Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“I can help. Seriously, I don’t have any other plans today. I can label jars and place wicks or whatever.”
She eyes me for a moment, chewing on her turkey sandwich, and then nods.
“I’ll happily put you to work, and I’ll even loan you an apron.”
I eye her as I chew my own sandwich. “You’re not wearing an apron.”
“I took it off a minute ago when I went to the restroom. Trust me, the wax can splash. The apron will save your clothes and a potential burn.”
“You’ve sold me on the apron. Will it be pink and frilly?”
“Sorry, the only one I have is red.” She laughs as she finishes half her sub, then wraps the other half and stows it in the fridge for later. She offers me a soda, and we’re comfortably quiet as we finish our lunch.
When my sandwich is gone, I toss the wrapper away and follow her into her guest bedroom.
“Whoa.”
The room isn’t set up for guests. Instead, she has big tables against three of the walls. A large cabinet dominates the wall with the door, and above the tables are shelves for more storage. There are even cabinets and totes under the tables for additional storage space.
I see some big slow-cooker-looking things with spigots on the front on one end. And dozens of jars set on the tables, some full, others waiting to be filled.
“Whoa,” I say again, and Cherry grins back at me.
“Yeah, this is the craft room. This is where I daydream and create pretty things.”
“What else do you make besides candles?”
She adds some white flakes to the slow cooker, which I assume is wax.
“I do wax melts, room sprays, shower sprays, bath bombs, salves. You name it, I can probably make it.”
“So, which one is your passion?”
She frowns over at me and blows a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. I cross to her to hook that strand behind her ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I asked. Is the crafting or the teaching what you’re passionate about?”
“Oh, the crafts for sure.” She gets back to work, pulling supplies out of drawers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the kids. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, it’s a slog to get through the day, but all in all, it’s not bad. But this? My online store? That’s what I really love to do. I like coming up with new things, new scents, learning about how different oils work together for healing. I think it’s fascinating and a lot of fun. The store does pretty well, but it would probably do better if I could devote more time to it.”
“Why don’t you?”
She smirks, shaking her head. “Because going into business for yourself full time is a gamble that I can’t afford to take. If it fails, I’m fucked. I don’t come from a wealthy family that can bail me out if something goes wrong. It’s just me, and the thought of being even more strapped than I already am is not something I want to ever happen. It just can’t.”
“But it could also do amazing,” I insist. “Sure, it could fail, but the chances are just as good, or better, that you could not only make a good living but excel at it. You could sell your products locally, in stores.”
“You sound like Montana,” she says with a chuckle. “She’s always saying the same thing. ‘Sell at farmer’s markets, consign at some of the shops.’”
“I don’t think that sounds like a bad idea at all.”
“It’s too iffy.” She blows out a breath. “I need stability in my life, and working for someone else, for a set number of hours, knowing how much my paychecks will be, that’s stability.”
“But do you love it?”
“I love the assurance that I’m not broke.” She turns to me with the apron. “Now, let’s change the subject. Here’s your apron.”
“Will you tie it on?”
She grins and crosses to me, slipping the loop over my head before reaching around to tie the strings in the back. Her eyes are on mine as her breasts press to my belly, and I feel my blood get hot.
“I don’t have time for any shenanigans,” she warns me.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. You don’t have a poker face either.”
Cherry smirks and then turns to the business at hand.
“Okay, this will be a twenty-jar batch. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Just tell me what to do.”
She’s an excellent teacher. Patient and ready to explain everything, step by step, as we move through all twenty jars.
I’m surprised by how complicated the process is.
“You know, I’ve never given much thought to how candles are made. It’s not easy.”
“Eh, it’s not hard. You just need to have the math down.”
“Yeah, I don’t do math.”
“Sure, you do. You work on cars.”
“That’s not math.”
“It’s a lot of math, you just don’t know it.” She grins over at me, and I want to kiss her.