Chapter Eight #3
“You’re Asian, right?” Abby asked Emma.
“Half.” Emma ran a hand through her own hair. She hadn’t done anything special with it—just given it a little wave. “But I definitely got the easy-hair gene.”
Her mom had always lamented her own straight, Asian hair, which she admitted looked lovely, but which wouldn’t take a curl, no matter what she did with it. Emma’s was mostly straight and simple to deal with, but a little more amenable to being styled.
Cursing, Hattie sprayed a cloud of some kind of mist on her frizz.
Abby leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “I have no idea what’s going on. Every time I come here while she’s getting ready, I feel like I’m watching a science documentary.”
Laughing, Emma put on her best British accent. “The combination of heat and keratin on human hair…”
“Hush, both of you.” But even as she was admonishing them, Hattie was grinning, taking the gentle ribbing in stride.
Sipping on their drinks, they made idle conversation while Hattie tamed her hair and put on makeup.
They mostly chatted about work; Abby glowed as she described the new orchids she’d gotten in at her plant shop, and Hattie grumbled about a couple of patrons who had annoyed her at the diner earlier in the day.
Emma kept things positive, recommending the romance novels she’d added to the new display she’d assembled in the front window of the bookstore, but keeping her mounting frustration with the mixed messages she was receiving from Granny about really taking over managing the place to herself.
As they talked, Emma found herself loosening up bit by bit.
Between Brock and work and her own tendency toward introversion, she hadn’t had many close girlfriends in ages.
There was Ji-An, of course, but she’d started as a work friend first, and considering that they currently weren’t speaking, maybe they hadn’t been as close as Emma had thought.
Was it possible that making new friends was really this easy?
But just as she was letting her guard down, Hattie met her eyes in the mirror. “So how was your hike with Hunter?”
Right. They’d been there at the shop when Granny and the mayor had roped Hunter into taking her up Mount Darcy.
“It was nice. The preserve was really beautiful.”
“We’ve been to the preserve,” Abby said gently.
Hattie was more direct. “How was spending time with Hunter?”
The way she asked it had Emma’s spidey senses tingling. She glanced between the two of them. “It was good. He’s nice. Easy to talk to, you know?”
Hattie snorted. “Hunter? Easy to talk to?”
Emma’s hackles rose. “Hey—”
“Just,” Abby interrupted, shooting a glare at Hattie. “He’s kind of a recluse.”
“‘Kind of’?” Hattie swiped a pale pink gloss over her lips. “He literally growled at me the last time I saw him.”
“He did not.” Abby rolled her eyes.
“Fine, maybe he didn’t, but he looked like he wanted to.”
“Because…” Abby prompted.
“Because I might have possibly been trying to yarn-bomb a sign at the preserve at the time. So technically, he was just doing his job, but he could have been a little bit nicer about it.” Hattie shot a glance in Emma’s direction.
“Don’t get me wrong. His gruff, silent-type schtick is hot, in its own way.
But I would definitely not describe him as a good conversationalist.”
Emma would. The whole time they’d been out hiking, she’d found herself struck, over and over again, by how nice it was to have someone who listened and asked questions but didn’t feel the need to talk just to fill silence.
Unlike Brock, who loved the sound of his own voice.
“Maybe he’s different around you,” Abby mused.
Hattie got a gleam in her eye. “Maybe because he’s your soulmate.”
Emma’s cheeks went warm. She understood that this was a small town, but how did everybody know about their supposedly fateful meeting at the Crossing?
She shook her head. “That can’t be real.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Abby said. And there was just a hint of annoyance in her tone that Emma hadn’t heard before. But then it was gone. “Do you think Hunter believes in it, though?”
Emma couldn’t hold in a bark of laughter. “Definitely not.”
She relayed the gist of the conversation she’d had with him, where he’d made it incredibly clear how opposed he was to the idea of some guiding hand of fate matching people up.
“Honestly, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe in relationships at all,” she confided. “Though…”
She chewed the inside of her lip. Abby’s brows rose in encouragement, and Hattie turned around expectantly.
“I, uh, did mention going to this line dancing thing tonight, and he said it wasn’t really his speed, but he might come.
” It all came out in a rush, and embarrassment followed hot on its heels.
This all sounded so high school, but it was true.
“I’m not actually expecting him to show, but he made it sound like it was a possibility. ”
“Whoa.” Hattie staggered backward dramatically, her hand on her heart. “Hunter Hall? Going to a community function?”
Abby shook her head. “Maybe you two actually are soulmates.”