“I wasn’t even sure I was going to go.”
“I see. If you’d rather not, that’s fine. But I thought since we’re both coming from the same direction, maybe you didn’t want to drive alone in the dark. If that’s what was stopping you.”
No, what’s stopping me is going with someone I don’t trust.“That’s so nice of you to think of me.”
“I went last year. Some big-name sponsors come from Duluth and the Twin Cities. It might be another good networking opportunity.”
Not surprisingly, she hadn’t thought of that. But then, Brant had been in business a lot longer than she had. She’d mistakenly thought that a tree festival in Hendricks drew only locals. And driving alone along the North Shore in December with iffy weather forecasts was not appealing. It would be comforting to ride with someone, even if that person happened to be Brant.
“I’m still deciding. I’ll let you know.”
He smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
She turned so he wouldn’t see her swallow hard. If her goal for going was to meet potential clients, Brant might not be the best partner for an excursion like that. He wastoooutgoing, drawing attention to himself like a black hole. She’d have to make a conscious effort to stay away from him lest her own insecurities get in the way. That and, well, the trust thing.
“Meanwhile, I’ll take a Birch Morning candle,” he said.
Getting him out of her store so she could resume her morning was imperative. She felt so off her game with him standing behind her.
When she handed him the bag and watched him leave the shop, she shook her head. The memory of their kiss last year resurfaced. She touched her lips until she caught herself and slowly shook her head again. Outside, Brant glanced at the shop one more time before he closed his truck door and drove away.
Why couldn’t she let it all go?
When her mind inevitably wandered back to the details of their encounter, the bitter taste of hurt crouched on the back of her tongue. After the surprise kiss, Brant had let out a breath like he’d been punched in the gut. “You’re not…you’re…” he’d sputtered.
Layla remembered the sharp tone of the woman’s words who’d come up behind them seconds later.She’s definitely not me,she’d said as she looked at Layla.
She had been a shorter, curvier version of Layla and way more animated, her face screwed up in restrained contempt. She gave Layla one of those looks that could make flowers wilt.
Layla and Brant stumbled over themselves in unison, insisting it wasn’t what it looked like. Brant tried laughing it off, claiming Layla and his girlfriend looked similar from behind. He’d pointed to the mistletoe ball hanging over their heads too. Layla remembered the four of them staring upward at the hapless thing dangling over their heads as if it singlehandedly caused the whole commotion.
In hindsight, Layla understood how Brant made the mistake. Their red dresses did look similar. Same dark hair.You’re practically twins from behind, Brant had said. But then he went way too far in trying to convince Danielle he made a mistake. He remarked about the absurdity of ditching Danielle for Layla, a compliment meant for the other woman, no doubt. That was the part of the whole encounter that stung.
Layla had stood there, not knowing whether to slink away or take a stab at making light of the situation. She’d commented about there being one too many red dresses that night.
Danielle’s response had cut into her, too, a rude remark about seeing that same dress run across her social media feed a hundred times or something like that.
She’d watched Brant hook his arm around Danielle’s shoulder and usher her away, leaving Layla with the angry heat of humiliation flushing her face. Next to her, Charles had steered the conversation back to hiring her for a job, probably trying to ease Layla’s awkwardness. She’d only caught a fraction of what he said and, embarrassed, had to ask him to repeat himself. Thank goodness they were already friends.
The door chimes rang, pulling Layla back to the present. She waved to the two women who’d come in the door and stopped in front of the gingham pumpkin display at the front.
Maybe going with Brant would change her perspective. His reaction to their mistaken kiss had taken on a bigger role in her head the more she thought about it. It had to stop. If she looked at the chance to go back to Blueberry Point Lodge as a business move, going with Brant might be more palatable. It would be a test, that was for sure.
Question was: Was she willing to take it?
Chapter Ten
Her newest client, Sheila Montrose, led Layla into the atrium of her lakefront Georgian mansion. It was a sunlit morning, almost too bright to see in the room with walls of glass. Another light snow had fallen overnight, so the glare made Layla’s eyes water a little. She was tempted to put on her sunglasses as she walked over to one window overlooking Lake Superior.
“I feel pretty confident saying you could have been a designer too.” Layla looked over her shoulder at Sheila in time to see the incredulous look on the woman’s face.
“That’s very kind of you to say, but I’d be a nervous wreck. I have enough anxiety deciding which color guest towel to use when Chuck and I have company.”
That made her laugh. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Sheila.” Inside her bag on the couch, Layla’s phone dinged with a message. Whoever it was could wait until she left Sheila’s house.
“Not at all. I have the worst time making decisions about the house.”
“I appreciate that it might take forever to decide, but the outcome is gorgeous.”
