Page 6 of Startup Fire

“That's very generous,” Jess said sweetly. Too sweetly. “I promise I won't be any trouble.”

Wayne looked around the table. Every single teammate was nodding, already sold. He glanced past them—at least a dozen other people in the coffee shop were watching, listening. Robin was grinning behind the counter.

He'd walked right into an ambush, and the entire town was witnessing it.

“Excellent. Jessica, coordinate with Wayne on timing.” Murphy pulled out his phone. “We've got three weeks until the fundraiser.”

Wayne caught Ángel's eye. His friend was trying very hard not to laugh.

Traitor.

“So.” Jess turned to him with that same puppy-like enthusiasm, though now he could see the calculation behind it. “When would be a good time to see the barn?”

The logical thing would be to say no. To announce there'd been a misunderstanding, that he wasn't volunteering his workspace.

But Murphy was already texting the committee. Brandon was sketching demonstration ideas on a napkin. Half the coffee shop was smiling at Wayne like he'd just volunteered to save a kitten from a tree.

He was going to regret this.

“Now,” he said shortly, standing and grabbing his coffee. “Let's get this over with.”

Wayne unlocked the padlock and pulled the doors open.

The barn smelled like it always did: metal and coal smoke, old wood and oil. Afternoon light streamed through the windows he'd installed along the upper walls.

“Before we go in,” he said, not looking at her, “we need to establish ground rules.”

“Of course.” Her voice had lost some of its brightness, becoming more professional. “Your space, your rules.”

“First, this is my workspace. You can set up and work here, but if we both need the same equipment, I get priority. I'm not getting pushed out of my own barn.”

“Understood.”

“Second, you follow every safety protocol I set. No exceptions.”

“Fair enough.”

“Third—” He finally turned to look at her. “If this doesn't work out, if it becomes a problem, you leave. No arguments, no guilt trips, no getting my fire chief involved. Agreed?”

Something flickered in her expression. “Agreed.”

Wayne showed her the space—his forge, the ventilation, the layout. She moved carefully, respectfully, clearly cataloging everything with a professional eye.

“This is excellent,” she said quietly. “The ventilation especially. If I set up along this wall, we shouldn't interfere with each other at all.”

He had to admit she was right. The barn was large enough. And she was being careful in a way he hadn't quite expected.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.

“Since I was nineteen.”" She looked back at him with a slight smile. "BFA in glass from RISD. Three years in Brooklyn.

“Why'd you come back to Elken Grove?”

The smile faded. “My grandparents needed someone nearby. And Brooklyn was...” She trailed off, shook her head. “Let's just say the starving artist life loses its charm after a while.”

There was a story there, but Wayne wasn't going to ask. The less he knew about her, the easier this would be.

“If I bring my equipment tomorrow morning, we can do a test setup,” Jess said. “Or would afternoon be better?”

“Afternoon. I work mornings.”

“HVAC service, right?” At his surprised look, she shrugged. “Small town. Robin mentioned it.”

Small town, my ass.

They headed back outside. Jess paused at her car. “Thank you for this, Wayne. I know you didn't really want to help, and I kind of bulldozed you into it. But I promise I'll respect your space and your rules.”

The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard.

“Just don't make me regret this,” he said.

“I'll do my best.” She waved and headed to her car.

Three weeks, Wayne told himself. Just three weeks of practice, then the demonstration, and she'd be gone.

He could handle three weeks.

Probably.