But he didn’t head to the partiers’ table to find his own dance partner. His feet carried him the other direction, and he found himself staring at Hope, wondering what the hell he was doing. “Hey.”

She glanced up, and her smile vanished as she slammed her lips together. “Matt?”

Awkwardness edged along his spine, and he felt about ten years old. “How are you?”

Hope snuck a peek toward the bathrooms. “Good. What’re you doing?”

I have no fucking idea was the first thing in his brain. Couldn’t say that though. Like a damn fool, he slipped into the empty seat across from her. That at least put the table between them so he wouldn’t do anything stupid like dragging her from her chair and into his arms. “Just getting in some relaxation before the winter lambs start arriving. How are you?”

She leaned back, her uncomfortable expression twisting with amusement, and he realized he’d repeated himself. “Just fine. Not much changed since two seconds ago. Or since I saw you last week. Life’s not that interesting.”

Something had changed. Last week she hadn’t been in Clay’s arms. “Didn’t mean…yeah. Well. I guess I meant more… I mean.”

If he could have faded into the background, he would have. This frantic fumbling was not like him, but it seemed when it came to Hope, he had no style. He was so busy trying not to stare at the way her soft blue shirt stretched over her full breasts he didn’t quite know where to look.

“Hey. I wanted to tell you that timer on the thermostat? Wonderful invention.” She must have felt sorry for him. There was no other reason for her to actually be nice and try to put him at ease. “I’ve managed to adjust the times so the furnace is running at high for fewer hours, but the shop is toasty when I open in the morning.”

Matt grinned. “Yeah, it might take a long time to heat up a space that big, but the heat lingers, so you can turn it off a couple hours before you close and no one will notice.”

Their conversation was inconsequential. Furnaces and quilt shops, and he still fought his attraction. Talking about rising heat—the irony wasn’t lost on him.

He was so distracted by her blue eyes he didn’t see Clay return.

“You’re in my seat,” Clay growled.

Matt stared up at a wall. He wasn’t a small man himself, from working the land for years, but Clay was a bloody monster. “Resting my feet for a minute and saying hello.”

He rose. Clay stared daggers at him. Neither of them said anything, but the tension was there.

“I’ll be right back.” Hope escaped her chair and raced away. She was halfway to the bathroom in no time, and guilt hit Matt. It was as if she was fleeing from them.

“What the hell foolishness you working, Coleman?” Clay pushed Matt aside.

“Nothing. Honest.” Just being a stupid shit. Matt shrugged. “Thought I’d say hello and make sure she was okay. I pulled her from the car the other night.”

“She’s fine. Now that you’ve said hi, you can go find somewhere else to take a break.”

Matt nodded and backed off. There was no reason for him to be defensive. No right to be worried about Hope and what she was doing with Clay.

The section of the bar where he’d sat with his kin was deserted. Gabe and Travis were both on the floor happily dancing with the ladies. Matt ordered a second drink and steadfastly ignored everything but taking measured sips from his bottle.

Especially paying no heed to the part that wished he were the one tucking Hope up against him and holding on tight.

Chapter Seven

For a Tuesday morning, the shop was crazy busy. Hope hurried to enter another sale before turning to help find some last-minute items for a gift. Sweet relief accompanied the rush—she was going to survive her first Christmas season and make the required profit to fill in the gaps from the first lean months.

She smoothed her hair as she passed the tiny mirror on the wall between the register and the sales floor. Her cheeks were bright red from moving around rapidly, but it was the fact her smile was real that made up for a lot of her previous stress.

Maybe this solo-ownership thing was going to work. First anniversary wasn’t until May, but if she was careful she’d make it through okay, in spite of having Helen ditch her.

“Are you out of bright cherry-red piping?” Two customers waited beside the cutting table and Hope raced over to help them.

“There’s more in the back. Is that all you need? Because if you have other items to grab, I’ll be able to finish the orders for you in a minute.”

The ladies waved happily. “Don’t rush. We’ve got babysitters at home since the kids are out of school all week. The only thing left on our list is to stop for a cup of coffee.”

