Page 39 of Goode Tidings

Choosing not to entertain Eden's comment on her potential nakedness, I finish my internet search. "Eden Madigan works for Blossom Paperie as a surface pattern designer." I glance up from the screen. "What is that, exactly?"

Eden tucks her pencil behind her ear. It's cute. "I draw the designs for their wrapping paper."

My mouth peels open, and I stare at her like a man without brain cells. Which I think I might be since meeting her. "I didn't know that was a thing. I mean, it makes sense that a real person is behind those designs."

Her hand raises as if she was called upon. "That would be me. And others, of course. I'm one of many. Or I was, anyway." She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "Before I resigned a few days ago."

"You quit your job?"

She nods.

"To have more time for your wax seals?" Oh my. Can I take that back? No? What is wrong with me? Why can't I talk to Eden like a normal person?

She gives me a look that tells me she's baffled by me, and also she might feel a little bit bad for how dumb I am. "No. Because my boss stole my design and used it to win a prestigious collaboration for the company. And then, before I could tell his boss what he'd done, I found out they were—" She falters, looking for the right words. "Involved."

"Involved?"

"Sexually, for sure." She shudders. "Possibly more. I didn't stick around to find out."

I scratch an itch on my jaw. "How recently did all this take place?"

"Earlier this week."

"So you've been delivering coffee drinks to me every day, even though you just had a big life event occur?"

"Caffeine addictions aren't to be fooled with."

She doesn't seem particularly upset about quitting her job. More resolute than anything else. "What will you do now?"

She shrugs. "Update my résumé. Apply to other places. Continue to design, so I have fresh concepts when I get an interview."

"Is that what you're doing now?" I tap her sketchpad. "Designing?"

She nods. "This was supposed to be for next year's fall and winter paper for Blossom, but I guess it's mine now. I've been working on it all week, but"—her eyes fall to the open page—"I'm having a hard time getting the trees to look realistic. Then I realized I'm surrounded by pine trees. It's not as if I'm in the middle of the desert like I usually am when I'm designing. So I sent myself outside."

I peer at the paper, and when she sees what I'm doing, she explains, "It's only bark. Not that exciting. Just trying to understand the pattern so I can recreate it."

I shift closer to study the strokes of color, the different shades she's used to create depth. "There really is a pattern here, isn't there?" The curve of her shoulder is so close to my chest I feel its warmth. A breeze lifts a section of her hair, sending a tendril tickling over my neck. I ignore it all, focusing on what we're discussing. I'm determined to learn about Eden, and that doesn't include getting distracted by body heat and silky hair.

"Most of nature has a pattern it follows. It's easy to overlook." Her chin tips up to me, eyes finding me. They widen fractionally. Is it my nearness? Am I making her uncomfortable? It doesn't look like it. Her expression reads untroubled. Maybe even content.

I nod at her words, but more than anything my head is bobbing with astonishment. Every new thing I learn about this woman leaves me with a sense of awe.

I take a step back, even though I'm finding I don't want to. If I'm not looking directly at her design, I don't have a good enough reason to stand there besides you smell good and it feels nice to be near you. Obviously, I'm not going to say that. I clear my throat without really needing to. "What else have you worked on? Is there anything on the Blossom website you can show me?"

Eden gives me a quizzical look. "Are you seriously interested? Or is this your way of showing appreciation for my coffee-making skills?"

"I'm interested. Honestly, Eden. I don't have an artistic bone in my body. You—" a wash of shyness comes over me suddenly, but the look on Eden's face, the way she's waiting for me to keep going, makes me push through the discomfort. "You're impressive."

She beams. "I don't get a lot of compliments, so I'll take every one I can get. Even when I think they're bullshit," she adds.

"Hey, Eden?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not a bullshitter. A grump, and a hermit? Yes. But a bullshitter? Never."

She looks at me with that sparkle in her eye, the one I've come to recognize as her standard disposition. Like she's always half a second away from teasing me. "Good to know."