"You guest lecture when the mood strikes you. That's different from showing up every week, whether you feel like it or not." She smiled. "Welcome to retail, Connor. It's mostly showing up. AndTuesdays have been thin—three students last month. You still game?"
"I'll fill the seats or teach whoever shows."
She released my hand and returned to her yarn, fingers moving with practiced ease. "We'll talk details later. Contract things, percentages, timelines. But Connor?" She looked up. "I'm glad it's you. She would be too."
When I finally stood to leave, Margaret called after me. "Don't forget your merino. Bottom shelf, left side, behind the sock yarn."
"You were hiding it."
"I was saving it." Her eyes crinkled. "Now get out of here. I've got inventory to pretend to do while I drink this excellent coffee you brought me."
Outside, my phone buzzed before I'd made it three steps.
Rhett:How'd it go?
He knew I'd been planning to talk to Margaret.
Hog:Good. Really good. At the workshop?
Rhett:Where else would I be? Door's open.
When I arrived, the workshop lights spilled a warm glow across the snow-covered gravel. Through the window, I saw Rhett bent over something on the central workbench.
I shouldered through the door, bringing cold air and snowflakes with me.
He glanced up.
"Told Margaret I'm serious about the store," I said, setting the yarn on a clear counter section.
"It fits you. You make things that last."
His words were huge, but I tried to deflect with humor, an old habit. "Guess I'm finally a man of property. Next thing you know I'll be complaining about property taxes and today's youth."
"More like a man of purpose." He set down the sandpaper he'd been using and brushed the dust from his hands.
I moved closer. "You sound pretty sure about that."
"I am." He reached out, fingers brushing the last snow from my jacket collar. "I watched you figure out what you wanted instead of waiting for permission from others."
I tensed slightly. "I had a good teacher."
"Who, Coach Rusk?"
"You, asshole." I caught his wrist and held on. "You chose this place when everyone else told you what you should do instead."
I kissed him because words were insufficient.
When I pulled back, his eyes were dark and soft. "Stay tonight?"
"If you take me back to your apartment for an actual bed, yes." I glanced at the table he'd been working on. "You almost done?"
"Close enough." He released me, stepping back but not far. "Let me clean up. Ten minutes."
My phone buzzed. It was Jake in the group chat.
Jake:Pickle just asked me if playoff beards are mandatory or "more of a vibe."
Evan:Tell him to focus on not falling down
