There was nothing as blissful as filling a cart with craft supplies and yarn, and with my farewell craft show on the horizon, it also made my heart sink into my stomach as the lady scanned each item.

Sure, it was expensive, and sure, it was a lot of work, but it meant more to me than the Lakeside Daisy ever would. But I also knew that there was a chance it would never pay off nearly as well as being the HBIC of that place.

Chris was ever so kind by agreeing to drive me a few places while my car was out of commission, and it didn't really seem like I was going to have any luck getting someone to help me out with getting a new one. I thought for sure that focusing on an actual adult career was going to be my ticket back under my parents' wing, but it didn't seem like a phone call was enough for them.

Maybe they didn't believe me. Maybe they just thought I wanted something else without working for it.

I knew that couldn't be further from the truth, but in a town like Marblehead, it wasn't like there were opportunities everywhere we looked. I had to make my own, and it wasn't what they had in mind, so it was wrong.

As for Mason, he hadn't called me at all since our last evening on the boat, which seemed a little weird, but maybe he was just trying to seem cool like I was. Or maybe he was just waiting to talk to me in person. We did work together, after all.

With my crafts on the back burner where they belonged, I headed into the Lakeside Daisy to get some of my managerial stuff done. Even though I called it my nine to five, I didn't take those hours literally. A basic bitch needed some sleep some days. The only problem was that I couldn't come in later every day without a car since I had to either get a ride with Blake or Alex or borrow their cars.

Plus, Mason worked in the evening, so my timing had to be strategic.

With the reminder that I desperately needed a new car fresh in my mind, I sat down at my desk to get some work done. And as the hours droned on and on, all I could do was think about them in terms of a down payment.

One hour of work is approximately one two-hundredth of—

But before I could finish my math, someone knocked on the door, and before I could tell them to come in, they opened up the door and welcomed themselves into my office.

I smiled. "Hi George. How was your trip?"

George nodded. "It was as fine as it could possibly be, Marigold. It sure looks like you've gotten a lot done here. That stack of papers is a lot smaller than when I left."

I glanced at the aforementioned stack on my desk, then back up at him. "It would have been done, but work just keeps getting added."

George chuckled. "It wouldn't be work otherwise. May I ask you how that Mason kid is working out for us?"

I hesitated for a moment. There were about a billion ways I could answer that question, but I chose the most honest, most professional one. "People really seem to love it when he's here. I've had customers ask me for his schedule so they can eat to his music."

He nodded. "Good, good. He seems like a good kid, and I'd like to keep him around. I know he's got gigs all over the area, but if the customers like him that much, maybe we should think about trying to keep him to ourselves as much as we can."

I didn't respond to that right away. As much as I had to plan my schedule strategically, I also needed Mason's off-days so I could actually get work done. I liked having distractions just a little bit too much.

"Well, I'll look into it, but as long as he's playing for tips, we should be able to afford it," I said.

That was a very mature business response. Well done, MG.

George nodded. "If you could talk to him when he comes in today and gauge his feelings about that idea, that would be super helpful."

"No problem," I said, and with his favor asked, George left me alone in the peace of my office. I was pretty sure that he was just making sure that I wasn't playing hooky again, but I probably deserved that kind of treatment.

At least I now had an excuse to talk to Mason without seeming clingy. I was cool like that.

As the afternoon turned to evening, the next crowd began to come into the winery, and that meant that Mason's audience was arriving. I put my work down and watched the people coming in and out from the frame of my doorway, and as soon as Mason came in, I waved him over to come talk to me about his schedule.

"Could you shut the door behind you?" I asked.

"Are you firing me too, or are you not as cool as I thought you were?" he asked.

I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so I just smiled. "No, I just wanted to ask you if you would be interested in taking more shifts here moving forward. People really like the ambience that comes with the way you play, and—"

Mason interrupted me before I could finish the compliment. "Is this an attempt at what I think it is?"

"What do you mean?"

He didn't say anything, but he tilted his head toward me with his eyebrows raised.

"This is literally about work, Mason. Nothing else," I said.

He nodded. "Okay, okay. I was just checking."

"And even if it was about something else, you're acting really weird about it," I said. "I didn't realize it wasn't something you wanted to talk about."

Except he did want to talk about it. It literally could not have been clearer that he wanted to talk about it.

He shrugged. "It's nothing personal."

Sir? "I'm sorry, but what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It just means that I don't think it's something we need to talk about again."

What? How did he think that we didn't need to talk about what it meant and what we were and—

Oh.

That had to mean that it meant nothing and that we were nothing.

I shook my head as my eyes began to sting. Oh god. He had to leave right now. "Well, does that mean that you want more hours here or not?"

He shrugged. "I'll think about it."

I forced a smile and swallowed a lump in my throat. "Well, that's all I wanted from you. You can go ahead and get to playing now."

Mason didn't say another word to me as he left to go back to his post at the piano, and I wasn't sure how he could do that. It made no goddamn sense.

I put my face in my hands and let out a shaky breath as soon as I was certainly alone. I wasn't cool like that. I was a liar and a fraud.

I wasn't sure what I expected from a guy who had a pretty red sailboat, but it looked like we both got what we wanted from each other. I just wanted the illusion of something nice.

Then what the hell was he so insistent on me sticking around the winery for? Maybe I had it all wrong.

But Scorpios had some damn good intuition, and I would have had to be an idiot to let hope override that.

Maybe just a little bit of hope wouldn't hurt.

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Howdy friend! Thank you so much for reading!

So for this chapter's question, what is a food you hated as a kid, and do you like it now?

I have hated tomatoes as far back as I can remember. I still hate them. It might even be solely out of stubbornness at this point, but I'm in too deep now.