Done.
Shetriedto feel proud, feel fulfilled. She’d taken the first step toward her new future…so why did she feel so hollow inside?
Because it is not the future you want. Not anymore.
Behind her, in the empty silence of the machine shop, someone cleared his throat.
It wasn’t a good moment.
Ember jerked, releasing a little scream, then whirled around, the metal gouge held high as a weapon.
Was she planning on stabbing whoever had interrupted her?
Maybe.
Luckily, Max—because itwasMax—realized her intent and stepped backward, away from her, even as her brain was processing who he was and the fact that—aye, overactive self-preservation instinct—he had a right to be there.
“Whoa!” he called out, as if she were a horse. “Easy there, girl.Lass.”
The gouge still held above her head, Ember froze, breathing heavily. “Did you just call me a lass?”
His hands were up, palms out, as if to protect himself, but he didn’t move. “Um…yes? Is that alright?”
“Do you talk to your horses like that?”
“What?” He shook his head. “Ember, you’re not a horse.”
“Iknow that. Doyouknow that?” She was making no sense, and knew it, which was even more embarrassing. “Do not talk to me as if I’m a horse.”
“Look, Ember, you almost attacked me with a metal stick-tool thing. I just…reacted.”
Slowly, she lowered her arm. “This is a gouge. I use it to check the metal after it has been turned on the lathe.”
“Well, from here, it looks like a thick blunt instrument you were planning on braining me with.”
“Do not be ridiculous.” She rolled her shoulders and pretended nonchalance as she patted the gouge against her opposite palm again. “This is a stabbing tool. For stabbing.”
“Thank you for clarifying,” he intoned somberly. “I feel much safer now.”
Despite the ache in her chest, her smile flashed at his dry wit.
What are you doing? He broke your heart, remember?
But…did he? Or did she break herownheart with that stupid misunderstanding?
Her smile faded. “Are you here working, Mr. DeVille? I hope I did not disturb you again.”
When she’d called him by his last name—on purpose—he’d winced, but she thought she saw a flicker ofsomethingwarm and telling in those deep brown eyes when she’d reminded him of their last encounter here in the machine shop.
“Actually…” He cleared his throat. “I’m here looking for you. I have something to give you, so I went to the inn after work today. Supper was excellent, but you weren’t there. I cornered your sister, Bonnie, who told me you might be here, so here I am.”
“Here you are,” she repeated suspiciously, eyeing him. “To give me something?”
“Oh, yeah.” He fumbled for his pocket, pulling his coat aside. “Hold on.”
“Is it my other shoe?” He still hadn’t returned that.
But he looked up and shot a crooked grin her way. “No, I’m keeping that to remind me of the lass I fell in love with, the one who makes the most unique designs. But it was helpful, you see, in procuringthis.”
