He had mentioned an exhibition during that first meeting, but he hadn’t elaborated and Portia had been too busy imagining her humiliating return home.

“Well, did you invite her?” Cheryl asked archly.

Tav chuckled ruefully. “Why would I do that? So she could barrel into the middle of a match and attack someone again?”

Kevyn laughed, too, shaking his head as he took a seat at one of the tables. “Because she bloody works here?”

The tension that had started to release its grip on her back and shoulders readjusted and dug its claws in even deeper. Getting talked down to by your father over the phone was one thing, but being humiliated by your boss in front of people you barely knew was quite another.

“And because I run your social media and need to promote special events, like a public exhibition,” she added, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. She was a grown ass woman, and even when she didn’t feel like one she still had to keep up appearances. “And because I could help out.”

Tav sighed and rolled his neck. “I don’t have time to manage the exhibition matches, answer questions, handle sales, and watch over you.”

She didn’t think he was trying to be mean, but it was like he instinctively knew she was the kind of woman always teetering on the edge of disaster. As if he could tell that fucking up came naturally to her.

“I know you don’t have a serious bone in your body, but . . .”

Tav glanced at her and his expression changed. Softened just a little bit. “What’re you looking at me like that for? I simply don’t have time to mess about.”

“Tavish,” Cheryl said, her voice low with warning. “You’re being a wanker.”

“No. He’s right,” Portia cut in before he could respond. She wasn’t sure how she managed to keep the waver out of her voice, but she could be proud of at least one thing. It was likely smoothed over by the flash of anger that currently had her in its thrall. “If Tavish is incapable of explaining basic things to his apprentice, it’s probably best that I don’t go.”

“Wait a minute—”

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve streamlined the databases and reorganized the shipping process to save money over the past week because I’m apparently too silly to bother teaching swordmaking to. It’s not like I upended my life to move to a strange country, expressly to learn a new skill, only to be told I’m not capable of handling something that a child running a lemonade stand is entrusted with. So yeah, maybe it’s best I don’t go to the exhibition. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

Her eyes were glossy with unprofessional tears and she wanted more than anything to disappear, or perhaps get carried away by a passing flock of birds. She felt ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She’d traveled thousands of miles just to be reminded that at the end of the day, Portia Hobbs wasn’t the kind of person you counted on—a lesson she’d learned well enough in the US of A.

Cheryl and Kevyn were silent—the oh shit this is awkward do we stick around or make ourselves scarce kind of silent. Tavish sighed and dropped into the seat beside Kevyn.

She was ready to go inside and pack her bags. If she stayed, he might see her cry, and she’d been humiliated enough for one day. She had a job waiting for her in New York after all, not that she would embarrass herself any less at that one.

“Come here, Freckles.” He looked up at her. “Please.”

She walked over stiffly and sat down across from him, not meeting his gaze.

“The problem is . . .”

She braced herself. She should stop him. She knew her own faults better than anyone and didn’t need to hear them listed out.

“. . . that I’m a bit of an arse. Grumpy. Stubborn. Recalcitrant—I’m sure you’ve got a thesaurus on your electronic hingmie.”

“What?” Portia asked. She had been so ready to be told about her faults that she had no response to Tav listing off his own.

He folded his hands together and spoke to her like he was taking her concerns seriously, something she hadn’t been expecting at all. “I’m used to working with my family, and my family is used to said arseyness.”

Cheryl had gone inside the food stand to continue setting up for lunch, but she made a sound of annoyance at that. “That’s no excuse! You’re supposed to treat your family with kindness, you muppet.”

Tav shot her a look, then turned his attention back to Portia. His expression was . . . contrite?

“I’m not suddenly going to be puking rainbows and hearts, but you’re right. I haven’t been a good boss. I pushed everything off onto Jamie and then left you to figure out the rest. If my master had done that during my apprenticeship, none of us would be here right now because I wouldn’t have become a swordmaker.”

“Are you apologizing?” Kevyn asked incredulously. He turned to Portia. “Did you hit him in the head when you maced him the other day, love?”

“I’m not apologizing. I’m saying that my behavior has been shit and I’ll try to do better.” His gaze was on Portia and even though he was frowning, she could see the slightest hint of vulnerability.

Fuck. No! Unfortunately, it seemed that “gruff but vulnerable” was a trait she could really appreciate in a man. She ignored the way her breath caught and reminded herself that gruff was a synonym for “acts like an asshole because other people enable him.”