Page 79 of The One You Want

A while later,I was snuggled up next to Grant under the heavy quilt on his bed. Grant’s house fit him perfectly. Built nearly a hundred years ago, the farmhouse wasn’t quite as old as the stone kitchen-turned-workshop out back, but it had character—rough beams in the ceiling, a claw foot tub in the bathroom, lots of wide planked woodfloors.

The previous owner had done a lot of painting—the master bedroom had dark blue walls, the kitchen a cheery yellow. Of course, there were flowers inside, in pots and vases. There were also photographs and paintings on thewalls.

The entire farmhouse felt bright and cozy, a little cluttered even—Grant had a tendency of leaving botany books and potting soil lying around. It was, in short, the complete opposite of my stark minimalist white condo. And I lovedthat.

“We should probably get up soon,” he murmured as he ran a finger across the back of my bare shoulder. “You have the Libbies later, right? You’ll want to eat first so you have something in your stomach to soak up all thatbooze.”

I laughed at his quip but I was distracted, my mind on the meeting now that he brought it up. Grant noticed my quiet. “Youokay?”

“Yeah,” I assured him. “Just…not excited for the meeting, Iguess.”

“Why not? You said the last one went really well. Wasn’t that what gave you the idea to try out all the different careeroptions?”

“Yeah. And none of them have worked out sofar.”

It was his turn to be quiet, his fingers still rubbing circles on my skin but in a way that made me think he was contemplating something. “Can I ask you a question?” he eventuallyasked.

Something about his cautious tone had my guard up. “Sure.”

“Why are you going to all this trouble to find ajob?”

I rose up on my elbow so I could look down at him, bewildered by the question. “So I can support myself.” We’d been over this, more than once. It was the entire reason he agreed to fake date me in the beginning. “So I’m not so bound to whatever my grandparentswant.”

“No, I get that part,” he said, eyes studying my face. “What I don’t get is why you think you need to find a job. You already haveone.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to think what he could possiblymean.

“You’re an artist, Jenny,” he said softly, and I felt my entire bodytense.

“I’mnot—”

“Youare. You make beautiful pieces. You love doing it. People pay you for yourskill.”

“Making a few hundred bucks at the weekend market is hardly a living,” I argued. “Particularly when the market only runs for a fewmonths.”

“Remember what I said to your grandfather, about diversifying revenue? Sometimes you need to do that when you’re running your own business.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “There are other ways you can sell your jewelry,sweetheart.”

I tried not to feel the shiver that usually coursed through me when he called me that so I could concentrate. “Likewhat?”

“Sell on your website. Sell on Etsy. Talk to store owners in town and see if they’ll commission your stuff. Hell, talk to store owners on the mainland.” His fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to hold his intense gaze. “You’re good, Jenny. You’re really, really good. This is something you can do. I knowit.”

A lump rose up in my throat, making it hard to speak, and my eyes grew hot. I knew tears were only a few seconds away, but I couldn’t stopthem.

Through blurry eyes, I saw Grant’s face fall. “Shoot, did I say somethingwrong?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, not at all. It’s just…” my voice cracked and I rubbed at my eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before. That I’m good atsomething.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry the people in your life never told you that. Your grandparents…” he shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. “I guess you wouldn’t have expected anything different from them. But yourfriends—”

“It’s not their fault,” I said quickly. “I’m so closed off all the time, Grant. I use my shyness and my awkwardness as anexcuse—”

He shook his head. “That still blows me away. You’re the least shy person Iknow.”

“Because I’m different with you,” I shot back. “I’m…I don’t know, more confident? More real, maybe.” I shift on the bed, uncomfortable. “It’s not just the jewelry, it’severything. I don’t let themseeme.”

He cupped my cheek. “Then you know what, sweetheart? I think maybe it’s time you showthem.”