Page 53 of The One You Want

I grinned. “Yeah. She got pretty intense about it. And she wanted all the Libbies to do it with her. Apparently there’s this whole workbook and all these exercises and if you do everything it’s supposed to help you reclaim your passion. Or your power. Or something. I haven’t really read ityet.”

His eyebrows went up. “This is the self-improvement project youmentioned?”

I felt a fresh wave of heat at the reminder of that terrible day in his workshop. “Yeah. Everyone is supposed to pick a goal to focuson.”

“So you figured you would look for ajob.”

I nodded. “It’s something I should have done ages ago. I’ve been far too content to just stick to the status quo because it was easy. But I don’t want to do that anymore.” I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “You saw what happened today. My grandmother is the pushiest woman alive—I know she told Bradford exactly where to find me. I need…” I trailed off, trying to think of a way to put it into words, this overwhelming need I’d been feeling to be free ofthat.

“I need to find my own way, you know? I love my grandparents, but I don’t want to feel obligated to them. I don’t want to feel like they have a say in all mydecisions.”

“And you think financial independence will help withthat.”

I shrugged. “It can’t hurt. At the very least, they won’t be able to hold my trust fund over my head anymore, not if I’m making a living on myown.”

He watched me carefully. “And you figured if she thought we were dating, she’d back off about that starched out twerp while you figured itout.”

“Yeah.” I fiddled with my coaster, guilt coursing through me. “But that was a shitty thing for me to ask you. I think I just…panicked.”

“Or maybe it was this book,” he said, and I was surprised to hear amusement in his voice. “According to Owen, it makes peoplecrazy.”

I laughed. “It really does. When Margaret started talking about it, I didn’t think anyone was going to buy it. I mean, you should see some of the utter crap these authors are touting.” He chuckled and I managed a grin, some of the guilt and embarrassmentfading.

“But the next day, it was like everyone had some kind of epiphany. It seems like everywhere I go, I find Libbies pouring over their work book or talking about it or trying to recruit more people into themadness.”

He squinted. “Is that what I saw Libby and that girl from the cafe arguing about in town square the other day?” he asked. “Something aboutlions?”

I snorted. “That’s the book. I swear, it’s like they all took crazy pills. They’re convinced this is going to change theirlives.”

He went back to studying my face. “And what about you? Do you buy it? Is this book going to change yourlife?”

I struggled with how to answer that. “Honestly? I think self-help is a bunch ofcrap.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, that low rumbly laugh I always loved to hear, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I hadn’t totally ruined ourfriendship.

“Why do you think it’scrap?”

I fidgeted some more. “So, um, the beginning of the summer? I decided I was going to totally revamp myself. An entire lifemakeover.”

I expected him to look surprised by that admission but instead, a smile played around his lips. “Let me guess—that haircut you got. And the…what was it? Tap dancing?” He smacked a hand on the table. “Those shoes you started wearing, the high ones that always made you trip. That was all part ofit?”

I gaped at him. “You noticed allthat?”

For the briefest second, I thought I saw his cheeks darken but when he merely shrugged at me, I decided it must have just been the dim light in thebar.

“You were falling all over your feet for a solidweek.”

I grinned. “Yeah, it was pretty stupid.” I bit back a groan. “And that wasn’t even the worstpart.”

Grant’s voice was lower, gentle. “What was the worstpart?”

So I told him about Dr. Miller, the way I’d convinced myself I could get him to like me if I could only be less shy and reserved. I told him about volunteering at the animal shelter and getting roped into taking all the cats home. I told him about the disaster with Mayor Jones at the talentshow.

And when I told him about finding Dr. Miller hooking up with Robin, he reached across the table and took my hand inhis.

“I’m sorry, Jenny,” he murmured, squeezing my fingers. “That really, reallysucks.”

I shrugged. “It’s been a while. And I’ve realized that I wasn’t really in love with him—I didn’t even know him, not really. I never even saw him outside of the shelter. It was more like…he represented all the stuff I thought I wanted, you know? He was confident and popular and driven in hiswork.”