Page 30 of When Hairy Met Stella

“That’s—”

“Something I should have realized sooner.”

“No.” He shook his head, willing his temper to cool down. “He should have been there for you no matter what you wanted to be.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “Even if I wanted to be a scarecrow?”

“Especially then.”

“You know, the last thing he said to me was that he hoped I wouldn’t choke on the salon like I’d choked at my audition.” Her eyes drifted off, which was a good thing because then she couldn’t see the way his fists balled at the confession. Though, she probably heard his knuckles crack. “I think that’s why…no, Iknowthat’s why I haven’t been able to make the changes I’ve wanted. I mean, I went so far as to order the paint and a few other things to remodel the salon, to make it mine. But they’ve sat in the supply room for weeks. And the one thing I really wanted, that chandelier you saw a photo of in my office…well, I couldn’t even bring myself to order that.”

Ah, now the remodeling supplies in the back room of the salon made sense. “Why not?”

“Because I feel like that’ll make it…real.”

Nate nodded. He could appreciate that. “But don’t you see? You’re rocking the business. You said yourself that our profits are up. I think you’ve earned the chandelier.”

This wasn’t about a fancy light installation. He knew that.

The strands of lights in the trees above casted a glow all around her, tiny spotlights she didn’t need to be seen. Because a woman like her shone from within, bright and warm, and even more so when she smiled the way she was smiling at him now. Why was she smiling at him like that? He was just about to ask when a baby Grogu walked up to the table.

“Trick or treat,” he said as he opened his bag.

And just like that, another moment with her was over. But instead of breathing a sigh of relief, like he had all the othertimes, there was a ball of something heavy in his stomach. It was disappointment. And it swirled with anticipation, wishing for the next time she’d let him in again.

Only next time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Chapter

Nine

“Looks like we’re the last ones here.” Stella walked into the conference room with their ginger-dead house balanced on a small tray and placed it on a table next to the others. The four houses would be a cute addition to the senior center, and she was glad they could do something fun while still giving back to the community.

“Everyone did a really good job,” Nate said as he stood next to her, taking in the different styles.

“We all did. I love how different they are. Obviously, this masterpiece belongs to Lucy.”

He nodded. “Because we all know Eric did not think to make stained-glass windows out of Fruit Roll-ups.”

Stella turned to the house with creatures dangling from the roof and melted marshmallow wrapped around the house, probably supposed to be spider webs but looking more like a s’more explosion. “And I’ll say this haphazard one had Johnny and Angie written all over it.”

“Definitely.”

She repositioned the pumpkin gummy that had come loose during transport while he watched her every move, much like hehad before the tiny trick-or-treater interrupted them at the zoo. She thought for sure that something was happening between them. But how much could you really tell from a look, anyway? He probably was just concerned for her, the way she spilled her guts about her failed audition, her failed relationship. He was likely wondering what else she’d failed at in life.

“It’s late, so we should probably get back to the room.” She gestured to the door, embarrassment settling in like a dense fog because she wished she hadn’t unloaded like that. He was her employee. Her fake boyfriend. None of those things qualified him as her emotional support person, though wasn’t that what he’d been a few times this week already? She was just confused, and this crush she was harboring for Nate wasn’t helping. What she really needed right now was some space. Not that she was going to find it in their shared room, but maybe a warm shower would be enough to give her a few minutes alone to think.

“Uh, Stella,” he said as he turned from the door. “It’s locked.”

“That’s not possible.”

He twisted the handle, pushing and pulling the door as he did so. “It’s possible.”

So much for space.

Her eyes tracked to the center of the room, at the giant divider that split the long banquet area in two. She rushed over to it because if they could get it to open, maybe the door on the other side of the room would be unlocked. But after a couple tugs on the handle, she gave up.

“Do you have your phone?” he asked, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that. Or that she’d left it in the room because she hadn’t brought a purse.

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