Read Online A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) by Natalie Charles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natalie Charles
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he joked, but she was right, his face was burning. He struggled to process the compliment and the possibilities. "That means a lot. Thank you."
Not that he could ever take her money. He had some saved up, and he figured if the time was ever right, he could apply for a loan.
"I'm offering you money here, sweetheart. Money from the sky! Low-interest loan. We'll work something out. You say the word and I'll have my attorney draw up some papers. I'm looking to diversify my investments, and I'd like to put something back into the community. Local businesses, you see what I mean?" She waved a hand. "I'm getting winded. You think about it. Promise me."
Nate's heart was pounding harder than it should have been, but he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I promise."
He doubted he could ever take Claire's money. If he was going to open a gym, he alone had to take responsibility for its success or failure.
She turned her head to stare and made a show of looking him up and down. "You still single? Look at those leg muscles. Someone needs to snatch you up."
He groaned and shook his head. "All right. Let's turn around and head back at that rock up ahead."
J essie woke ahead of the alarm. Or maybe she hadn't slept at all. She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that when she slumped to the bathroom and peered into the mirror, her eyes were puffy and red from crying. When she thought about the last words that Quinn had said to her, the shame burned in her chest.
Different social skills. What did that mean? She thought of all of the beautiful E&P wives and how elegant they were. Was she some sort of clumsy Neanderthal to him? She showered quickly and pulled her long hair back into a braid. By the time she was dressed, Jessie decided she was in a very foul mood.
She poured a bowl of cereal and milk and stood at the counter, watching Prince Travis. He looked like he was scowling. "I understand, Travis," she said. "Bad moods are contagious, though, so you may want to turn that frown upside down."
Well, so she was sounding like her father, who had the gene that predisposed people to be perpetually optimistic salesmen. Had he been born twenty years earlier, he would have gone door-to-door selling vacuums, she had no doubt. His particular talents had landed him in computer sales and taken him literally around the world. But whatever gene Dad had, Jessie lacked completely. Or so she would have thought, and yet here she was, pitching Dad-isms to her stuffed fox. "Never mind, Travis. You can be pissed off if you want to. Go ahead and let it eat you up on the inside."
Her ego was bruised, no denying it. To Quinn, she was some nobody who worked in a bakery and played with chocolate recipes in her spare time. She didn't know why she kept turning that thought over, because it sure stung, and she was hurting enough as it was.
She went through the workday mechanically and didn't mention anything to Uncle Hank or Emily. She was grateful that the bakery was busy. The normalcy of the routine helped. Then, as she left work for the night, she hit a wall of feelings.
Humiliation at not being good enough.
The shame that she had been judged based on growing up in a bakery.
Anger at the injustice.
Fear that she was unlovable.
She needed to snap herself out of it. There were things to look forward to, and plenty of distractions. That's when she remembered the dress that Wren had given her. She'd forgotten to try it on.
Jessie walked into her bedroom and opened the closet. She'd hung the dress in the center, and she slipped her fingers greedily across the fabric, feeling them glide. Now that she turned the fabric, she saw that it wasn't true sapphire, but that the color was translucent, shifting and changing with the direction of the light. She held it up to admire the plunge of the neckline and the elegant drape of the material. It was simple, but exquisite. "Beautiful," she breathed.
Jessie quickly disrobed. The dress fell easily down her body. Custom-made, she
Not that he could ever take her money. He had some saved up, and he figured if the time was ever right, he could apply for a loan.
"I'm offering you money here, sweetheart. Money from the sky! Low-interest loan. We'll work something out. You say the word and I'll have my attorney draw up some papers. I'm looking to diversify my investments, and I'd like to put something back into the community. Local businesses, you see what I mean?" She waved a hand. "I'm getting winded. You think about it. Promise me."
Nate's heart was pounding harder than it should have been, but he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I promise."
He doubted he could ever take Claire's money. If he was going to open a gym, he alone had to take responsibility for its success or failure.
She turned her head to stare and made a show of looking him up and down. "You still single? Look at those leg muscles. Someone needs to snatch you up."
He groaned and shook his head. "All right. Let's turn around and head back at that rock up ahead."
J essie woke ahead of the alarm. Or maybe she hadn't slept at all. She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that when she slumped to the bathroom and peered into the mirror, her eyes were puffy and red from crying. When she thought about the last words that Quinn had said to her, the shame burned in her chest.
Different social skills. What did that mean? She thought of all of the beautiful E&P wives and how elegant they were. Was she some sort of clumsy Neanderthal to him? She showered quickly and pulled her long hair back into a braid. By the time she was dressed, Jessie decided she was in a very foul mood.
She poured a bowl of cereal and milk and stood at the counter, watching Prince Travis. He looked like he was scowling. "I understand, Travis," she said. "Bad moods are contagious, though, so you may want to turn that frown upside down."
Well, so she was sounding like her father, who had the gene that predisposed people to be perpetually optimistic salesmen. Had he been born twenty years earlier, he would have gone door-to-door selling vacuums, she had no doubt. His particular talents had landed him in computer sales and taken him literally around the world. But whatever gene Dad had, Jessie lacked completely. Or so she would have thought, and yet here she was, pitching Dad-isms to her stuffed fox. "Never mind, Travis. You can be pissed off if you want to. Go ahead and let it eat you up on the inside."
Her ego was bruised, no denying it. To Quinn, she was some nobody who worked in a bakery and played with chocolate recipes in her spare time. She didn't know why she kept turning that thought over, because it sure stung, and she was hurting enough as it was.
She went through the workday mechanically and didn't mention anything to Uncle Hank or Emily. She was grateful that the bakery was busy. The normalcy of the routine helped. Then, as she left work for the night, she hit a wall of feelings.
Humiliation at not being good enough.
The shame that she had been judged based on growing up in a bakery.
Anger at the injustice.
Fear that she was unlovable.
She needed to snap herself out of it. There were things to look forward to, and plenty of distractions. That's when she remembered the dress that Wren had given her. She'd forgotten to try it on.
Jessie walked into her bedroom and opened the closet. She'd hung the dress in the center, and she slipped her fingers greedily across the fabric, feeling them glide. Now that she turned the fabric, she saw that it wasn't true sapphire, but that the color was translucent, shifting and changing with the direction of the light. She held it up to admire the plunge of the neckline and the elegant drape of the material. It was simple, but exquisite. "Beautiful," she breathed.
Jessie quickly disrobed. The dress fell easily down her body. Custom-made, she
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