Sarah Mayberry - Within Reach

He shook his head again and she knew from his stubborn expression that there was no point pursuing the subject.

“Fine. Then tell me about work.”

“How about we talk about why you haven’t responded to my email about those rentals?”

Angie busied herself wiping the counter again. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up the matter of her finding a new studio. For a number of reasons.

“Didn’t I? Sorry. I’ve been so busy, getting things on track…” When she risked a glance at him, his gaze was knowing.

“Did you follow up on any of those leads?”

“I checked a couple of them out on the internet.”

“And?”

She shuffled her feet, feeling for all the world like a kid who’d been called to the principal’s office. “One of them was too big. The other one was too far from the city.”

“Did you speak to any of the agents, tell them what you’re looking for?”

“I’m on it. Relax.”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no.’”

She took a big gulp of wine, not liking the disapproving way he was eyeing her. It was a little disconcerting to realize how much his good opinion meant to her.

“Good studios are hard to find. I need the right size, the right price…” She could hear how lame she sounded. She put her wineglass down. “The thing is, I’ve been at the Stradbroke for eight years.” She spread her hands to indicate how entrenched she felt, how much inertia she had to overcome before she could pack up her workspace and rebuild it again somewhere else. “It’s my second home.”

“I get that, but that place is a disaster waiting to happen, Angie. God knows what you’re breathing in every day. As for those bathrooms… And don’t even get me started on the lack of security.”

“Yeah. I know. I need to move.” The knowledge had been crystalizing inside her as she’d scrambled to restore her workspace, stripping paint off her tools and replacing locks and furniture.

“Can I at least keep looking for you?”

“You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Not so much that I can’t look out for a friend.” His gaze was warm with affection. Something equally warm unfolded in her chest.

“Let me talk to those agents first,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I need to call in the cavalry.”

He picked up his glass and tilted it toward her. “Deal.”

Her mouth twisted wryly as she lifted hers and clinked the rim against his, aware that he’d effectively gotten her to commit to moving.

“You’re a hard man to resist.”

“The word you’re looking for is persuasive.”

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