Page 2 of One Chance

Outtatowner’s annual ball where they attempt to pair up local singles through an old-fashioned date auction. To make matters worse, the women who organize the event make it for charity, so you’re a real asshole if you bail.

Emma beamed. “I’ll be there. I can’t wait for the gala. Dress shopping is myfavorite!”

I sighed. “I’ll see you there.” I placed a cash tip on the table and looked down the roadway for any signs of Lee, then directed my attention back at my friends. “But I’m only going so I can sabotage the planning and find a way out of it. I amnotspending another year getting humiliated or being auctioned off to Stumpy Larson again.”

A small snort shot out of Emma’s nose.

Stumpy Larson was a townie with one leg visibly shorter than the other. I didn’t care about his condition, or the fact that in Outtatowner we often got painful nicknames for the sake of humor. No, my issue with Stumpy was that he was known for whipping out his dick to show you just howinadequatehe thought the nickname was.

I shuddered just thinking about it. One night after too much wine, I’d told Charles Attwater, our local sommelier and object of my current crush, about it, and he’d turned as red as a tomato and quickly changed the subject.

Now Charles I wouldn’t mind getting paired up with ...

“Hey, Kate, think we can bribe Tootie to nudge Charles to bid on me for the dates?”

Kate grinned and lifted a shoulder. “It’s possible. She has mentioned she could use a new set of coffee cups.”

My smile widened and hope bloomed in my chest. “Consider it done!”

Kate smiled at me. “Don’t skip tonight. I want your input in planning your birthday too.”

Heat crept up my neck, like it did any time excess attention was thrown my way. Over the years, birthdays leaned more painful than celebratory. If it weren’t for the Sullivans, I’m not sure anyone would remember them at all.

I offered Kate a small smile when she wrapped me in a hug. I hugged her back, then looked at Emma. “Okay, we need to get to the shop before the rush.”

Kate’s bright smile was locked in place as she looked down the path where her older brother had run and shook her head. “Well, I’m headed home to bleach my eyeballs. Beckett and I have a new place to scope out for our nextHome Againrenovation.See you tonight.”

After a quick goodbye, Emma and I crossed the street to head toward my small Main Street storefront. Along the way, I scooped up Lee’s T-shirt, jeans, and one sock. He’d have to deal with finding the other.

After unlocking the glass door to my shop, I flipped on the light and looked into the small space. It was cramped, and every available area was piled with art. As a creative, my artwork was often chaotic. Ceramics were my specialty, so in addition to the small trinkets tourists loved, I had artfully arranged sets of plates, cups, and bowls—in various sizes to mix and match. All were hand-painted, beautifully glazed and fired.

“Can you open the register? I need to check on the kiln.”

Emma nodded as she flipped on the radio and began humming to the song that flowed from the small speaker. She was a loyal customer turned friend and an extra set of hands I needed during the busy summer season. She also didn’t mind getting shit for pay and bonuses in the form of finished artwork. Emma was a saint.

In the back room, the gentle hum of the kiln greeted me. It had taken a long time to save up for it, but the moment I could afford it, the kiln took my artwork from hobby to actual business. I was bursting with ideas to expand, but, unfortunately, in a tourist town tchotchkes were a dime a dozen.

I just need to find something that helps me stand out.

With a sigh, I dumped the armful of Lee’s clothing on my desk in the back. I took a moment to stare at the rumpled pile and willed away the lump that caught in my throat.

* * *

After a grueling dayof ninety-seven customers and a measly five purchases, I was done. As I stepped up to Lee’s apartment, I knocked twice. After accidentally walking in on him balls deep in some woman on his couch, I had learned the hard way to never,everuse my key without knocking.

I can never unsee that.

I knocked again and slipped my key into the lock. Lee was on shift at the fire station, so I didn’t expect him to be home.

Still, I only cracked the door before I called out to him. “It’s me! I’m coming in. I would prefer not to see your bare ass again today.”

Greeted by silence, I pushed the door open. Lee’s scent punched me square in the chest as soon as I opened the door. Earthy, yet floral, the clean scent was citrusy and at the same time hypermasculine.

I swallowed hard and walked into his space, gently closing the door behind me. The entryway table was bare except for a small bowl Lee used to deposit his keys and pocket change. The riot of reds and purples on the bowl had turned into a gorgeous melding of color, but one edge had sagged in the kiln. I had intended to throw the ruined dish away, but Lee refused to let me and stole it before I could toss it into the trash.

His apartment was meticulously neat, unlike my own organized chaos. I suspected it was partly because of his time in the Army, but also because his mother, June Sullivan, had been the most beautifully put-together woman I had ever known.

A painful ache bloomed in my chest when her smiling face filled my memory. June Sullivan never forgot a birthday.

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