Page 96 of The Route to You

Delilah gave her a quizzical look. “Are you—” She frowned. “Didn’t your family move a long time ago?”

Her look said everything that she hadn’t already hinted at by mentioning “the news.” She was well aware of Sloan’s father’s newfound wealth and success.

“Yeah, I just moved back. Trying to strike out on my own.” Sloan forced a smile. “But it was good to see you. I’ll try to come back for a class sometime soon.”

Delilah continued to stare at Sloan as if she’d turned into a giant puzzle piece. “That would be great. See you around.”

Sloan started back toward her car, heat flooding her cheeks.

“You know, I’m looking for someone to teach classes. Part-time,” Delilah called from behind her.

Turning slowly, Sloan steeled herself for the inevitable look of pity. But it wasn’t there. Delilah left her key in the lock and fumbled in her bag.

“Send me some of your portfolio, if you’re interested.” Delilah held out a business card.

Teach a painting class?

Sloan blinked at the card, her heart stumbling. “Oh, I’m not that good. Not anymore.”

“Most of the time, people who’ve taken classes in oils are already well above the skill level we teach for paint nights. I’ll check out your work, and then we can talk. And who knows, if it comes back to you, I have a long waiting list of people wanting private lessons. Those pay pretty well, too.”

Hesitantly, Sloan took the card. Maybe Delilah felt sorry for her. That had to be it. “Um . . . thanks.”

Delilah smiled. “Why don’t you come back Sunday around five? We close early that day, so we’ll have more time to talk.” She winked, then went into the shop.

Uncertain what to think about Delilah’s offer, Sloan hurried back to her car. It took nearly the whole drive home for Sloan to catalog the interaction somewhere between “things to be excited about” and “too odd to be real.” But Kyle’s truck was in the driveway as she pulled up, and that tilted her emotions a little toward excitement.

Yanking off her uncomfortable heels, she hurried into the house. “Kyle?” Sadie and Charlie greeted her at the door with barks, tails wagging, and she took the steps two at a time, stopping short as she reached the living room.

A gray couch and loveseat were in the living room, along with a television.

“Oh, hey,” Kyle called, coming down the hallway.

She glanced at the furniture and then raised her brow.

He smiled. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I saw them in my storage unit and figured I’d bring them over for now for some more comfortable seating than kitchen stools. If they’re in your way, I can always take them back.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, her skin prickling with strange warmth.

“I-I don’t mind, but . . . you didn’t move them yourself, did you?”

His mouth arched in amusement. “No, my dad and Liddy helped. Actually, it was Liddy who suggested we bring them. I think we shocked her with our spartan living arrangement.”

“That was nice of them.” She dropped her shoes by the banister and moved over toward the couch. “Can I sit?”

“No, they’re only for me. You have to stand in the corner.”

She held back a smile, dropping down on the couch. “So, not like this then?”

He stalked a little closer. “No, ma’am.”

“Uh-huh.” Locking eyes with him, she offered a daring look and then rested against the back.

“I’m warning you, Sloan.” He hovered over her, a scowl on his lips, but his blue eye amused.

“Or what?” She drew her feet onto the couch, then stretched them onto the armrest.

“Oh, you crossed the line now.” Kyle leaned over and scooped her up, throwing her over his right shoulder as she shrieked.