“Nosy? Noisy?”
“I was going to say ‘close.’ ” She bit her lip. “I didn’t talk too much, did I?”
“No.” He felt bad for putting that look on her face, even for a moment. His family liked her. That was no reason to act like a jerk. He pulled a board from a rack. “I’ve got some good live edge oak here. For the shelves. Unless Daanis is mostly looking for storage.”
“Oh, that’s gorgeous. But I think they’re going in the nursery closet. So…”
“Sure. I’ll stop by, take some measurements, ask her what she wants.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope.” Hell, he’d install wire racks from a box store on the mainland if that would make her happy.
Her smile lit her face. “Thanks, Joe.”
She wandered without invitation deeper into the shop, looking and touching. The last time she was here at night, he’d lifted her up onto that table. He tucked his hands under his arms.
She ran her hand along a black walnut bar top. “This is new.”
“Yeah.” His tongue was in knots. “It’s a commission for one of Kelsey’s clients in Chicago.”
Her hand stroked the grain, raising bumps along his skin. “You’re so good at this.”
He shrugged, uncomfortable with her praise. “It’s a job.” Not a calling. Not anything that would take him away from the island. If Rob hadn’t died, maybe…
“It’s a gift,” Anne insisted. “To take something rough and unfinished and transform it into something beautiful and lasting…I couldn’t do it.”
He frowned. “Sure, you could. You’re a writer, right? That’s kind of what you do. Take an idea and turn it into a story.”
“Real writers, maybe.” Her smile twisted. “I don’t seem to be able to finish anything.”
The sadness in her voice, the unaccustomed slump of her shoulders, ripped at him.
He dredged his mind for words to say. “You just need to find the right material. The right project.”
She looked at him, her eyes all shiny, and whatever stupid feelings were roiling in him didn’t matter. He pressed his lips to hers, silencing them both, keeping up the light pressure until he felt her respond, until her lips parted and her hands crept up to link behind his neck. He meant to keep it easy. Comforting. Only she was kissing him back, touching hertongue to his, and she tasted like cake, and she felt soft and warm against him, and the work table suddenly seemed like a possibility after all.
“I think you should go for it,” she told him between kisses.
His blood surged, hot and low. “You sure?”
She drew back and nodded. “It’s your art. Your passion. It deserves your best effort.”
Passion, yeah, but…His hands froze. She was talking about the fucking furniture. He raised his head. “Not gonna happen.”
“But you have a chance to follow your dreams. Kelsey said…with the right investment…”
Frustration coiled inside him. She was always pushing him. Looking out at some bright horizon she could see where he could never go. He knew she was trying to encourage him, like he was one of her damn students. But all he could hear was what he was doing wasn’t enough.
“I can’t afford it,” he said bluntly. “I don’t have the time. Or the money.”
And even that was too much. She was smart. He watched her face as she figured it out. “Because you bought out Dad’s half of the business.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Because Mom needed the money,” she continued slowly. “That’s why she said you’d been good to her.”
“It was a good deal for both of us,” Joe said. “She got a fair price, and I got the business.”
