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“Also, maybe it’s time to call Janice and thank her.”

Libby nodded. The talent agent’s instinct had been impressive. “I’ll call her now. Will you send her a basket?

One of the big ones with champagne and caviar.”

“What should I write in the note?”

Libby sat in her chair and turned on her desktop. “Tell her she’s got a job here if she ever wants to moonlight.”

“You got it. I’ll be back with happy ending paperwork too.”

When Taylor was gone, Libby pulled up her phone.

Ignoring other messages and a missed call from her grandmother, she returned to their earlier exchange. After reading her texts a few times, she pulled up the picture of her in bed and stared at it. Her heart raced.

“When you know, you know,” she muttered.

Ah, shit.

C H A P T

E R 3 2

A WEEK AND A HALF LATER, it was all hands on deck for Reagan’s fundraiser. They’d decided on early December because short notice was better than competing with Christmas.

Libby had a crazy number of things to plan and favors to call in, but the all-nighters she’d spent with Reagan had been a nice reward. For her part, Reagan and her students were up to their ears in clay. Apart from purely artistic ceramics, they’d worked together to create impressive functional pieces for homes and gardens.

Armed with two huge to-go carriers of co ee, Libby banged on the massive metal door of Reagan’s studio with her foot.

“Good morning, Libby!” Freddie greeted her with a broad smile and an apron covered in paint and colored glazes. “I finished my set of four bowls. Do you want to see?”

“Help her with the co ee first!” Peggy yelled over the noisy roar of a dozen conversations.

“Sorry,” he said, taking the sleeve of paper cups under her arm and the bag full of sugar and creamer crammed under the other.

“Thanks for your help.” Libby smiled as one of the other students took the heavy co ee containers. “I can’t wait to

see what you all have been so busy working on!”

Freddie beamed and talked excitedly about having painted a pair of co ee mugs using slip, which he explained was a colored liquified clay. Libby listened attentively as she prepared two co ees. One for Peggy and the other for Reagan.

Once she’d seen everyone’s progress, she made her way through the maze of workstations. All ten tables were filled with two or three people working diligently. With just a couple of days before the event, most of the work was decorative, but some pieces were still being given shape. If they could get a reasonable sum for even half of the hundreds of pieces, it would be a huge success.

As she neared the back where the huge industrial kilns were, Libby wondered where Reagan was keeping her work.

Despite her many subtle and not so subtle inquiries, she still didn’t know what her girlfriend was making.

Girlfriend. The term caused a fluttering in Libby’s stomach. They hadn’t exactly used any o cial terms or talked about exclusivity, which was against her advice that people be clear about their expectations to avoid hurt feelings, but they felt o cial. Libby shook o the thoughts and focused on the moment. She was happy. Her needs were being met. That’s all that mattered. Defining their relationship could wait until after the event. Or the new year.

Or maybe Valentine’s Day.

The heat from the overworked kilns made the air thick as Libby approached the back. She was happy to tolerate the stu ness in exchange for the thin layer of sweat covering Reagan’s exposed arms as she stretched to retrieve pieces on the kiln’s highest shelf. Never did Libby expect to be attracted to a human in denim overalls, but there she was openly gawking at Reagan and her newly dyed blonde hair with intentionally exposed dark roots.

“Don’t drop that or Freddie will kill you,” Libby joked as Reagan carefully pulled a set of plates out of the kiln. She recognized the design.

Reagan flipped her humid hair out of her face. “Don’t I know it.” Her dimpled smile had an amnesia-inducing e ect. All that existed in the world were her gleaming brown eyes and heart-stopping lips. “Is that for me?” she asked, glancing at the little paper cup in Libby’s hand.

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed a little more nervously than she intended. “I figured you all could use the fuel today.”

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