Read Bounty for Free Online Page B

door, when every inch of me was aching for more.
    Why didn’t he ask to come up after our shooting and sushi date?
    The only logical explanation is that he’s just not that into me.
    And who would be? I look like a goddamn Weasley. Oh, and I cried all over him, was rude to him, probably too clingy, and then I told him all about my very recently ex fiancé . No wonder. I wouldn’t be into me. What a weird first date. I probably won’t see him again.
    So stupid and ironic — at first I wanted to scare Liam off, and he couldn’t be deterred. And then as soon as I decided I did like him, he wasn’t interested. I guess that’s how things go, though, right? Men want what they can’t have, and then as soon as they can have it, they aren’t interested anymore.
    Like Alan. Only in that case, I guess we both knew that it wasn’t work. Only difference was, I was stupid enough to try to make it work anyway. At least he had the brains to move on and start fucking someone else. Would have been nice if he’d broken off our engagement first, though.
    Men.
    I have to just put it out of my mind, concentrate on my work. And anyways, Dad will want me to get started on that big project. He “trusts my judgement.” Time to get cracking.
    A new concept starts to take shape in my head, a vague sensation slowly solidifying to an actual project idea. Not another driftwood piece. I want to hit up a vintage store, an antiques shop. Or maybe a consignment store or pawnshop. Maybe even the dump. Find something really wild. I’m not sure what, exactly, but I want it to look old. Not just old for cutesiness, but really old. Something someone loved, once, and had to part with. Or cast aside. Something made of wood, and glass, and metal. Something with a bit of function to it, with curving form.
    Nadine isn’t here yet, so really I should stay in the front of the boutique, but I really want to start planning and sketching. I’m just feeling motivated to get working. It’s always the best distraction from my problems.
    I text her to come in early, but get no reply.
    Fuck it. That’s what that stupid door chime is for anyway, right? Besides, it’s been a slow morning.
    I dive into my sketchbooks, my easel, start drawing out a few ideas, looking up stores that might have what I want.
    Finally, a loud dinging catches my attention. I sit up from my sketchbook, where a new idea is forming, and realize that I missed the door chime and someone is ringing the little bell that sits on the counter.
    Fuck. People could just come into my store and rob me with how oblivious I am. It’s probably just another fancy-pants banker-type man, looking for something with which to adorn his new penthouse or suburban castle.
    “Coming!” I shout. My hands are covered in charcoal from sketching, and I’ve got little rolled-up eraser bits flung all across my black shirt. Whoever’s on the sales floor is supposed to look professional, not like a total slob. So my dad says, anyway. Whatever.
    I tuck my charcoal pencil behind my ear and careen back into the front room, trying to suppress the rage that always bubbles up when my flow is interrupted. I can’t hate on my customers. They’re what keeps me able to create art, instead of working a nine-to-five. Being a receptionist somewhere, or an “analyst” of some type. So I put on my best, friendliest, most professional smile for whoever dinged my bell in the showroom.
    It’s Liam.
    Clean-shaven and wearing an actual button-down with dark jeans, rather than his usual tank and grungy denim. He cleans up fucking well. And he’s here. I thought… I didn’t think I’d see him again after that crazy-lady first date.
    And he’s holding a bird cage in the shape of a tree. It’s absolutely gorgeous. And obviously perfect for creating a completely unique timepiece. He has a real eye for this, and seems, somehow, to have seen and understood my aesthetic. It’s exactly what I like, the angles and color combinations