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Zoey examined the pieces on his workbench, then noticed the small wooden rack above with seven delicate heart pendants. She moved closer, studying them. “These are exquisite. The detail work is remarkable.”

“Heart pendants for a breast cancer research fundraiser,” Jess said quietly. “His mother died of it. He makes them every year.”

Zoey's expression softened. “That's beautiful.” She glanced at Jess with a knowing look. “You know what would be incredible? Collaborative pieces. Mixed media is having a moment right now. Metal and glass together—think of the possibilities.”

Ideas sparked through Jess's mind. Glass flowers with iron stems. Candle holders where metal provided structure, and glass provided color and light.

“I'm sure you could find a metalworker willing to collaborate,” Zoey said carefully. “Perhaps someone already sharing workspace?”

Heat crept up Jess's neck. Was she that obvious?

The back door opened. Wayne stepped through with two water glasses, stopping short at the sight of Zoey.

“Wayne! Good to see you.” Zoey's smile was warm. “I was just ambushing your studio-mate about the winter fair.”

Wayne glanced at Jess. “Her work's good.”

“Better than good.” Zoey hoisted her bag. “I should let you work. Jess, I'll email you about the feature. And think about the fair—application deadline's November first.” She handed Jess a business card. “Call if you have questions.”

“Thank you. Really.”

After Zoey left, Wayne handed Jess a water bottle. “She ambush you?”

“In the best way. She runs an arts blog. Wants to feature me. And the winter fair—apparently, it's a big deal.”

“Yeah. Good opportunity.” Wayne returned to his workbench.

“She suggested collaborative pieces. Metal and glass.” Jess watched his face.

His expression didn't change. “Makes sense. They'd complement each other.”

That was it? Jess felt frustration flare. She'd just been handed a path forward—validation, a platform, the possibility of building something real here. And Wayne's response was neutral politeness.

“I'm going to apply,” she said, defensive. “I think I can build enough inventory.”

“You should.” Wayne picked up his hammer. “Your work's good.”

The words should have felt validating. Instead, they felt like a dismissal.

Jess returned to her workspace, excitement dimming. This was exactly what she'd come for—the chance to focus on her craft, to build a career on her terms.

So why did Wayne's distance suddenly feel like rejection?

She hadn't come here to find a man. She'd come to rebuild her life, her career, her purpose.

Except it didn't feel like a distraction. It felt like a constant hum she couldn't tune out.

Jess glanced across the barn. Wayne worked the bellows, his back to her. Professional. Focused. Keeping exactly the right distance.

She forced herself to look away and reached for her next glass rod. She had a plan—build inventory, apply to the fair, get featured on Zoey's blog. Real steps toward a sustainable art career.

That was what mattered. Not the way her heart had jumped when Wayne returned. Not the way she'd wanted him to look impressed, excited, proud.

Not the way his neutrality had felt like a door closing.