thought she was darting away from him. And since that was exactly what she should be doing, she let it go. “This looks wonderful,” she told Jenny as she reached for a thick slice of fresh bread. “And Grandma made herbed oil to dip it in? This is a treat.”
Seth started toward the door.
Gianna turned, surprised. “You’re going back to work already?”
He indicated the wall clock with a jut of his chin. “Play-off game today at four. I’ve got a date with my recliner.”
“Of course.” She smiled, and didn’t think of how nice it would be to spend the late afternoon watching football with him while the current storm blustered outside. She wouldn’t think about the coziness of a shared afghan or steaming hot coffee and a big bowl of chips.
She’d sew.
That was what she’d come here to do after all. To build a business with her grandmother’s help, to work toward summer with one eye on the clock and one foot on the sewing machine treadle. She had goals. Timelines. Objectives. Nothing could get in the way of that. But seeing Seth move into the shop area to continue his work made part of her wish she’d been invited to watch the late-day game with him.
Would she have said yes?
Probably not, although she’d like to.
But she would have enjoyed knowing she’d been welcome.
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