Hope pointed to the back sitting area where she’d arranged comfortable chairs around a tiny Christmas tree. “Help yourself. I put out some deluxe mixes this week for a special treat. You can have a coffee, chat—I’ll do up your orders when you’re ready.”

She watched with delight as three customers took her up on the offer and moved to the back, talking and dropping extra knickknacks in their baskets as they went.

Finding the extra piping in the back wasn’t nearly as successful. She found the box she needed readily enough, but the shelving units were more decorative than sturdy. She cursed lightly as the entire load tipped forward and slipped to the floor, one surviving box clutched in her fingers.

The disaster sprawled everywhere, but she’d have to clean it up once the doors closed. Hope rushed back into the shop.

Time flew as she dealt with sales, satisfaction accompanying her creeping exhaustion. She passed over another shopping bag and smiled happily. “Thanks for coming. Merry Christmas.”

Her cherry-piping sale pushed out the door, the front bells tinkling merrily, the same moment one of the hardware employees trolleyed in a tall box.

“Delivery for you, Hope. I’ve got three more in the truck. Where do you want them?”

The blast of cold through the door snapped off as he closed it behind him, but Hope examined his load with trepidation. “Why are you delivering my new shelves now? I thought no one could build them until the New Year? I asked for them to be stored until then.”

He snapped to attention, a grin plastered to his face. “You were on the Secret Santa list. Someone is coming out today to set them up for you.”

Mortification froze her feet in place. Only he looked so damn pleased about the whole thing she forced a smile. “Well. That’s…nice. Umm, I don’t remember signing up for the Secret Santa. In fact, I know I didn’t.”

“Your name was on the list, and someone volunteered to drop by. That’s all I know. Love this time of year—people are so giving.”

He pointed at his burden and Hope nodded. No matter how horrified she was, she couldn’t leave him standing there. “Can you put them just outside the back storage room, please?”

All the while she served her customers and tidied the shop from the mad scramble of the morning, Hope tried to figure out who the hell would have put her name down for the Secret Santa.

It was a charity service. She didn’t need help. In fact, she’d offered items herself, making a couple of quilts for the hospital and nursing home.

Being lumped as a charity case wasn’t a happy thought. Even the pleasure of getting to organize the chaos of the back room onto sturdy metal shelving wasn’t enough to eliminate the distaste in her mouth.

The phone rang, and she hurried to answer it, an additional flash of discomfort hitting as she recognized Clay’s voice.

“How’s my favourite fabric addict?”

She went with part of the truth. “Busy as the elves in the workshop. I can’t talk for long.”

“No worries. Just wanted to remind you I’ll be dropping by later with lunch and a surprise.”

Shit. She fumbled for words. “Right. Lunch.”

He hummed in disapproval. “You’d forgotten, hadn’t you?”

“Guilty.” Although, if he brought food over as he’d promised after their last date, at least that would force her to eat. Otherwise she’d have skipped lunch completely today. “I can’t guarantee a lot of time to visit.”

“You should have hired extra help over the holidays.”

Going solo was the only way to survive the cash drought. “I’ll get by. See you in…how long?”

“Forty-five minutes, an hour at the most.”

Hope dealt with customers and smiled and chatted, but half her mind was on Clay. He was a nice enough guy, patient and attractive…

And for some reason, he just didn’t ring her bells.

Maybe there was too much on her plate right now, and the libido could only take so much stress, but all she wanted was to chat a little then fall into bed—alone. Most definitely alone.

Crazy, mixed-up, stupid female hormones.

With how swamped she was, dealing with the issue right now was out of the question. She’d just have to acknowledge her system was broken. After the holidays were over, things would kick back to normal and she’d be interested in something sexual again. That had to be the solution, because there was no other way she saw to fix it.

She smiled up at the next customer and all her thoughts about broken sex drives fluttered away like tinsel on the wind. Matt’s firm jaw and cold-reddened cheeks were just visible above the raised collar of his thick winter coat—the coat he was removing and hanging on the rack. Like he planned to stay for a while. Tingles raced over her as if she’d hit an exposed wire on the Christmas light string.

“Can I get you something?”