Page 6 of Mountain Man's Autumn Angel
“Luca? You in here?”
Shit.
I yanked on my flannel, not bothering with the buttons, while Melanie frantically smoothed down her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and there was no way Bobbi wouldn’t notice.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I called out, stepping slightly in front of Melanie.
The door creaked open and Bobbi appeared, clipboard in hand. She stopped short when she saw us. Her gaze flicked from my half-buttoned shirt to Melanie’s rumpled appearance, and her eyebrows shot up.
“Oh,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I was looking for you about the cleanup schedule, but I can see you’re…busy.”
Melanie made a small, mortified sound behind me.
“What do you need?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Just wanted to confirm the vendor pickup times for tomorrow morning.” Bobbi’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “But maybe I should come back later? Give you two a chance to finish your business meeting?”
“Bobbi—” I started, but she held up a hand.
“No need to explain. Your property, your rules.” She winked at Melanie, who looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “Just remember, the festival grounds are still technically open to vendors until midnight. Might want to lock the door next time.”
With that, she turned and headed back toward the entrance, calling over her shoulder.
“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Luca. Have a good evening, you two.”
The door closed behind her with a decisive click.
Melanie buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God. She knows. Everyone’s going to know.”
“Melanie—”
“This is a disaster.” She peeked at me through her fingers. “She’s going to tell everyone that I slept with the property owner to get my partnership deal. My reputation is ruined before I even start.”
I moved closer, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “Hey, look at me.”
Her brown eyes were wide with panic.
“Bobbi’s not going to say anything. She’s not like that.”
“You don’t know what people will think. That I’m just some opportunist who?—”
“Stop.” I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Anyone who spends five minutes with you knows you’re not like that. Your work speaks for itself. This partnership isn’t about what just happened between us.”
“Isn’t it?” she whispered.
The vulnerability in her voice hit me like a punch to the gut. “No. It’s about your talent, your vision, your passion for what you create. Everything I felt when I first discovered your work online—that was real. Before I knew what you looked like, beforeI knew anything about you except that you made art that spoke to my soul.”
She searched my face, some of the panic fading from her eyes.
“This thing between us,” I continued, “it’s separate. It’s bigger than business. And if you want to call off the partnership to keep things simple, I’ll understand. But don’t do it because you think I don’t believe in you.”
“I don’t want to call it off,” she said quietly. “I want both. The partnership and…this.”
Relief flooded through me. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, Melanie. Not now that I’ve found you.”
She bit her lip, a small smile finally breaking through. “So what happens now?”
I glanced around the pottery barn, then back at her. “Now? We go to my house and finish what we started. Properly. With a locked door and no interruptions.”
