Runaway (Wolfes of Manhattan 3)

Smithing was my passion, though it wasn’t my main source of income. I did odd jobs, and my rental brought in a nice cushion as well. I’d grown accustomed to living basically. Walden by Henry David Thoreau had become my bible. I tried to spend as much time as I could outdoors and not get bogged down by the small stuff. I had a place to sleep, food in my belly, and a love of life.

My shop was ultimately me.

And I wanted to show it to Riley.

I pulled into the alley behind my little shop.

“I thought you were taking me back to the cabin,” Riley said.

“I am, but we’re making a detour. I want to show you something.”

“Okay.”

We got out of the truck and went into the shop via the back door. The kid I’d hired for the summer, Blue—yes, that was actually her name—sat behind the counter texting on her phone. She blew a huge pink bubble and let it pop over her lips.

“Afternoon, Blue. How’s business today?”

“Hi, Matt. Not bad. Slow now, but people are still having lunch. I sold two pendants, four pairs of earrings, and a bolo tie this morning.”

Earrings were always my biggest seller. “Nice. This is Riley.”

“Hey.” Blue cracked her gum.

“Hi,” Riley said.

“This is my shop,” I told her.

She widened her eyes. “Your shop?”

“Did I not tell you I work with silver?”

“You did. I guess I just never realized you actually sold it.” Riley swept her hand over the glass encasing the finer jewelry. “This is beautiful work, Matt.”

“I’m glad you like it. Pick one. Anything, and it’s yours.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Sure you can.”

She zeroed in on a heart pendant with a pink sapphire accent on either side. “You made this?”

“Guilty.”

“I can’t believe it. That’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen at Tiffany’s.”

Tiffany’s? How many business ed teachers were familiar with the fine jewelry at Tiffany’s?

Riley Mansfield, what the hell are you hiding?

“It’s yours,” I said.

“How much is it?”

None of my finer pieces had price tags. Well, they did, but I made sure they weren’t visible in the display case. That way, a person had to ask, and Blue would get it out and look at the price tag. Once the customer held the item, they almost always bought it.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said.

“It does to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to pay you for it. That’s why.”

“But I don’t want you to pay for it.”

Blue unlocked the case from behind the counter and pulled out the piece. “It is gorgeous,” she said. “I had a customer look at it this morning but—” Her cheeks reddened.

“It’s okay, Blue,” I said. “It’s an expensive piece. I’m glad the customer didn’t buy it, because it’s perfect for Riley. Has her name right on it.”

Riley blushed adorably. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Well, not yet, but I’ll engrave it and then it will.”

“May I look at it?”

I took the piece from Blue, hastily whisked off the tiny price tag, and handed it to Riley.

She fingered the delicate silver chain. “It’s so lovely. I could almost swear it was white gold.”

“It’s rhodium-plated sterling. That’s what I use for all my fine pieces. It resists tarnishing, which is why it resembles white gold. Not quite as sparkly, but a good substitute.”

“I can’t accept it.” She handed it back to me. “We hardly know each other.”

She was right. It was a generous gift, and we’d only known each other for two days. I gave it to Blue. “Put this in the back.”

She nodded, placed the piece in a cotton-lined box, and went into the back where she presumably locked it in the safe.

Riley smiled. “You’re keeping it for me?”

“Only until you leave. If you still won’t accept it then, I’ll put it back for sale.”

“You’re sweet.”

Was it odd that she hadn’t asked me what the price was?

Most women would have asked, especially if they’d offered to buy it, which she had.

But then…most women weren’t familiar with the expensive pieces at Tiffany’s. Most women didn’t drink real Champagne from France.

Most women weren’t Riley Mansfield.

Money didn’t seem to be an issue for Riley. Yes, she’d said her parents had money…

Still, something wasn’t adding up.

I was determined.

I’d solve the equation of Riley Mansfield.

And I’d do it in the next several days.13RileyI’d wanted to accept the pendant.

I’d really wanted to accept it.

But I couldn’t.

As much as I wished I were a normal woman who might be able to have a normal relationship with a wonderful man like Matteo Rossi…I wasn’t.

I never would be.

Taking the beautiful piece wouldn’t have been fair to Matt. I’d certainly be willing to buy it. In fact, I’d wanted to.

It would be a beautiful souvenir of my week here in Sumter Falls, Montana.

“Is everything here one of a kind?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” Matt said. “Sometimes someone will ask me to duplicate a piece, and I will, but I always make it just a tiny bit different. Even if I’m the only one who knows.”