Chapter 2
I’m Not Going
Tessa
Thankfully, I haven’t had time to reflect on the insanity of this morning’s events.
The shop is busy with locals exploring the newest store on the block, and I’m thrilled that it’s being well received in the community.
I have everything invested in my cute little shop.
I’ve wanted this for so long, and the day has finally come where I own my own business and am putting my business degree to work for me.
There have been blips along the way. I’m learning to speak up for myself and stand my ground with vendors who are trying to take advantage of me.
I’ve learned the art of negotiation with some difficult people.
I keep what my parents have always said in mind: “You get more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.” So far, I have to admit, it’s been working.
I look around my shop and revel in what I’ve created.
White shelves line the walls with all sorts of unique crafts from local merchants, everything from homemade jams and preserves to paintings and gift items. There’s a rocking chair in the corner made by Tom Collins, a woodworker in the next county.
The detail of his work is magnificent. I placed one of his small tables beside it, along with a decorative throw blanket to make the space look cozy, and a book on the table to invite patrons to sit and try it out.
It’s been a big hit, and I’ve already sold three chairs and two tables, which are due to be delivered next week.
The glass counter near the register is where I’m displaying the homemade jewelry items. I found a woman named Vi who creates beautiful necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. She has her own online shop but has agreed to supply me with a variety of pieces that are selling faster than I can reorder.
I love my place, and Ruth does too. It’s a huge compliment to have Ruth’s approval.
She comes across as rough and mean, but she’s really a sweetie.
She hasn’t said much about her past, but from what little she’s shared, I can tell she hasn’t had an easy time of it.
Still, Ruth has a soft side, and I caught a glimpse of it the other day when she was running her fingers over a soft, fluffy baby blanket with a sad expression.
I wanted to comfort her, but thought better of it because I know how private she is.
I gave her space and came back into the room moments later, making enough of a clatter that she could hear me coming.
Now that there’s been a lull in the day’s activities, I can’t help but think about what happened earlier.
Bronson has been coming to my shop since I ran into him at the market a week ago.
I went to pick up a bottle of wine to add to the gift basket I’m making for a customer.
She purchased several items and asked if I could put them all together as a gift basket for a new neighbor.
It’s not something I normally do, but it’s another way to grow my business.
I made a few to display, and they’re all gone.
Bronson saw me wandering through the aisles and came over to offer his expertise with my wine selection.
He was polite and nice, but I knew right away that I wasn’t attracted to him as anything more than a friend.
I told him as much when he asked me out.
He looked wounded, and I left the store thinking I wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon.
Imagine my surprise when he dropped by the shop the next day and brought me a coffee. I was going to remind him that I could only offer him friendship when he said, “Friends drink coffee together, right?” I thought he got it, but today he showed up with roses, and I knew he wanted more.
What was even more shocking was watching Motown plow through my door like he was ready to rip Bronson to shreds. I was so stunned by the whole thing, I couldn’t put two thoughts together. But now, I have so many unanswered questions.
Where the heck has Motown been for the last two months?
He told me he doesn’t do relationships, and I agreed.
What I didn’t get was how much it would hurt not to see him again.
I don’t blame Motown. He told me from the start, and I wanted him so much that I was reckless with my heart.
I didn’t expect to like him as much as I did.
He was sweet, charming, and very sexy. He has a slight Southern drawl, and his thick, wavy, dark hair falls onto his forehead in such a way that you want to run your fingers through it.
And when he looks at me with those mesmerizing dark brown eyes, my knees get weak, and I feel breathless.
As much as I loved seeing Motown in my shop, I was less than happy when he announced that we’re going out tonight.
He apparently took one look at Bronson and decided to mark his territory.
Well, I’m not anyone’s prize. I’m Tessa Honeybush, an independent woman who doesn’t need to swoon over any man, not even Motown.
Although, I’m grateful that Motown’s sudden appearance made Bronson leave without me having to repeat my conversation with him about friendship.
Motown can come if he wants at eight, but I’m not going with him.
I’m going home alone. But damn, his kiss was amazing.
I missed his lips on mine. The night we spent together is etched in my mind.
Every moment, every touch, every whisper of his voice.
Just thinking of him makes my heart beat a little faster.
But I’m not willing to give more of my heart to a man who’s only looking for another hot night of incredible sex. No way, no how! I’m not going!
I push all thoughts of Motown aside as another customer comes through the door.