I’m here.”
“Here is a long way from there?”
“Long enough.”
Leave it alone, Isabelle. Zach’s family is none of your business.
“It might help to talk about it,” she suggested, anyway.
His gaze cut to hers. “It?”
“Whatever keeps you from wanting to go home for the holidays.”
His brow arched. “Trying to get rid of me, Blondie?”
“Just wondering why you’d choose to be in Pine Hill over being with your family.”
“Because my new girlfriend is here, of course.”
Part of her glad that his tension seemed to ease, she rolled her eyes. “It’s just you and me, so you can cut the act.”
“Is it really just us? I noticed the security cameras the first time I walked in here. How do you know Sophie isn’t logged in on her phone, watching and listening to everything we say?”
“It’s video only and she’s not.” Even as Isabelle said it, she wondered if Sophie was indeed logged into their system. Her sister had hung out with the Butterflies long enough that Sophie might do a few brief check-ins to see how things were progressing.
“No? You should smile and play nice, just in case.” He waggled his brows. “Come over here and give me a welcome kiss. It would be a shame to waste that lipstick.”
Shaking her head, she glared at him. “I really don’t like you.”
“That’s okay, Blondie. Most days, I don’t like me, either.”
She was used to his jesting, but his comment threw her. He almost sounded serious, but he couldn’t be. His self-assurance oozed from every handsome pore, and he was always teasing and smiling. She’d just mistaken his tone for something more than it was.
“Sit down,” she ordered, not liking the unsettled feeling that if he had been serious, then… then, nothing. Zach Dawson was none of her business other than business.
