a quick squizz and giving me suggestions about the refit? Your interior design skills are legendary around here.’
Heat crept into Jane’s cheeks. She’d completed a six-month interior design course at a small college in Echuca when she left school because she’d always loved prettying up rooms. It had been her thing, something she’d wished she could share with her mum but their relationship had always been shit. She loved the feel of fabrics, the splashes of colour, the art of arranging furniture for good feng shui. Because Gladys had spent an inordinate amount of time making every room in their mansion perfect, Jane’s idealistic teen self had envisaged opening a small business with her mum one day, doing something they both enjoyed.
That dream, along with several others, had been ripped apart courtesy of Gladys’s callousness after her dad’s death that had driven a wedge between them permanently. Since then, Jane had helped out a few folks in town. She’d had a hand in redesigning the CFA’s meeting room, the main hall and the boutique in Main Street. They’d wanted to pay her, but she’d refused. It had been her way of giving something back to the town she’d always loved, a way to show them she wasn’t the spoilt entitled brat many of them assumed.
Another thing townsfolk didn’t understand: why she stayed around. Having a substantial trust fund meant she could’ve escaped to Melbourne and beyond when she turned eighteen, but Jane had never craved freedom like so many others in her year at school.
What Jane wanted was the one thing that remained elusive.
Security.
She wanted a partner, a strong, silent type who would provide her with more than money could buy. A stoic, dependable man like her dad, who she missed every single day. And if she couldn’t have the man, at least staying in the town she’d grown up in gave her some semblance of the security she craved.
‘Hey, where did you go?’ Betty snapped her fingers in front of Jane’s face. ‘You totally checked out for a while.’
Jane grimaced. ‘Rehashing memories I shouldn’t.’ She stood. ‘Shall we check out this new space?’
‘Great. The real estate agent left me a key so we can do some preliminary planning.’ Betty led the way out of the bakery. ‘The advantage of living in a small town, huh?’
Betty was one of the most recognised faces in Brockenridge so it didn’t surprise Jane that the realtor trusted her with a spare key.
‘Here we are,’ Betty said. ‘I’ve got a few ideas already, but I’m sure Mason will have more.’
Jane stiffened, not wanting to have anything to do with Mason Woodley after the way he’d stared down his snooty nose at her earlier. But before she could beg off helping Betty, the door to the empty shop opened and the man himself appeared.
‘Glad you’re already scoping out the shop, Mason.’ Betty squeezed her son’s arm as she bustled past him. ‘I was just telling Jane you’d have some ideas for this place but I really want her opinion.’
‘Why?’ He stared at Jane like he’d stepped into a bucket of paint and she resisted the urge to flip him the finger.
‘Don’t be rude.’ Betty’s sharp rebuke had Jane biting back a grin as Mason glowered. ‘Jane’s got a good eye when it comes to interior design and I want her input.’ A loud beep emitted from Betty’s smart watch and she groaned. ‘Damn, I forgot about the flourless orange cake. Why don’t you two get started and I’ll pop back soon? Besides, this place is going to be Mason’s baby so it’s only fitting he has more input than me.’
Jane’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted to do was give advice to a rude guy who wouldn’t value it.
But Betty touched her arm as she left, murmuring, ‘Thanks for doing this, Jane, you’re a gem,’ leaving her no choice but to stick around.
As if reading her mind, Mason said, ‘You don’t have to stay, I’ve got this.’
She tilted her chin. ‘So you’re an interior designer like me?’
‘I’m a patissier who’s trained with the best in Paris,’ he said, managing to sound condescending, patronising and cocky all at the same time, reminding her so much of his teen self she wanted to laugh. ‘So I have a vision of what I want this place to look like.’
‘And you don’t think I have anything to offer? Your mum’s a friend. She asked for my opinion so I’ll give it.’
He stared at her for a few tension-fraught