Page 50 of A Touch of Spring Magic

“Now I have a shop?” She’d pictured herself taking payments with her phone, or other online options, though she really hadn’t given the checking-out part much thought.

Future Jessica problem.

“I know you’re not going to like this, but I’m going to say it.” Storm ran a hand through his hair, and the gold streaks caught the kitchen light. “I know you were planning to work more and have more money saved up, but if you’ve got money concerns you can always snag some bookkeeping jobs.”

If she didn’t know him better, she’d think he was embarrassed.

“There’s no shame in it. You wouldn’t be going backwards.”

She blinked, surprised with his insight. She’d figured she’d handle all the finances of her business of course, but doing other people’s taxes—except for Chloe’s—she had been seeing that as being the bright side of being fired. Storm was right. She didn’t like to hear it, but he made sense. Bringing in funds, especially now before the nursery was open and her to-do list was longer than her arms and legs would be smart. And lots of people and business waited until the last moment.

“When I moved back to Belmont, I wanted to leave residential and commercial building construction that I’d done since college far behind, but Rustin had just purchased Millie’s Diner, and not only was I helping an old friend, it was steady income, and because it was along the riverfront, I was hoping I could finagle some landscaping for the restaurant, or at least get to know some of the city and county workers, get some future referrals.”

“Smart,” Jessica acknowledged, realizing she’d likely be tripping over her pride if she weren’t careful.

“I know I’d be first in line if you were to have a side business. We could work a trade or straight-up payment. I’ve got quite a few friends who spend their evenings on the financial tangle of their businesses instead of with their families. I know Rustin and Rebekah were doing the Wild Side’s books together, but with the pop-up and increased business, he’s losing the little free time he has.”

“Huh.” Jessica hadn’t given bookkeeping much thought. Sure she was wildly overqualified, but that could make it closer to easy money as long as she limited her clients so her time for her business wasn’t swallowed up. “Maybe I could make a website, put some feelers out, though it’s close to tax season now,” she mused. “And consider also some trades.”

“I’m in.”

“What exactly would you be tradin’, Storm?” She let her voice slide all Southern just to mess with him, but the heat in his eyes lit a fire in her own lower abdomen.

Oh. No. What was she doing? She didn’t have time for romance. And definitely not with Storm. He was too appealing. Too much history.

“What would you like?” He apparently wasn’t such a coward.

Or grudge holder.

The image that shot into her brain—him tugging her closer, plundering her lips with his, tangling his fingers in her messy bun, pulling the scrunchie out—shocked her.

“To walk the property and discuss where we can build the pergola or the gazebo. I looked at a lot of designs last night, and there was a really cute bamboo gazebo I liked, but—” She broke off, feeling like she was striping herself bare. “I don’t want it to look…” She waved her hands, not sure what word covered it. “And it would make more sense to have the gazebo overlooking where I’m planting the tea, which isn’t in this main area near the house we’re readying for the party.”

“Let’s walk,” he said, and they stood up together, breath mingling.

Jessica closed her eyes, swaying toward him a little, and for a mad moment, she wished he’d touch her, pull her into his strong arms, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She had to be her own strength, but what would it be like to be held? To feel secure? Not so alone?

Instead, he stepped back so quickly his chair tipped, but he righted it before it hit the floor.

“You said you were growing tea in one field. Why not have an Asian-influenced bamboo structure overlooking it?”

His words buoyed her confidence, which they shouldn’t. She should just rely on herself.

“Why’d that make you sad?”

Such a simple question with a complicated answer, and the fact that he’d noticed surprised her. So much about Storm surprised her.

“I still care what people think,” she said slowly. “I was way too hyper-focused on other people’s opinions in high school and college. It made me act…not always like the person I was or wanted to be. And I know I need to share what I’m doing with my parents. I love them, but…” She paused. “Look at me talking about myself again.”

“I like hearing about you.”

Her heart sped up—boy, she had it bad. “If I talk about me, you’re talking about you.”

“Not much to say.” He gave her the aw-shucks charm smile.

“I’m on to you,” she warned, swinging the French doors open. The sun was warm on her face and it was the first morning that felt like spring.

Storm was still wiping off the marble countertops and for the first time, she didn’t try to stop him cleaning up.

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