Page 64 of The Long Game

I doubted that was true. A glance at the borrowed clothes told me they looked as tight around my hips and chest as they felt. “That’s… very kind of you. Thanks.”

“Of course,” she said with a wink. “Your workstation will be there. Right at the front.” She pointed at the left. “I had to physically drag that man to the front of the class, by the way.” I followed her finger with my eyes, stumbling upon a wide torso covered in a yellow apron with tiny daisies on it. “Can you do something to make him stop scowling?”

My eyes rose to Cameron’s face. He didn’t look happy. He was sulky and frowny and reminded me of a wet cat. It made me want to smile. “I don’t think I can, actually. I think that’s his face.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Cam?” Josie said in an overly sweet tone. “Will you be a doll and show Adalyn how to work the wheel? You said it wasn’t your first time throwing a bowl. And today’s really busy.”

I looked around, taking in the ample space inside the barn and finding small groups of people gathered around waist-high tabletops. My eyes spotted Diane, who was pretending not to look this way.

I turned toward Josie. “I think this looks a little advanced for me. I’m a beginner.”

Josie chuckled. “A pottery virgin.” She smiled. I cringed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands.” She gave my shoulders a push in the direction of my workstation. And the scowly man. “Come on, courage conquers all things. Even pottery!”

I reluctantly stumbled to Cameron’s side.

His eyes dipped, his jaw clamping down. “Cute overalls.”

“Cute apron,” I answered while Josie started shouting instructions in the background. “The daisies really bring out your eyes.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

I made a face at him, and his gaze dipped down again. Quickly. Wickedly fast. But I caught it. I resisted the urge to tug at the overalls.

“So, you know how this works?” I pointed at the wheel assembled on top of the high bench.

Cameron’s hand entered my field of vision. He flipped a switch on its side, making the plate rotate slowly.

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”

He made a show of thinking about his answer and had the audacity to look smug when he said, “No.”

“Perfect!” Josie exclaimed, startling me with the sudden closeness of her voice. She clapped her hands. “You’ve turned on the wheel! Yay!” Then she scurried away again, praising how therapeutic pottery was in what I’d learned was her monitor voice.

“Jesus,” I whispered, patting my chest. “How does she do that?”

Cameron didn’t answer, instead he drawled, “Seems like we’re throwing a bloody bowl, then.”

“Yay,” I murmured, watching him reach out for the block of mud. My gaze snapped at Cameron’s hands, his long rough-looking fingers. He’d taken off his ring. I lowered my voice, “I could figure this out on my own. I’ve read about it and watched more than a few how-to videos. I’ve done my homework.” His hands split the thing in two and started shaping one half into a ball. “I’m serious. You could just watch. Or leave.”

Cameron stretched his arm in my direction, holding the clay ball in his hand. “Fix the ball to the wheel.”

I hesitated.

That pair of forest-green eyes stared right into mine. “Stop overthinking and fix the ball to the wheel for me, yeah?”

He had that sulky look again, so I took the clay from him and let it drop on the plate with a heavy thump. I frowned at it. “Hold on, why aren’t we sitting down?” I looked around. “Everything I watched and read was done sitting down. I’ll get Josie—”

“Throwing while standing is better for your back,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that explained anything. “Put your palms around it and try to seal the edges to the surface.”

Lips pressed in a tight line, I tried to do as instructed, onlymanaging to make the plate of the wheel turn when I pressed on the ball every time. I spared a glance at Cameron, expecting to find him reveling in my frustration. He was unbothered by my failed attempts. His expression was calm. Patient. It reminded me of how he treated the girls. He tilted his head to the side, still waiting. It hit me then, that he was either letting me figure it out on my own or waiting for me to ask him for help.

An unexpected thought materialized. He’d make such a great dad. Beneath that irate, hard façade, there was patience. Gentle command. Warmth spread down my— Oh God. Why did this thought have such an effect on me? Why was I… picturing things? I didn’t even know if I wanted kids.

“You good?” Cameron asked.

“I…” I swallowed when I heard my voice wobble. What was wrong with me? “I can’t do this. On my own. Could you, perhaps, maybe, hmm, help?”

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