Page 48 of One Night Stand After Another
“I’m interviewing for a job with Fiber Kingdom,” she said stiffly.
“To do taxes,” Zane said, squaring off with Mr. Banan.
“I told you I’m going to pitch my designs…eventually.”
Mr. Banan chuckled. “James Buchanan is a fool if he hires you for anything but your eye for color and your clever design instincts. Love the hem on the gray one.”
“A woman in Denver suggested that stitch at crochet camp. I never would have thought of it,” she said.
“Crochet camp? What a marvelous idea,” Mr. Banan said.
“Clara is like an art sponge, absorbing her environment, and turning it into beautiful things.” Zane oozed smugness. “We’ve been traveling across the country, visiting yarn shops. She’s been in heaven, gathering ideas, networking, buying regional yarn. Did you see those socks? She made them with fiber from an alpaca named Freddie. Genius marketing hook, right?”
Shut up, Zane.
“And that crocheting class she attended sounded like a modern version of a sewing circle. Community-building. A way to pass on lost arts. A place to find mentors and grow ideas. The internet is great, but then you’ve got people like Clara, working alone with no idea how talented they are. A waste, right?”
Her mouth dropped open. Why was he humiliating her like this? He’d spent the week spoiling her. She’d clearly been in her happy place, incredibly inspired—hell, inspired by him—and now he was using the passion she’d shared with him to score points off her. For what? To impress Jimmy, who was nodding, like he agreed with Zane?
“Maybe you two can work something out,” Zane said. “Although she’s got plenty of attractive options.”
His cocky grin made her blood burn, but a cold feeling settled in her chest. She thought she and Zane had cleared the air and started over. She hadn’t touched the box where she kept her feelings about what happened between them at the graduation party, but she knew if she did, it would feel a lot like this. Like she’d trusted him, and he’d turned against her the minute someone he wanted to impress walked in the room. She should have known better. Zane couldn’t help being competitive. He’d needed that instinct to survive, but he didn’t need to compete with her.
She was getting out of here. Zane could stay with his new best friend and talk about her all he wanted. She was leaving. Good thing she’d kept her hotel reservation for tonight and through the weekend.
She took a breath to thank Jimmy Banan for his time, but he spoke first. “You said you’ve been on a cross-country yarn tour? It’s been a while since I did anything like that. If you have some time to spend with an out-of-touch old man, please stay a while. I’d love to hear more.” Mr. Banan beckoned them toward the back. The door he’d emerged from was open, and through it she saw a loom. An actual handloom. She’d never seen one in person. Her desire to learn crashed into her desire to run, and won.
Why should she have to leave? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d assumed Zane would respect her boundaries, and she’d been wrong. That wasn’t a crime. An error in judgment, maybe, but not a crime. There was no reason for her to lose a great opportunity because of him.
Never again.
With relief, she remembered Zane was leaving. “Zane has some business to take care of this afternoon, but I’d love to stay.” She pointed at the back room. “Is that a loom?”
“Text me when you’re ready for me to pick you up,” Zane said.
She thought about refusing. He wasn’t the only one with Uber on his phone, but then she’d have to meet him at his hotel to get her stuff. She didn’t know where he’d booked, but she did know it took forever to get anywhere in Los Angeles. “Will do.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brampton,” Mr. Banan said.
“The pleasure was mine.”
She watched them shake hands, and then Zane winked at her—he fucking winked at her—and walked out the door.Good riddance.She took a deep breath, trying to cool her anger and dislodge the ice from her chest.
She couldn’t believe she’d been ready to trust him.
Zane still had a throat punch coming, but meanwhile, she had a front row seat to a lost art, and she was glad she didn’t have to share it with someone who might throw her enthusiasm in her face and use it to suggest she was wasting her life. She followed Mr. Banan into the back room, and if part of her wished Zane had pushed back and fought to share this experience with her? She didn’t care. Her instincts were notoriously off-base when it came to him, and she was glad she had confined them to the span of a few days, which had ended the moment Zane betrayed her. Again.
She joined Mr. Banan at the weaver’s bench. “Weaving is old-fashioned,” he said, “but I find it calming. Plus, it’s good exercise. Old folks like me need to keep moving.” He sat on the bench, put his feet on the pedals, and picked up the shuttle, sending it sailing through the warp and weft.
It didn’t look like age was slowing him down much. “Something tells me you’re doing just fine keeping in shape.”
He smiled. “Maybe it just feels like I’m slowing down. My showroom is certainly falling behind the times, that’s for sure. I haven’t gotten out and about in ages. Tell me everything you’ve seen this week.”
“I’d be happy to share my adventures, but before I do, I’d like to say thank you. Your foundation gave me a hefty grant, which I used for college. I sent a thank-you note, but I’m glad to have this opportunity to meet you in person and let you know how much your help meant to me.”
Mr. Banan looked up from the loom, but his hands and feet kept moving. “I remember you,” he said. “No one else sent a thank-you note embroidered on a linen napkin. I still have it, and I’ve wondered over the years whether you’d continued to stitch. I’m happy to see that you have. You’ve come a long way since the photos you sent in your scholarship application. Those held promise, but your work has matured. Your boyfriend isn’t wrong. You have tremendous talent. Would you consider working for me? I could use some help in the shop, not to mention some new stock.”
His sharp eyes gleamed behind his glasses.
