Page 7 of A Touch of Spring Magic

A hint of a smile graced Rustin’s hard but sensuous mouth that had driven her crazy in high school, but now mortified her.

“Miss Millie is a sly one. When can I swing by and pick it up?”

“What?”

“You have it, right?”

She crossed her fingers behind her back this time and the others in her pocket, the whole time aware of Storm’s pointed scrutiny. Really, she felt like his hard gaze was burning off a layer of skin, leaving her feel itchy and exposed. “Yes, I believe so,” she said faintly, dread filling her.

“Great. I can swing by later today and pick it up. Restaurant’s closed tonight. What time you home from work?”

Her gaze strayed to Storm.

No, Brent. If she thought of him as Brent, she’d forget their brief history.

Then Rustin’s question permeated. Work. Work she no longer had. And no way did she want Rustin coming up to the farm.

“Ahhhh, it’s a late night. Getting close to tax season.”

That wasn’t a lie, and if she worked hard researching for her business until late tonight, technically that too wouldn’t be a lie.

“No worries. I’m seeing Chloe tonight. Sister time.” If she smiled any brighter she’d break something.

“I thought you said you were working late.”

Dang it.

“Latish. I’ll give the book to Chloe tonight. I’m hosting a sister dinner. Sisters only.” She injected enthusiasm into her voice instead of the budding panic.

“Got it,” Rustin said and turned away, walking fast and fluidly toward the new riverfront walk toward his restaurant. Storm kept pace, and for a moment she let herself admire the masculine slight swagger that hinted at confidence, sex and less than zero F’s to give.

She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d forgotten Rustin and Storm had been friends before Rustin had left high school early to start at a culinary institute. She shut down the memories of Rustin leaving and her and Storm…no Brent’s high school rivalry. She had a book to retrieve before anything else could go wrong this morning.

*

Apparently, more troublewas in store because when she drove to the thrift store, which wouldn’t open for another couple of hours, the bag was no longer propped against the front door.

“Oh no.”

She ran up the stairs to the entrance. Why would anyone take it? No other donations had been dropped off. Maybe a volunteer had come in early. She peered through the window, coming face-to-face with Trina Reese. They both yipped in surprise.

“Jessica Maye, I thought that was you.” Trina opened the door and cocked a hip. “What are you doing here? I thought you worked in downtown Charlotte. Had your own loft condo. Miss Millie is ever so proud of you. I’m covering for her this morning, but you know that she volunteers Monday mornings to help sort the weekend donations.”

Jessica had forgotten, but relief swooped through her.

“Trina, so good to see you.” She smiled. “I am headed to work.”

How many lies would this morning hold? But perhaps it didn’t fully count. She could fudge as long as she didn’t succumb to her urge to curl up and lick her wounds when she finally got home, but would instead seriously start to plan out the garden restoration, and where she would put the actual nursery.

“I realized that I dropped off something for a donation on the way into work, but I made a mistake. My sister Chloe wants to keep the book I accidently dropped off. It’s a cookbook. I left it by the front door a little after six this morning.”

“Goodness, you city girls are up and about early. You could have called, instead of driving all the way back home. What must your boss think?”

Jessica never wanted to think of her boss or his thoughts ever again.

“It’s a special book to Chloe, and I misunderstood,” Jessica said, wanting to kick herself for being so spooked by the book that she’d impulsively created this drama. “I believe she’s going to use it for a project with her students or perhaps…”

She stopped. What was she doing? TMI to the extreme. Trina lived for any snippet of gossip, and Jessica didn’t need to feed her a meal. Then Chloe would know that Jessica had tried to get rid of the book. “I hope I’m not too late.”

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