Her Accidental Boyfriend(9)

For Kagan, though, love was an illusion that never lasted. She’d had her heart broken and didn’t want it to happen again. She’d watched her mom die, her dad close himself off…

She fiddled with her bracelet again.

“That’s beautiful,” Meg said, lifting Kagan’s wrist. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The gentleness of her grasp and the softness of her voice felt really nice. “Thank you. I made it.”

“You did?” Sela said, surprised. “Wow. You’re very talented.”

“Have you made others?” Meg asked.“I love the combination of leather, pearls, and silver beads.”

“A few. It’s sort of a hobby.” Now that she wasn’t working sixty-hour weeks for her father, she had time to explore her artistic side. She’d craved having a creative outlet for a long time.

“Is this an azalea?” Meg ran her thumb over the tiny silver flower that fastened the bracelet.

Kagan blinked half a dozen times in rapid fire. “Yes. They were my mom’s favorite flower.” She couldn’t believe she’d just shared that. She didn’t talk about her mom to anyone.

“Were?” Sela asked softly.

“She passed away when I was fifteen.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sela put her arm around Kagan and squeezed.

Meg’s eyes met hers. “I’m sorry too. This is a beautiful way to remember her.” Then she wrapped Kagan in a hug. No one, not even Charlotte’s mom, had embraced her in such a protective, caring way since her mom’s death.

Kagan’s arms involuntarily went around Meg and she held on tight, hoping to alleviate the familiar stab of pain. Meg must have sensed her need for this kind of closeness because she didn’t back away. She held on until Kagan released her hold.

“The pearls are because of my grandmother,” Kagan said without thought, pushing her shoulders back and wiping a finger under her eye. “She loved them.”

“Would you make one for me?” Sela asked. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

What?

“I’d love one too,” Meg said.

“Love one what?” an older woman dripping in diamonds asked, inserting herself between Meg and Sela.

“One of Kagan’s bracelets,” Meg said.

Pride. Meg’s voice held pride. Kagan’s knees wobbled and all of a sudden she felt warm. She took a slow, imperceptible breath and concentrated on the cool breeze wafting across the patio.

The woman glanced at Kagan’s wrist. “May I?” she asked, reaching a hand out.

Kagan lifted her arm. Meg made introductions as the woman examined her handmade jewelry. Another woman joined them. Then another and another. The mayor’s wife too. Discussion focused on her bracelets, how long she’d been making them, and if she had other styles.

“I stick to pearls, leather, and beads. I do use pink pearls too, and different styles of fasteners.” Her eyes drifted across the pool. Shane stood with a group of people, but he was watching her, his gaze hot. A shiver hurried down her back. How long had he been checking her out?

She couldn’t look away. He gave her a wide, real smile and her heart fluttered. She beamed back at him without a second thought.

Crap.

More than one of the women turned to see what had drawn her attention.

“I learned to make the bracelets when I was in Thailand,” she blurted out.

Sela’s eyes widened. Meg stared at her with genuine interest. Holy moly. She’d put on a fancy dress, worn a little makeup, and lost her mind. What was going to come out of her mouth next? Oh, and by the way, I’m Fred Donaldson’s daughter. I’ve been using my mom’s maiden name of Owens.

“I was fortunate enough to travel there a few summers ago. There’s a market famous for arts and crafts and one of the artisans was kind enough to show me how she made jewelry. My designs are very similar to hers.”

“I’d love for you to make me one,” the mayor’s wife said.

“Me too,” rang out from the group.

Kagan’s pulse raced at the response. She toyed with the pearls around her wrist and ran her finger over the azalea bead.

“I’ve got an idea for you,” Sela said. “I know it’s short notice, but Sunday is Cascade General’s Arts and Crafts Show. I happen to be the Chair since part of the proceeds are for the children’s wing. I could definitely squeeze another booth in and you could sell your bracelets.”

“I, uh, I’m not sure.” Yes was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t think such a public display was a good idea. Or if partaking in a community event might make her feel a part of something she really wasn’t. In a few weeks she’d return to New York. It was home, where memories of her mom were strongest.