Clear as Glass
evident discomfort. “You boys were running around without a stitch of clothing in the middle of January. Two feet of snow layered the ground. Must’ve been cold.”“Well, I had longer hair back then. Kept me warm.” He tossed the pen onto the bench and scratched his jaw. “Did you find pictures?”
“Your fraternity brother posted a few. Three of them featured you. The photos were a little blurry, but I got the general idea.” Jaye grinned. Mitch looked so vexed, there was a good chance steam might come out of his ears.
“I never saw those pictures on the web,” he snarled.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I learned how to do a computer search when I was eight.” She waved a hand in the air. “Tracking down your past was child’s play.”
He rolled the paper into a tube and handed her the hand-drawn map. “Is there any way to delete those pictures?”
“You could ask your buddy to remove them from his blog, but I suspect a few thousand ladies have already downloaded your picture to their computers.”
With a grimace, he pulled a palm down his face. “Crap.”
Jaye laughed. “I expected to hear a different four-letter word.”
His hand opened toward her. “There’s a lady present.”
The statement sounded like a sincere compliment in his deep say-it-like-it-is voice. Jaye tilted her head. “Why doesn’t anyone around here know you entered a piece of glass in the Art Dealers Association of America show two years ago? I mentioned the competition to Sarah and Veronica, but they had no idea you won.”
Two vertical lines bracketed his mouth. Hitching his hands on his hips, Mitch looked down at the concrete floor.
“Wait a minute.” Her insides contracted and she almost reached out a comforting hand. “You did tell someone. Let me guess. You told your father, but he didn’t tell anyone else.”
Mitch’s shoulders shifted in a poor facsimile of a shrug. “Awards don’t sell stemware.”
She wanted to shake him. “Yes, they do. You’re an award-winning glassblower. Blake Glassware should boast about that achievement.”
“Not if the award is for sculpture.” He asserted.
His steady voice didn’t reveal any of the resignation he must have felt. Sympathy flooded her. “How many other contests have you won?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
His gaze flew up to hers, the furnace’s bright light making his blue eyes iridescent. “I’ve won seven competitions. Six of the trophies are in my office.”
Her mouth gaped open. “Where’s the seventh one?”
“I gave it to someone.”
“Oh.” Wondering who merited such a prize, Jaye glanced at the directions Mitch drew for her and sucked in a breath. He’d spent less than a minute drawing the map, but she never saw anything drawn so well. She looked up to thank him, but he was dragging a hose toward a bucket as though he was used to doing things without getting anything in return.
Something else they shared in common.
Awards and appreciation didn’t seem to matter to him, but Jaye knew Mitch deserved some recognition. She glanced again at the beautifully sketched map. Even though she’d witnessed Mitchell Blake’s ability to work with materials sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone, she held proof he possessed the sensitive soul of an artist.
A note printed in square letters ran across the bottom of the page. Don’t bring more money than you’re willing to lose. Veronica is serious about taking your money.
Jaye couldn’t remember the last time someone bothered to look out for her.
A few feet away, Mitch lifted a wood plank out of a bucket, sending an arc of water droplets into the air. “What else did your Internet search find?”
“Nothing much.” She walked away, putting enough distance between them so the roar of the furnace prevented further discussion. When she got to the heavy steel door leading out of the studio, she looked back at the man who did things for nothing in return.
The furnace’s glow threw half of his handsome face into shadow. His steady gaze burned across the smoky distance between them, the long lines of his body facing her, hands hanging loose at his sides like he was ready to catch her if she ran across the concrete floor into his arms.
For a crazy moment, she contemplated staying in the studio so he wouldn’t be alone in the roaring heat. She doused the impulse with a brittle reminder. Don’t fall for a man who doesn’t want you around.
Lifting the map, she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Mitch acknowledged the statement with a nod.
Jaye turned her palm toward him in silent goodbye.
He mirrored the action, splaying his fingers for a taut moment before lowering his hand.
Before she gave into the urge to sprint into his arms, she walked out.
Chapter Six
Jaye glanced at the pathetic cards in her hand. Ever since she took her place at Veronica’s kitchen table, she felt her luck slipping away. She’d lost nine dollars so far. Judging by the pair of threes staring back at her, she’d have to bluff for a chance to win.
A little girl approached, carrying a purple stuffed animal. “Would you like to pet my unicorn? His name is Mitch.”
“I know someone with the same name.” Jaye gave the sparkly creature a gentle pat. “Is your unicorn named after Mr. Blake?”
“Yes. He took me to the fair and won this toy.” With a little help, the purple unicorn made a regal bow.
Jaye scratched him behind the ear. “Do you think Mitch would kiss my cards? I could use a little magic.”
The unicorn slapped a loud, sloppy kiss on the faded cards and galloped away.
Jaye smiled at Veronica. “Your granddaughter is adorable. How old is she?”
“Lydia turns eight tomorrow. She and my daughter-in-law are living with us while my son is stationed overseas.” Veronica nodded toward a framed picture of a man in uniform. “In his absence, the men in town have taken Lizzie under their wings. Mitch took her to the fair in August. She adores him.”
Across the table, Sarah giggled. “What female wouldn’t love a man who wins her a truckload of