Page 80 of Hot and Bothered

“I had a better idea,” he said. “Did you know Lizzy’s dad is an accountant? I bet if she asked, he’d talk to you all about how to go back to school for that.”

”I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “I don’t know if I’m that good.”

“That’s why you go to school for it,” he said reasonably. “They teach you how to be good at it. What do you say?”

“You really think I could do it?” I asked.

“I know you could,” Mason said confidently. “So, am I setting up a meeting with you and Lizzy’s dad?”

Without letting myself think twice, I answered.

“Yes,” I said. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Are you serious?” I heard Lizzy wail in the background. “I did everything I could to avoid that fate, and now she’s walking into it with open arms!”

Mason chuckled as he hung up.

I stared at my phone.

Accounting school. I could learn to be an accountant.

A smile grew across my face.

I could have a real career, doing something I actually enjoyed.

“Are you okay?”

I startled at Jacob’s voice as he walked out to join me on the veranda. He must have come looking for me when I didn’t return.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve just got a lot of thoughts going through my head right now.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’ve been away from all this for a while; it must be difficult to get used to again.” He side-eyed me. “Especially the amuse-bouche.”

“It was a single cherry tomato!” I said, indignant.

“I could have eaten a handful more,” he nodded in agreement.

My tense shoulders relaxed.

Even though I’d never loved him, Jacob wasn’t a bad guy. I shouldn’t have run out on him the way I had.

“I just want to say again, I really am sorry.” I turned to him. “I panicked at the moment and didn’t know what to do, so I just ran.”

“I have to tell you, it was a blow to my pride,” he admitted. “Being stood up at the altar is probably every guy’s nightmare, along with getting rejected after proposing in public.” He lifted a shoulder. “But I’m glad you came back. All that fresh air did you good.” He gave me the once-over. “You look great.”

“Fresh air?” I asked.

“At your great-aunt’s cottage,” he said. “I don’t know how you were able to live without a cell signal for that long. Personally, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

My great-aunt’s cottage. So that was the story they were telling people. I’d run away to go live in the woods like a hermit. I supposed that was better than admitting I’d shacked up with a stranger and was washing dishes at a bar.

“Right,” I said. “Fresh air does wonders.”

“I suppose you’re going to get back to planning now that you’re home?”

“Planning?” I asked. What other stories had my parents been telling people?

“The wedding,” he said. “Our mothers are already fighting about table centerpieces again. I don’t know why we can’t re-use the ones from last time, but they’re both adamant it has to be different.”