Page 78 of Fernhill Lane

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“Wait. There’s a possibility that she could have a baby here?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly how far along she is,” I admit. “But she’sverypregnant, Tanner. Like, big. So I assume she’s getting close to her due date.”

“Great. I have no idea how to deliver a baby.”

I glance over when he gets quiet and shake my head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know how either.”

“But you’re a woman. You have natural instincts.”

“That’s not the same as medical training.” My voice is dry as I pass him his plate. “I’ve never seen a baby being born.”

“I wonder why she came up here by herself.” He takes a bite and then sighs. “God, that’s good. I’m starving.”

“How far did you hike?”

“About six miles. Felt like it was uphill both ways.”

“I love you, but I don’t ever want to do that with you.”

He takes another bite. “That’s okay. I don’t do it often. Your painting is beautiful, by the way.”

“It was a mistake. Bird scared the hell out of me, and I smeared green paint, so it evolved from a seascape to a meadow. It’s not bad.”

“It’s excellent. I work in art. I know these things.”

“Thanks. I guess, if you wanted to ask that customer you told me about, I could sell it to her if she’s interested.”

He stops chewing, and his eyes fly to mine in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure.” I shrug, looking over at the painting. “I don’t think it’ll fit at the inn, and I don’t have a place for it. If she wants it, she can buy it. And if not, I’ll gift it to someone.”

“I’ll take a photo of it and send it to her, see what she thinks. If you’re sure.”

I nod and bite my sandwich. “I’m sure. The past couple of weeks have taught me that although I love Gordy and Sunny and the diner—I don’t even hate the actual job all that much, although waiting tables is damn hard work—I just don’t want to do it forever. It’s fine for now. In fact, it’s great for now. But it’s not my forever job.”

We’re quiet as we eat, and then I can’t help but keep talking.

“Remember that day I met with Scott at Three Sisters?”

“Sure.”

“Cordelia said that she’d like to speak with me about doing some work for them. Between commissioned work and anything that I might sell through you, or maybe even online, I think I can make at least what I’m making at the diner.”

“It’s likely that you’ll end up making more, Sarah.”

“I don’t need more, although that would be nice.” I shrug and finish my sandwich. “I have everything that I need with what I have. If I can make my living from the art, I’d be stupid to pass that up.”

“I’m happy that you made this decision. And there really is no pressure.”

“As long as I can keep painting, there’s no pressure.” I grin at him and reach for a bag of marshmallows, popping one into my mouth. “Wanna find a way down to the beach and search for some shiny things?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” His lips twitch and then open wide when I toss him a marshmallow, and he actually catches it. “Thanks.”

“Let’s lock everything up and go down for a while.”

“Lock up?” He raises an eyebrow. “That means Petunia doesn’t get any fresh air.”

“We’re in the shade, and it’s not hot. Besides, I don’t have a great feeling about the girl down the road. There’s just something…off about her.”


Tags: Kristen Proby Romance