Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

having her get married, just the religious stuff. I wonder if she knows where Jase is. That would be so weird if they both showed up out of nowhere. Anyhow," Spencer said, heading for the door, "I doubt Dad would still be out there by the time I showed up. And if he is, I'll just come home. 'Bye, Mom."

Jeanne couldn't do anything but let him go. He knew as well as she did that the rumors of what went on at the Big Brown Barn were just that. Rumors. Though somehow in Pit Stop, the end of the road where nothing else happened, rumors easily took on the guise of fact.

In this case, it was the gossip, the juice, the scintillating angle of polygamy and underage sex—even if the girls in Earnestine Township were consenting and legally wed. To think some allegedly went to Nevada Case, Esq., for help, an underground secretive help, especially when Neva denied any such thing happening, was too juicy not to slurp up.

Jeanne wasn't buying it.

She knew Neva better than many, and didn't believe it of her one and only friend. Neither did she believe Neva would keep her out of such a critical loop. Not when |eanne felt she had so little in her life to look forward to, that she might as well drop off the face of the earth.

Candy Roman pushed the safety goggles from her face to the top of her head and swiped her forearm over her brow.

She only minded perspiring while she worked when sweat started running into her eyes, salting up her contacts, stinging and burning until she had to stop work completely, clean the lenses, and let her eyes rest.

She hated stopping work for something so lame as forgetting to wipe away sweat. In fact, she hated stopping at all, even to sleep. The website and catalogue for the Big Brown Barn already listed an expected shipping date of four to six weeks on her most popular jewelry designs.

She did all that she could to cut that to three. Waiting longer than three weeks for anything she'd ordered made her crazy. Receiving items unexpectedly early had her jumping for joy. She figured most of her customers fit the same profile, and so she balanced her workload accordingly.

When there were girls in residence, she kept them busy with straightforward assembly. Beads on filament. Fasteners attached. Tiny crystals sorted into bins by color and clarity. The more intricate pieces she constructed herself, but lately she had been doing it all. The sorting, the assembly, the finishing work.

Neva pitched in when she had time, of course, but the tech side of the business was her baby, dealing with the site's programmers and designers, not to mention sharing the duties of supply and inventory, the catalogue layout and printing, the packing and shipping, the accounting. Then there was her law practice, which these days was run more on the side.

How either of them managed to do all they did .. . Candy blew her bangs off her forehead, twisted side to side on her stool, and stretched her arms to the sky. That was just the way it was. And the way they were. Keeping busy seemed to be how most people managed to stay a step ahead of their demons.

She had enough to keep her running for the rest of her life.

Leaving the goggles on the worktable and shutting down the grinder, Candy made her way to the studio's door for a stretch and a breath of fresh air. The first floor, which had once been home to tack and animals, now served her well both as her design and living space.

The front half was divided between her studio and the shipping center, with a walled-off and seldom visited showroom where her best pieces were displayed. The rear half had been remodeled into an efficiency that more closely resembled a converted warehouse than an apartment—one she would never have been able to afford, much less outfit, in the city. At least not with the life she used to lead.

But thanks to Neva, going back to where she'd come from was a problem Candy wasn't going to have to face. Even if down the road they split their partnership to go separate ways, to pursue their own things, to have lives without holding one another's hands, her resume was now physical and solid instead of being one or two lines about K-Mart, McDonald's, and J.C. Penney.

Of course, wearing herself out was not going to do her health or creativity any damn bit of good. And though she knew Neva's big heart was in the right place, what with giving the girl a job and Candy an assistant, Liberty Mitchell wasn't working out and really had to go.

Her nails this, her hair that. Her shoes, her jewelry, her lumpy bed, and minimum wage. The girl could not do any sort of honest day's work without mouthing, and quite frankly, Candy wasn't even sure about the honest part figuring in. She hadn't caught the girl lying or stealing, but she plain didn't trust the little brat. And she couldn't even say for sure why.

Climbing up to sit on one of the picnic tables on the patio at the side of the Barn, she braced her boots on the bench, her elbows on her knees, and her chin in the cup of her palms. A short break, a few minutes max, and she'd get back to work.

When at least fifteen later a pair of big male hands came from behind to cover her eyes and wake her up, her gasp was more about pleasure than surprise. "Ooh, your daddy is going to kill you if he finds you here."

"My daddy can go shoot himself in the foot," Spencer Munroe said, pulling her backwards and dropping a yummy upside-down kiss on her lips. "He doesn't have any say in what I do any longer."

He smelled like clean skin and warm sun and the