Page 72 of Big Dill

“Darts,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Sure, I feel a pang of guilt that he thinks he has a chance with Jami. But more than that, I feel possessive, and I’m having a hell of a time hiding it. Truth is, Jami can be with any guy she wants. We are not hooking up anymore. We both agreed to it, and I’m a man of my word. I have to be. Honestly this can’t go anywhere. Neither of us are looking for anything more, so why risk my friendship and business relationship with Jaxon? “She agreed to be my partner for the doubles tournament this weekend,” I add quickly, keeping my tone casual, like I’m explaining nothing out of the ordinary.

Liam’s brows knit, his gaze darting between the two of us. “Are you two⁠—”

“No,” we both say at the exact same time, her voice light, mine slightly defensive.

I step a fraction away from Jami, making it clear without words that we’re not a thing. “She’s my best friend and business partner’s sister,” I say, forcing casual, “I’m just trying to introduce her to life in Churchill Falls. I want her to have all the experiences before she heads back to Nova Scotia. Which is what, in a couple of months, Jami?”

She nods and Liam blinks, accepting the explanation. “Okay…well, maybe I’ll meet you guys there.”

“Sounds good,” Jami says, her tone bright, but I catch the tension beneath it. She doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Oh, Jami,” Liam says, before turning to leave. “I heard you’re going to be designing a new line of clothes for the social. I can’t wait to see what you come up with, and if you need any help, let me know.”

“You design clothes?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles, a little sheepish. “No.” He holds his fingers out and mimics a medical stitch. At least I think that’s what he’s doing. “But I do a mean stitch, and I can always model if you need help with sizing.”

Jami laughs. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He waves his paddle over his shoulder. “All right, see you guys on the court.”

The door clicks shut behind him. I turn to Jami, and the silence between us is heavy with unspoken tension. “That was… awkward,” I mutter.

“I know your family means well,” she says, voice tight with frustration. “But now Liam thinks I’m interested. I’m going to have to talk to him, let him know I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Heartbreaker,” I tease, nudging her chin lightly.

She rolls her eyes, a faint smile sneaking through despite her exasperation. “I feel bad.”

“I’ll talk to Ma,” I say. “Tell her not to do this again.”

She leans against me, letting out a sigh that’s half relief, half affection. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“As long as she…”

She inches back. “As long as she what?”

“As long as she doesn’t think it’s because I want you for myself.”

“I’m sure she’s smarter than that. You just got out of a bad relationship too.”

She’s close—too close—and I’m half a second from dipping my head and sliding my lips over hers. Needing a distraction, I clear my throat, and I give her shoulder a light squeeze. “Okay… now, are you going to show me the fabric before your class starts?”

Her eyes light up like fireworks. “Yup!”

We step out of the room, and from the corner of my eye, I catch movement. My head snaps like a whip, but by the time I’ve fully turned, the image is gone—the door to the women’s changing room swings shut before my brain can catch up.

“You okay?” Jami asks, tilting her head, eyes curious.

I pause, blinking a few times, trying to convince myself I didn’t actually see what I thought I saw. “Yeah. I just thought I saw…” I shake my head, forcing the thought away. “Nope. Must be seeing things.” Elise is in Toronto, dating some actor, living her best life designing costumes. That…that was not her.

Jami doesn’t question me. She just tilts a brow and keeps moving. Then as if deep in her own thoughts, she mumbles, almost to herself, “I’m going to sew patches onto the clothes for now. But later, if things take off, I can switch to digital embroidery.”

“You want to try that again, but in English?” I tease, grinning, though a little part of me genuinely wants to understand the technical wizardry she just outlined.

She laughs, playfully whacking me on the arm as we enter her studio and walk into her back room. I glance at all the fabric laid out, rolls of solid colors, others with whimsical patterns that look fun.