Page 47 of Windward Hearts

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

And maybe Jared felt as awkward as she did, because he added, “And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better about your granny crafts.”

This jolted a bark of laughter out of her, and suddenly the tension was broken.

“I really appreciate that,” she said. “Although, if I want to be able to keep doing this craft until I’m a granny myself, I should probably stop now that it’s getting so dark. I don’t want to strain my eyes.”

“Oh, let me help,” he said. They both gathered the supplies that Hope had strewn across the small coffee table that lived out on Miriam’s porch. Extra hands made fast work of the tidying.

They reached for the last piece at the same time.

Their fingers brushed.

Hope’s breath caught.

She tried to cover up the sound, the quick sharp inhalation, but her cheeks burned at the possibility that Jared might have heard it. It was one thing to have a crush and yet another thing to have a crush on someone who was, technically and at least for the time being, her boss.

She chanced a look up at him and found him looking back at her.

She hoped her blush wasn’t visible in the dim evening light.

After a long, agonizingly uncomfortable moment, Jared cleared his throat.

“Have you heard about the bazaar that Winnie Burnett is hosting with the historical society later in the year?” Jared said, making Hope blink at this unlikely segue.

“Uh, yeah,” she said. She wasn’t certain where this was going, but she wasn’t too proud to look an awkwardness-busting gift horse in the mouth. “Yeah, Winnie and I are in book club together.”

“Oh, yeah!” he said. “The group of women that meet at Eleanor’s bookshop, right?”

She nodded her agreement.

“Well,” he said, glancing down at her quilting bag, which was now neatly packed up. “Have you considered selling your quilts there? You could get a booth, and it’s a historical craft, right? Like, people have been quilting around here for centuries. I’m sure she could get some sort of information about it to go with your presentation. I don’t know. People would like them, I think.”

He stopped speaking when Hope began to wobble her head from side to side in a doubting sort of gesture.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, it’s a town event, right? And I’m more… town-adjacent than really part of the town. I don’t know that I merit a booth, to be honest.”

Jared was already shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s true at all,” he protested. “And I don’t think anyone, let alone Winnie, would say that about you. But if you’re feeling apprehensive about it, I could talk to her. If you want, I mean. It was my idea after all.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said at once, smiling at her. He really had a very nice smile. She really, really needed to stop noticing how nice his smile was. “I would be happy to.”

Hope felt light as air. It wasn’t just that Jared thought that her quilts were good enough to sell, it was that Jared was the one who thought that her quilts were good enough to sell. It was extraordinarily touching, and not just because he was so kind. He was also an artist in the kitchen, someone who knew the value of making something for others with his own two hands.

“Okay,” she said, then repeated the word with more confidence. “Yeah. Okay. I think I’d really like that. If you really wouldn’t mind.”

“I really would not mind,” he confirmed happily. “I’ll talk to Winnie in the next couple of days. In the meantime, you’d better get to stitching! I think your projects are going to be a big hit.”

And just like that, Hope was blushing again. This time, she found that she didn’t mind it that much. And she didn’t even mind that the flush, as well as the accompanying smile, lingered on her face long after Jared had bid her farewell for the evening and taken himself home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Even though Eleanor was an adult woman in her fourth decade of life, with a grown son and a successful business, she was still, it turned out, not immune to her little brother’s teasing. She had made poor Garrett discuss Shane’s comment about grocery store wine with her for more hours than she cared to confess to, and once she failed to puzzle out what he meant, she decided to get her revenge in another way.

By baking a cake.

As far as revenge went, it was not particularly vicious, but Eleanor was typically a wonderful baker and Shane had never developed the knack.