Brooke: When are you seeing him next?
Annette: I'm not sure. He got a call and had to go check on something near the Nevilles' inn.
Brooke: That place is fucking haunted.
Annette: No disagreement here.
Brooke: You didn't articulate next steps? Didn't establish expectations going forward? He just zipped up and zipped out?
Annette: I could barely speak when he kissed me goodbye. I was in no condition to formulate action plans.
Brooke: He really knows what he's doing, huh?
Annette: My head is fizzy like sparkling water, my chin is still trembling, and I can't feel my lips. Aside from sex in the storeroom, he brought me cold brew and chocolate old-fashioneds and said really sweet things. I almost told him I loved him.
Brooke: I wouldn't blame you. I love him for you.
Confidence was a tricky thing.
For years, I'd believed my big aspirations for my tiny bookstore were within reach if I worked hard enough. If I did the right things and put in the time, people would come. Even when I only sold a handful of books each day, I kept on believing my work would pay off.
That confidence moved me forward when I was barely covering my expenses and my family wanted me to give it up for a reliable income. It pushed me out of my disappointment when I couldn't snag big-name authors for an in-store visit during their book publicity tours. It picked me up when I couldn't convince the locals to join a book club unless I was offering free food and wine.
And it was that confidence that had me nodding in smug agreement when I woke up this morning to find my sweet little shop listed as one of the best independent bookstores in the country.
The country.
At first I thought it saidcountyand that seemed plausible. But then I noticed the next bookstore on the list was in Culver City, California and realized this list had nothing to do with my county. Repeated mention of works by local artists, photographers, and diverse authors I stocked here had me thinking back to Cole, Owen's deckhand boyfriend. He'd gushed about one of my Maine photography books. Bought several copies, too. With his fancy black card, the kind reserved for professional athletes and movie stars and other special people. When I followed the article's threads back to the beginning, I discovered it was first posted on a small site two weeks ago. Only days after Owen, Cole, and all the vodka in the Cove.
But I shook that coincidence off. The shop was inundated with customers today and I wanted to focus on that rather than the strange sequence of events leading to my shop being full. People came from Bar Harbor, Kittery, even Portsmouth, all touting the online article that was now trending on all the local news sites.
My shop had never seen traffic like this. I had to call in my part-time sales clerks, Jane and Yosefina, just to keep up with the mad rush. I barely had a minute to pee but I found a few moments to wonder whether Jackson was watching me from his office. I hoped he was watching. I hoped he was still thinking about me and us and yesterday morning. I wanted it even when wanting scared the shit out of me.
That confidence, it sure was tricky.
Around noon, I took a call from someone at an internet company wanting to help me develop an online storefront. I'd never considered such a thing. It came at the perfect time, since I'd spent the morning juggling customers in-store and fielding calls requesting many of the local books and gifts I stocked here.
By four o'clock, the Portland newspaper had called to schedule an interview. They were working on a series about female-run businesses and wanted to come up to Talbott's Cove to visit.
Shortly before closing time, Jackson appeared in my shop, his height and heft sucking up the oxygen around him. My gaze scraped over the long lines of his body without conscious thought. He was dressed in sheriff's garb today. I couldn't decide which look I preferred, the suit or the uniform. He seemed more comfortable in suits but more authoritative in the uniform.
As I watched him scanning the shop, his gaze passing over each customer before landing on me with an easy smile, I realized I craved both his comfort and his authority. Even when I didn't know what to believe or where to stow my trust, Jackson wrapped me up in his steady strength. I liked that. I didn't understand it or know the right way to embrace it, but I liked it.
He lifted his fingers to his head, tipping an invisible hat toward me. "What's going on here?" he mouthed from across the room.
I held up my hands and let them fall to the counter. When I registered a pinch in my cheeks, I realized I was grinning at him like a madwoman.
I was roused from my staring contest when a customer bustled up to the counter with a pile of books the length of her arm. "Do you have the next book in this series?" she asked, holding a paperback up. "I couldn't find it but I wasn't sure if you had a special supply in the back."
"I can check. Give me a minute." I caught Jackson's eye over her head. He winked, as if he knew I was thinking about yesterday morning. I was never looking at my grandmother's old kitchen table the same way again.
Once I was alone in the storeroom, I pressed my hand to my chest and surrendered to shuddering breaths. Of all the things that had happened today, it took Sheriff Lau tossing a wink in my direction to get my heart hammering against my ribs and my lungs begging for oxygen. Not to mention the heat between my legs and the ever-present urge to drop my drawers. I stood there a moment, cataloging my body's reaction to this man.
A hat tip, a smile, a wink. That was all it took.
After collecting a few books, I returned to the counter and finished the sale. Jackson was tucked into the nonfiction corner with a new political hardcover. I watched him while he flipped through the book, stopping every few pages to skim the text. And I wasn't the only one watching him. Nearly every customer shot glances in his direction, taking in his broad shoulders and the height that forced everyone to crane their necks.
I signaled for Yosefina to take over the sales counter and then made my way to Jackson. When I reached his side, I tapped the book cover. "Getting between some new pages?"
