Free The Wishing Season by Denise Hunter Page B

drain.”
    “Well, maybe it’s not all about money for me, PJ.”
    She thought of those faces on his presentation board and her face heated. It wasn’t all about money for her either. It was aboutproving herself. To her family. To the community. To herself. But he didn’t need to know that.
    “Maybe not, but Mrs. Simmons will certainly take that into account. And if any more incidents happen, you can be sure I’ll be passing along my suspicions to her.”
    A shadow flickered over his jaw as he clenched it. “You do that.”
    “I will.” PJ turned on her heel and left the shed, her heart beating up into her throat.

Chapter Thirteen
    PJ JUMPED FROM R YAN ’ S TRUCK AND WENT AROUND TO THE back where all her belongings were piled in the bed. It would’ve gone faster with more people, but her sisters and their husbands were conveniently busy today.
    “I really appreciate your help,” she said.
    “Don’t forget you promised me pot roast. And mashed potatoes—homemade.”
    “The beef’s in the Crock-Pot as we speak. I even seared it and used my secret rub.”
    He lowered the tailgate and pulled a box forward. “It better be good. You have a ton of junk.”
    “Of course it will be. And it’s not junk. It’s kitchen equipment.”
    “How many blenders does one person need?”
    PJ grabbed a box and started inside. The last three weeks had sped by in a flurry of renovations, work, and hiring. July was almost over, and PJ had set a grand opening date of August first. Her nerves were getting the best of her. She’d had two more anxiety episodes this week. They’d left her shaky and scared. She hoped she didn’t have another today in front of Ryan.
    At least there had been no more suspicious incidents. She and Cole had settled into a sort of stalemate. They spoke only when necessary and tolerated each other’s noise and presence. She hada feeling it was about to get harder now that they’d be living under the same roof.
    An hour later, her belongings were settled into the house and the bed put together. She helped Ryan push it against the wall.
    “So where’s your partner today?” he asked.
    “He’s not my partner. And I don’t know or care where he is.”
    He smirked as he set her nightstand in place.
    “What?”
    “Nothing. It’s just, that’s not what Madison said.”
    PJ pursed her lips. “Madison is a lovesick newlywed. She’s seeing things that aren’t there.”
    “I trust her instincts. Which is more than I can say for you.”
    He was joking, but the barb stung. It was true she seemed to have a radar for losers. Never more so than with her last relationship.
    The doorbell rang as PJ set her lamp on the nightstand. “That’s Layla.”
    “Saved by the bell,” Ryan said.
    She smacked the back of his head as she passed him, then scooted past before he could retaliate.
    Layla was their brother-in-law Beckett’s sister. A home stager, she’d offered to help PJ arrange the tables and find inexpensive wall hangings and centerpieces.
    PJ hugged her at the door. The woman had always been beautiful, but since she’d married Seth Murphy in a whirlwind wedding a year and a half ago, she downright glowed.
    “You get prettier every time I see you,” PJ said. “I could almost hate you.”
    “You’re one to talk. Hey, this place is great.”
    “It should be. I’ve been working my butt off.”
    “Seth said you practically live at the hardware store these days.”
    PJ made a face. “I have the bills to prove it.”
    Ryan entered the foyer. “Hey, Layla.”
    “Hey, Ryan. I heard you’re the work mule today.”
    “Basically.”
    “Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’s getting paid in food.”
    “And I’m going to eat like a pig, so make plenty.” He turned to PJ. “If we’re done here, I’m going to take off.”
    “Don’t you want to stay and help pick out centerpieces?” PJ asked.
    He scowled. “What time’s dinner?”
    “Five thirty. Don’t be late.”
    “I’m the one