and toothpaste tubes that are rolled up from the bottom.â
âI hardly see what that has to do with this discussion.â
âIt has
everything
to do with this discussion,â she flared back. âYou donât see anything unless itâs listed in neat columns and balanced. And Iâll tell you something else,â she continued when he would have spoken. âIâm going to have my shop, and even if it doesnât make me a fortune, itâs going to be fun.â
âFun?â Cy shook his head hopelessly. âThatâs a poor basis for starting a business.â
âItâs mine,â she retorted. âI donât need a six-digit income to be happy.â
He gave her a small, deprecating smile. âYou havenât changed.â
Flinging open the door, Shane glared at him. âGo sell a house,â she suggested. With a dignity she envied and despised, Cy walked through the door. She slammed it after him, then gave in to temper and slammed her hand against the wall.
â
Damn!
â Putting her wounded knuckles to her mouth, she whirled. It was then she spotted Vance at the foot of the stairs. His face was still and serious as their eyes met. With angry embarrassment, Shaneâs cheeks flamed. âEnjoy the show?â she demanded, then stormed back to the kitchen.
She gave vent to her frustration by banging through the cupboards. She didnât hear Vance follow her. When he touched her shoulder, she spun around, ready to rage.
âLet me see your hand,â he said quietly. Ignoring her jerk of protest, he took it in both of his.
âItâs nothing.â
Gently, he flexed it, then pressed down on her knuckles with his fingers. Involuntarily, she caught her breath at the quick pain. âYou didnât manage to break it,â he murmured, âbut youâll have a bruise.â He was forced to control a sudden rage that she had damaged that small, soft hand.
âJust donât say anything,â she ordered through gritted teeth. âIâm not stupid. I
know
when Iâve made a fool of myself.â
He took a moment to bend and straighten her fingers again. âI apologize,â he said. âI should have let you know I was there.â
After letting out a deep breath, Shane drew her hand from his slackened hold. The light throbbing gave her a perverse pleasure. âIt doesnât matter,â she muttered as she turned to make tea.
He frowned at her averted face. âI donât enjoy embarrassing you.â
âIf you live here for any amount of time, youâll hear about Cy and me anyway.â She tried to make a casual shrug, but the quick jerkiness of the movement showed only more agitation. âThis way you just got the picture quicker.â
But he didnât have the full picture. Vance realized, with some discomfort, that he wanted to know. Before he could speak, Shane slammed the lid onto the kettle.
âHe always makes me feel like a fool!â
âWhy?â
âHe always dots his iâs and crosses his tâs.â With an angry tug, she pulled open a cabinet. âHe carries an umbrella in the trunk of his car,â she said wrathfully.
âThat should do it,â Vance murmured, watching her quick, jerky movements.
âHe never, never,
never
makes a mistake. Heâs always reasonable,â she added witheringly as she slammed two cups down on the counter. âDid he shout at me just now?â she demanded as she whirled on Vance. âDid he swear or lose his temper? He doesnât
have
a temper!â she shouted in frustration. âI swear, the man doesnât even sweat.â
âDid you love him?â
For a moment, Shane merely stared; then she let out a small broken sigh. âYes. Yes, I really did. I was sixteen when we started dating.â As she went to the refrigerator, Vance turned the gas on under the kettle, which she had forgotten