Page 31 of The Story of Us
She arched a brow. “And when was the last time you were here?”
Jamie knew good and well how long he’d been away—fifteen years. In fact, she seemed to love throwing that number around as if it were confetti.
He flashed her a tight smile as Chuck and Beth looked on. “Um. Well. It’s been…a while.”
“Since you graduated high school,” Jamie said flatly. “Right?”
The smiles on Chuck and Beth’s faces faded ever so slightly. Was it only his imagination, or had they both stopped sipping from their Ridley cups?
“About that.” Fifteen years wasn’tthatlong, was it?
Jamie’s gaze narrowed. “So how did you even come up with these designs if you haven’t even been here in a decade and a half?”
Okay, put like that, it definitely sounded like a very long time. “Well, I don’t need to be on location in order to create my designs.”
Again, it was the truth. Any architect would agree, but of course Jamie had to make it sound like nothing more than an excuse.
“Because it’s all the same? Just some stores to be torn down…” She waved her coffee cup at their surroundings.
He shook his head. He could see at least one shop in the far-off distance that would remain unscathed. “Not at all.”
“…History to be ignored,” she said sharply. Then she gave him a long, meaningful look that he felt deep in the pit of his stomach.
Were they still talking about Waterford? Because it suddenly felt like they were talking about themselves. As a couple.
Sawyer’s mouth grew dry, and he was suddenly very aware of the perfect shape of her impertinent mouth. Bee-stung lips, perfectly pink, like a bow on a present, just waiting to be opened.
Then she abruptly looked away. “Beth, how long have you had your hobby warehouse?”
“Thirty-five years,” Beth said.
“Thirty-fiveyears,” Jamie repeated, clearly for Sawyer’s benefit. “People have been coming to your store for everything they need, from scrapbooking needs to their homemade Christmas decorations.”
“That’s right.” Beth’s chest puffed out a little.
Jamie was on a roll now, talking a mile a minute. There was no stopping her. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to provide her with complimentary caffeine. “But because of where your store is located, some people—inPortland—think it would make a great place for some retail, space station-like mega development, forcing you to sell your life’s work. Is that right?”
Beth aimed a death glare straight at Sawyer. “It isnot.”
Even the guy Sawyer had hired to man the espresso machine was beginning to regard him with skepticism.
“No.” Jamie’s expression turned sweet, innocent—overly so, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “It is not.”
Sawyer squirmed as all heads turned toward him. Now was the time for a rebuttal, but he couldn’t seem to come up with anything that would justify putting Beth out of business or making her move to a completely new location. How was he supposed to compete with things like scrapbooking and homemade Christmas decorations? They were even more homey than cinnamon.
“It’s not a space station,” he finally said, a weak defense at best.
Beth and Chuck exchanged a dubious glance.
“It’s not,” Sawyer muttered again.
But no one seemed to be listening to him anymore.
And that’s how it’s done.
Jamie flashed Sawyer her sauciest grin, spun around and headed back toward her library cart. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back. No way. She was perfectly content to let him stew over there, neck deep in hot chocolate and lattes.
He’d really thought he could turn on the charm and convince everyone he was just a ‘hometown boy’ who wanted the best for Waterford? The nerve! Jamie wasn’t about to let him get away with that, especially since he obviously didn’t have a clue anymore about what the business district represented to the community. Free drinks couldn’t replace history and tradition, any more than a dash of cinnamon could make up for fifteen years of absence. That was a lot to ask of a common household spice.
