Free An Unexpected Love (Treasured Dreams Book 3) by Susan Hatler Page B

like a good time to be cautious. I turned to see what Dave had packed for lunch. He was an amazingly good cook, and our lunches always had a theme. Things like Italian countryside, which had included wine and pasta.
    “I thought we’d do a little American West today,” Dave said as he pulled out containers of vegetarian chili and homemade cornbread.
    “You spoil me,” I said, with a happy sigh.
    “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said.
    I bit into a piece of cornbread, the sweet taste filling my mouth. The corners of my lips curved upward and, once again, I felt truly lucky to have met Dave, who was so sweet and thoughtful. “This is delicious. Thanks for the wonderful lunch.”
    “There’s that smile I know and love.” He winked at me, then popped a spoonful of chili into his mouth. “You’re very welcome.”
    I breathed in, the scent of pine and earth invaded my lungs, but even that familiar scent couldn’t relax me. I knew I needed to talk to Dave about my problem. I swallowed my last bite of corn bread, a tiny frown tugging at the corners of my mouth. I felt far too vulnerable as I looked up at him. “I feel like I’m at a crossroad, and I don’t know which way to turn.”
    His brows came together. “How come?”
    I closed the container that had held my lunch, set it beside me, then took a deep breath. “I got a call from the owner of Moxie—that boutique downtown. She offered me a contract to start carrying a few lines of my jewelry. Not just in her store, but on their new website.”
    “Okay.” Dave nodded, then squinted off in the distance. He used this expression when he was listening and thinking about something deeply. “And there’s an aspect of the offer that’s obviously bothering you.”
    “Yes,” I blurted, feeling like that one word had released the block in my throat. “If I sign the contract with Moxie, then there are all sorts of things that could go wrong. I mean, after reading the contract I know they want at least two hundred pieces of jewelry initially, including earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. That’s a lot of new product to create. Sure, they will be duplicates of the original design of that line, but with that heavy of an order the quality would probably suffer. Is it really worth jeopardizing quality for quantity?”
    He raised his palms. “Holly—”
    “Plus there’s the added cost of supplies. I’d need to use everything I have in stock to make the first pieces for the store, and . . . I don’t know. It’s just too scary.” A chilled breeze whipped by, blowing my wild curls around my face. My eyes stung, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t caused by the cold wind. “What if no one even buys my stuff?”
    “I don’t think that will happen.” His eyes filled with emotion as he reached toward me, and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Your designs are incredible. Like the butterfly charm you’re wearing right now. The pattern of the stones is unique, and the colors are vibrant. Just looking at that one piece brings on a lot of emotion, as if a piece of the artist is in the design.”
    An incredulous laugh escaped my lips. “That might not be such a good thing since I made the butterfly this morning while this quandary swirled around my brain. My muse probably chose the butterfly because they’re in hibernation right now, which is where I’d like to be.”
    He chuckled at my sad attempt of a joke. “I’m sorry you’re upset, angel. I want you to know that no matter what you decide about the contract, I’ll be here to support you. How long do you have until you need to make a decision?”
    “Only until five o’clock today.” I dropped my forehead against his shoulder, then buried my face in his warm neck.
    He pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “That doesn’t give you much time.”
    “I know.” I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten. I lifted my head. “Until now, I’ve been this dinky little farmer’s market/craft show seller, which I’ve