Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,97
hadn’t been praised for much in her life. The uncharacteristic feeling of accomplishment was foreign to her.
‘My pleasure, though you’re paying me enough, so I had to produce something of value.’
He laughed. ‘Stop underselling yourself. You’ve got real talent.’
Increasingly uncomfortable, she leaned on a table. ‘I’ve always loved colour matching and the course I did years ago opened my eyes to how much I actually enjoy bringing a room together.’
‘Why haven’t you done more projects?’
His curiosity was natural but she couldn’t give him an honest answer. Instead she said, ‘How many people in Brockenridge do you think would want to hire an interior designer and how often?’
He grimaced. ‘Good point.’ He hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. ‘Why did you stick around? Of all the kids at school, I thought you would’ve hit the highway as soon as the graduation ceremony finished.’
‘What does “of all the kids” mean?’
He smiled, rueful, as if she’d caught him out. ‘Come on, Jane, you were the most popular girl and owned every room you strutted into. You were confident and gorgeous—you would’ve taken any city by storm.’
Flustered and incredibly flattered, she flashed him a coy smile. ‘Gorgeous, huh?’
‘You still are, but you don’t need me to tell you that.’ His gaze swept over her from head to foot like a physical caress, leaving her feeling vulnerable, as if he’d stripped away her jeans and T-shirt so she stood naked in front of him.
‘Actually, I do,’ she said, mentally chastising herself for flirting but unable to resist after his flattering appraisal. ‘It never hurts to get a confidence boost.’
His smile faded and she could’ve sworn the air, heated a moment ago, actually cooled. ‘What happened to you?’
Uh-oh. He’d seen through her. How did he do that?
She’d have to fake it like she’d done her whole life, pretending everything was fine when on the inside she died a little every day because she had no one to depend on. No real friends, no family. It sucked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve changed a lot. You’ve lost confidence.’
He took a few steps towards her and she wished she’d left when she’d first intended to. Having this man strip away her defences could only end badly. He wasn’t a keeper. He’d leave, and she could handle that, but it meant getting a grip on her stupid crush and stop wishing things could be different.
He stepped in front of her, concern darkening his eyes. ‘Did some guy do a number on you?’
‘No.’
‘This can’t be all about your mum.’
‘You know nothing about me,’ she said, holding up a hand when he looked like he wanted to hug her. ‘So please don’t try to psychoanalyse.’
He stiffened, his expression frosty. ‘I’m not doing that.’
‘Then what’s this about?’
‘I just want to get to know you better, damn it. I know you feel the attraction between us and now that your work here is done, why are you still determined to hold me at arms’ length?’
‘Because no good can come of you and me getting involved.’ She straightened, picked up her things, and held them to her chest like a shield. Then she turned on her heel and strode towards the door, but he didn’t let her get far. His hand clamped down on her shoulder and he spun her to face him.
‘Have dinner with me.’
Her heart leapt at the thought of a real date with Mason but she’d been right a moment ago: no good could come of this. She needed to stop creating fanciful notions in her head, scenarios that involved the two of them together for longer than a fling. Because that’s all she could ever be for him. That’s all guys were ever interested in with her. They saw blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, and instantly thought ‘easy lay’. The fact she’d played up to the stereotype for a while to embarrass her mother was all on her. She’d done herself no favours and in trying to reinvent herself in a town this size she knew it would be tough.
People gossiped about her. Even though she’d never been as bad as they thought she was, and no matter what she did now they still judged and found her lacking. Maybe it was time to move away? Have the final confrontation with her mother and move on? She hadn’t done it before now because she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of winning. Because that’s exactly how Gladys would view Jane leaving Brockenridge; that she was the victor.