“Working.”
“Hiding.”
“Working.”
“You’re finding an awful lot of work to keep busy these days. I guess you still haven’t figured out the answer to your problem?”
I sighed and threw the sandpaper down on the workbench. “No.”
“Only you could screw up an apology. Youtalkedto Lola, right? You know, actually opened your mouth and didn’t just stand there being awkward for once?”
I shot a glare at him. “Italkedto Lola.” My sigh was defeated. “I just keep saying the wrong thing.”
That was an understatement. Every time I tried to make things right with Lola, I only made it worse. Frustration coiled around my chest. I needed to do something. Keeping myself busy and burying my problems was a damn good option. I snatched the chisel from the rack and got back to work on the cabinet.
“Did you talk it over with Miss Ruthie?” Harry asked. “Get a woman’s perspective?”
“I talked to Ruth.”
“And?”
“She told me I need to try a lot damn harder.”
Harry laughed. “I think she’s probably right.”
“I think I probably need better friends.”
Another of his laughs erupted in the workshop. Even though I scowled at him, a smile tugged at my lips as I flipped the cabinet.I should have clamped it, but I was distracted, so I steadied the side with my palm and started to square off the joints with the chisel.
“Well, if the rumours are true,” Harry said, “you better figure out how to make it right with Lola pretty quick.”
“Ignore the rumours, kid. The gossip’s all bullshit.”
Harry’s grin was far too smug for my liking. “But this ischurch ladygossip. Thebestkind. Those ladies know how to bake the yummiest cookiesandspill the best tea.”
I grunted. A sinking feeling blackened the pit of my stomach. Something warned me I didn’t want to hear any gossip from those old crows. I pretended to focus on tidying the edges of the cabinet instead.
“Yolanda was singing your praises,” Harry said. “No one else was buying it. Word of the crap you pulled at the Old Cellar has put a lot of the ladies offside.”
“That’s not news.”
“True. But I was minding my own business, rewiring the fans in the tearoom, and—whadda ya know—I just happened to hear that true love has blossomed for one lucky couple after all.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “Apparently, the lonely farmer will soon take a doctor for a wife.”
Jealousy boiled my blood. That split second of distraction was all it took. The chisel slipped. A flash of cold metal sliced through my hand like butter, and even though shock numbed the pain that should have followed, there was no mistaking what I’d done. Blood pooled into the wood, the raw pine blooming an eerie shade of red.
“Fuck.”There wasn’t much else I could say, really.
Harry made some otherworldly retching sound as if his soul had just been yanked out of his body. He flew back and hit the wall. He didn’t blink. His eyes were frozen wide open, and his skin drained to an icy white.
“You not good with blood, kid?”
Harry’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Don’t look at it, okay?”
First aid training be damned. The first rule of dealing with a cut was to raise the wound to slow the blood flow, but I kept my hand low, out of Harry’s line of sight. We didn’t need to end up with two casualties.
I called to him over my shoulder as I headed to the sink. “Do me a favour and grab the first-aid kit. Back room. Top shelf.”
