He raised his hands in defense, taking a few steps backward. “All I’m saying is that you’ve seen me at work. It’s only fair that I get to see you atwork.” He winked before sauntering over to a group of men with similar builds who could have only been a collection of his fellow Bobcats.
That bundle of nerves I’d stuffed away earlier sparked back to life with a vengeance. Zane was supposed to get glimpses of me in small, digestible doses. Would he be able to handle my transformation from a flirty vixen in a form-fitting gown to the queen of all book nerds? Because, make no mistake, there was a reason I’d been given the coveted position of event coordinator at work.
Nobody understood what a geeked-out, book-crazed, manic reader wanted better than me—because that was who I was.Thatwas my superpower when it came to creating top notch book events that kept our customers coming back for more.
My-oh-my was that ever a far cry from the persona I’d taken on this weekend. My reading glasses hadn’t rested on the top of my head indays, I’d left my planner at home, and I hadn’t quoted a single line from a book since my arrival.
Zane being seen at work was nothing at all like me being seen at work. Zane made slapshots. I made endcaps tidy. He body-slammed men into the side of the arena when they asked for it. I handed out book recommendations. His job was full of fast-paced glamor and excitement. Mine was the exact opposite.
Easing Zane into getting to know the real me was supposed to be an experience like a fine cheese tasting—slow and deliberate. Instead, it was about to become something that had more in common with a pass/fail exam. What if he saw my color-coded planner, complete with my mile-long list of books I planned to read, and bolted?
Uncle Bob’s voice boomed nearby, talking to a small crowd that had gathered around him. “The West Coast team is the play. The kid has real potential. He’d be nuts to pass up an almostguaranteed ride to the cup. No way will I let him become some second-string bench warmer.”
What was he, Zane’s agent?
As annoying as Uncle Bob’s know-it-all attitude was, he wasn’t wrong. My heart sank. The west coast was a long way off, and I wasn’t the kind of person who could do long-distance relationships.
Uncle Bob’s words were like a rain shower in October—cold and dreary. And they made me feel absolutely miserable.
Was Zane really considering the lesser position because it would be closer to me? I knew next to nothing about hockey, but I did know one thing.
I couldn’t hold Zane back like that.
He deserved better.
SEVEN
Lit by stringed lights, a bonfire, and the stars above, the reception showed no signs of winding down long after the sun had set. I huddled in a quiet place near the fire, thankful for Percy’s warmth as he lay across my feet. I’d snuck out to my car hours ago, looking for something to put on over my flimsy dress to keep the cold out. Zane’s gameday jersey was the only thing I found.
Though the fabric was thick and did the job, I didn’t exactly look like a fashionista wearing a hockey jersey over afull-length gown. But the theme of the day was to be myself, right? Truth be told, I was more well-known for my color-coded sticky notes back home than for my fashion sense.
It was official. Vacation Wren was fading, her wild spark dimming as Bookstore Wren began to claim her rightful place at the top of the food chain. Come Monday, I’d be neck deep in my quiet life, far away from this fairy-tale weekend.
Could a huge figure like Zane fit into my little world?
The lives we lived seemed a universe apart. His world was all spotlights and slapshots. Mine was about cozy reading corners and alphabetized bookshelves. My stomach twisted into a knot as I considered this latest hurdle. Was it even possible to blend two lives together that were so different? My head ached from all the over-thinking I’d been doing lately. I squeezed my eyes shut andfocused on the least complicated thing in my life—work.
My phone glowed as I typed a few last-minute ideas for the book signing I was coordinating. In two short weeks, one of the most celebrated romance authors of our time would grace my store. Everything had to be perfect for Daphne Rose Love. My icy fingers struggled to type fast enough to keep up with the ideas in my head.
Percy perked up, his tail wagging as he still lay on my feet. “Sorry, buddy, I’m fresh out of jerky.” I looked up and saw Zane’s silhouette against the bonfire, his voice warming me up more than the flames that highlighted his muscular frame. “How about a sausage from the buffet?” He tossed Percy a piece, and it disappeared down his throat a second later.
Zane took a seat beside me on the bench, offering me a plate with a slice of cake on it and a glass of punch. “Sorry it’s not a cupcake. Whatwas my sister thinking, ordering a four-tiered cake butnocupcakes?”
I tucked my phone away, smiling up at him. “I guess I’ll just have to rough it.” I took the piece of cake he offered. It looked delicious, but all I could think about was the way the flickering firelight showed off the perfect cut of Zane’s jawline. Every feature of his face looked like it’d been chiseled by one of the old masters. Not a hair on his head was out of place.
Was he even real?
There was a toughness to his exterior that I was sure helped him on the ice. But I could see the gentleness just beneath the surface, even if his opponents couldn’t. Every part of me wanted to get to knowthatversion of Zane better.
But was that even practical, given all the roadblocks we faced?
The music pumped onto the outdoor dance floor changed from a thrumming pulse to a slow ballad. The guests pairedoff, swaying to the rhythm, but I was content where I was.
Zane caught me looking. “You hiding out over here?” He nudged me with his shoulder. “Doesn’t seem like you.”
“Unfortunately, it’s exactly like me.” I sighed. “I’ve got a confession, and you’re probably not going to like it.” My heart hammered against my ribs. “When I came here, I let loose and became a flirty vacation girl. But that’s not who I really am. I’m a boring bookworm at heart. I geek out over nineteenth-century literature, not hockey goals.”
I took a deep breath, fighting the next words to come out of my mouth. “We’ve had fun, but let’s be honest. You’re a celebrity; I’m a nobody. Now you have this amazing chance to join a winning team on the other side of the country. Our lives… they just don’t fit.”
