I’m also a member of the guild. I don’t take the base income because I only make paper and do paper quilling as a fun hobby on weekends. On weekdays, I work the front desk at the local pediatrician’s office.
As far as I’m concerned, Foster Hale can kick rocks. But I’ll be polite out of love for my sister, since her new beau, Rowdy, is Foster’s best friend. Probably his only friend.
Although I can’t help but wonder why this hypocrite in front of me isn’t wearing a coat himself and yet found it necessary to actively correct my personal shortcomings when it comes to weather preparations, I soften my face and give a polite, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, staring. What is he looking at? Do I have something in my teeth?
“And now we’re standing here awkwardly in each other’s presence. Do you go around town handing out coats as a hobby, or…?”
“No.”
“That was a joke.”
“Oh.”
What a strange man.
I remember when he sat at my and Maddie’s table at the gala and auction last month. He didn’t say much then either. He and Rowdy gave each other shit once or twice in an oddly familiar type of way.
“Why’d you decide to be nice to me instead of half a dozen other people on the street not dressed for the weather?” I ask. Foster doesn’t answer right away. He stares. As staring contests go, he has lovely eyes to gaze into. They’re a kind of hazel, but more on the blue side.
“You were the only person I saw.”
I laugh and look around us at the dozens of people downtown this morning—shopping or walking to their law offices or stopping to pet dogs. Weirdo.
He hands me my cup. “I’ll return the coat on the way home. Gratefully, I take a sip of my cinnamon dulce latte and make an appreciative noise as it hits my tummy.
Foster’s beard twitches, and he squats to pick up something off the ground.
“Don’t forget this,” he says.
When he stands up straight again, he holds my debit card. I get a whiff of Foster’s personal scent, a faintly piney aftershave that I like. The man himself is a mountain, and smells like one.
“Thanks.”
His fingers brush against mine as he hands me the card. Heat rushes to my neck, and I quickly stuff the card into my bag,not bothering to take a moment to pull out my wallet and be meticulous about it.
And because I was raised to speak my mind, I just can’t let him go without saying something.
“Hey,” I add, “didn’t I sit at your table at the gala a few weeks ago?”
Foster gives a slight nod. “You did.”
“Well, I appreciate you changing your tune for the sake of the arts in Songbird Ridge.”
He looks at me strangely. “What do you mean by ‘change my tune’?”
I blink. “Oh, come on. Everybody knows you wanted to pull public funding away from the arts guild. It’s all anybody was talking about the week before the gala. But it’s nice that you’ve turned a corner and decided to be a team player.”
For good measure, I reach out to squeeze his bicep. I don’t miss the fact that he isn’t wearing a winter coat himself, and I can feel every ridge of hard muscle beneath the sleeve of his waffle-knit Henley.
“I didn’t…I wasn’t…why would you think…” He’s starting to shiver.
I brighten my smile. “I’m off to work. Thank you so much. I’ll come by and return. It’s so nice! This is quite a marketing strategy you have,” I say, running my hand up and down the opposite sleeve.
He glares at me as I wink, then head down the street to the clinic, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.
Later that day, I join Maddie and Riley at the Bluejay Café for some of Bianca’s delicious breakfast casserole and croissants.
