Free Almost Perfect by Julie Ortolon Page B

weren't willing to give up a single thing for me, but you gave up years of your life and the thing I thought mattered to you most for another man."
    Her back stiffened. "I'd like you to remember, I was seventeen when I broke up with you—and twenty-four and married when my husband was diagnosed with cancer. What was I going to do? Divorce him?"
    "No." Anger glinted in his eyes. "But it still pisses me off."
    "I'm sorry you feel that way. I can't change the past. What concerns me now is the present. Can we or can we not work together without this bitterness constantly between us?"
    "You're asking a lot."
    "I know that." She wanted to shake him, since she was doing this as much for his sake as her own.
    He finally sighed. "The most I can promise is to continue being civil."
    "You call that civil?" She gestured toward the camp. "You're treating me like a total stranger whose presence you can barely tolerate."
    "You are a total stranger! The Maddy I knew would never have put her art aside for anyone. I still can't believe you did that."
    She shook her head. Reasoning with Joe was like reasoning with a rock. "If it helps, that's why I'm here. To find out once and for all if I'm good enough to make it as an artist."
    "What do you mean 'if you're good enough'?"
    His temper built again, but oddly, it seemed to be on her behalf. "You were good enough back in high school to win that scholarship."
    "That doesn't mean I'm good enough to get a gallery to represent me."
    "What kind of bullshit is this? Of course you're good enough." He paced away, confusing her with his agitation. Her art was the reason she'd tossed out for rejecting him. Why would he defend it? Turning, he came back. Planting both hands on the canoe, he leaned toward her. "You want to reach a truce with me? Fine! Here's my conditions. If you're going to put me through a whole summer of hell, you damn well better make it pay off."
    "What are you saying?"
    "I want you to do what you said you were going to do. Become a professional artist. That's why you jilted me, right? Well, if you want me to stop being pissed, you damn well better do it."
    "Joe…" She blinked in surprise. "It's not that easy—"
    "I assume you brought a portfolio or something."
    "I did, but—"
    "Good." He straightened. "I have to go into town tomorrow to pick up paint for this canoe. You're going with me so I can take you to some galleries."
    "Joe, I have work to do tomorrow." And riding around with him was the last thing she wanted to do. "I'm supposed to help Sandy clean out the prop room."
    "Tough. She'll have to manage without you, and you'll work twice as hard the next day to make it up to her."
    "But—"
    "I'm not kidding." He leaned forward again. "If you're staying, you are not going to play around at this. You're going to do it."
    "I see." Her own jaw tightened. "Is this where I snap to attention and say 'Yes, sir!' "
    "Damn straight. I'll pick you up at the Craft Shack at oh eight hundred."
    ----
    Chapter 7

     
    Sometimes in life, we all need a little nudge to get us moving in the right direction. If we ignore it, we're likely to get a shove.
    — How to Have a Perfect Life
     
    Joe felt a little shell-shocked the following morning as he drove his truck toward the Craft Shack. How had the conversation gone from Maddy telling him about her perfect late husband, the Geek, to him offering to take her into town? Offering? Hell, he'd told her he was taking her, which was nuts in the first place and even crazier because he'd gotten away with it. The Maddy he knew hated being ordered around.
    Instead of getting her back up, though, she'd agreed.
    Or maybe she'd been too tired to argue anymore. He'd watched her run the full gamut of emotions last night, which, admittedly had weakened his defenses. When he got to the Craft Shack, she would probably march out to the truck and tell him what he could do with his offer to help.
    That would be for the best, he assured himself. Far wiser than spending the