Page 72 of Singled Out

“It’s okay. I can do it later tonight.”

“Unless we pour too much wine down your throat. Then you won’t want to do it later. I don’t mind helping.”

“Seriously?”

“Show me these candles, please.” I took a sip of my wine and set the glass on a shelf so I wouldn’t spill on her work. The smaller dog was curled up in a doggy bed in the corner. Roscoe sat on semi-alert outside the open door.

Cambria picked up one of the molds and popped out a dark green pine-tree-shaped candle with a wick sticking out the top. She trimmed the wick and showed me what she looked for as far as flaws. This one passed the quality check, so she added a sticker to the bottom and demonstrated how to wrap it and tie a ribbon and tag around the cellophane. Next, she unveiled a squirrel-shaped candle and repeated the process.

We had twenty candles done, nearly half the order, when Roscoe barked as Dakota drove by. I texted her to come to the barn.

“Hey, girlfriends,” Dakota said a couple of minutes later when she appeared in the open doorway, Roscoe at her side, apparently having decided she was friend instead of foe.

“Hey, you,” I said. “You’re early.”

“Seth let me go because we were slow this afternoon. Tourist season is winding down.”

“Harper brought wine,” Cambria said. “We were prepping an order I need to ship out, but we can stop and get down to business.”

“Ooh, these trees are super cute,” Dakota said. “What are we doing? I can help.”

“Thirty to go,” I told her. I was starting to get the hang of tying the ribbon just right.

Cambria poured wine for Dakota, and I explained the steps I’d learned earlier. We worked for another hour or so, chatting as we did.

“Guess who sat at the bar during my shift today,” Dakota said as she unveiled another tree.

“The pope?” I said, focused on getting the ribbon just right.

“Naomi’s brother.”

“Ian?” My roommate had been in and out, but we hadn’t talked much. He kept to himself and spent a lot of time outside, taking inventory of the property, I guessed.

“The one and only,” Dakota replied. “You made him sound like an ogre that first night he showed up. You failed to mention he looked like that.”

“He seemed like an ogre when he was drunk,” I said. “So you talked to him?”

“I did. I tried to convince him not to sell.”

I’d told everyone who’d shown up at the studio Tuesday about Ian and his plans. Though not a surprise, the news didn’t go over well.

“A lot of people depend on the studio,” I explained to Cambria. “Dakota more than most.”

“Naomi’s kilns are good ones. I can’t exactly put one in an apartment,” Dakota said, “even if I could afford one.”

“You know, you could probably make your candles there too,” I said. “Have you been there before?”

Cambria shook her head. “I’ve always meant to check it out, but I never needed it until now. I’ve been spoiled having a workspace in my backyard.”

“What did Ian say?” I asked Dakota. “Did you convince him?”

She shrugged with a little laugh. “I got him thinking about it.”

My brows shot up. “How’d you manage that? The one time I brought it up, he didn’t really listen, just insisted he wasn’t sticking around.”

“I’ve got some feminine wiles.” Dakota’s smile went smug, but she kept her eyes on her task.

“So you flirted, and grumpy Ian is moving to Dragonfly Lake now?” I teased.