Page 64 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.”

She nodded, reassuring herself that Nate wasn’t trying to change the rules. He was just tweaking them for practicality’s sake. “Thank you.”

“If you want, you can keep the truck parked out front and we can move your glass and equipment in here—get you a couple of heaters so you can set up a makeshift studio or whatever.”

Her heart beat faster as her stomach started churning. All of a sudden this whole situation screamed permanency. His keys. His truck. Her own studio. In his house. “This— More and more of my stuff is ending up over here.”

He shrugged as he rocked back on his heels. “If your toothbrush and paperback on the nightstand constitute more and more of your stuff.”

How could she explain that she needed to keep something for herself? She’d always held something back for herself—a defense mechanism she’d never been able to fully shake. “I just—I’m used to my own space.”

“Well, now you’re sharing some of it with me. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

But it was. She stared down at the keychain she held in her hand—the silver circle where she would add the house key that he’d already given her and she used every day.

“It just seems like a good idea,” Nate continued. “You’ll have more room to work when you’re ready to get back to it.”

She fought to swallow again. “I don’t know.”

“Who hurt you?”

“No one hurts me,” she said before she realized her thoughts had left her mouth. Her gaze snapped to his.

“You’d have to let someone get close enough to do that—let them all the way in.”

She frowned, not liking that he always read her so easily. “I let people get close. Molly and Gwen. You,” she added at the last second. Even though that wasn’t entirely true. But she was trying.

“Who ended things between you and Josh Moore?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“He was your last relationship, wasn’t he?”

“For a couple of months. But we were better friends.”

“You mentioned that. Who ended it?”

“I did.” She sighed. “Our careers made it impossible to develop anything serious. We barely saw each other. The tabloids made it into more than it was.”

Nate nodded. “What about your relationships before that?”

“There’s only one other. In college. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m trying to figure you out.”

“I’m not a puzzle.”

“Are you sure about that?”

No one talked to her quite the way Nate did—so matter-of-factly. He always cut right through the BS. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“I was the one doing the asking. About your college relationship.”

“I ended it. Or it was mutual, I guess,” she corrected herself quickly. “I just said the words first. He was an artist too—a sculptor. He didn’t like that Marion was looking at my work when I was a junior and he was the one who was graduating, so we moved on.”

“How long did that one last?”

“Three or four months. When we had time for each other, which wasn’t often with our schedules.” She touched her fingers to her temples as tension choked the room. “Is there anything else?”