“I see that.”
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought you…options.” His stare snapped to hers, creating a thrum of awareness that hovered between them. The last time he was this close to her, he was lowering his lips to her forehead. He could still feel the smoothness of her skin and smell her shampoo.
It only made him want to taste her plump lips.
“Thank you, Gabe.”
He dipped his head in an awkward nod. Slowly, she sank to the floor in front of the stool and surveyed the fare.
“Ooh, is that an apple cinnamon muffin?”
“Best ever. Had one myself this morning.” He watched her closely, taking note of what she reached for first. It was the coffee. Luckily, he was smart enough to add cream and sugar packets to the tray. She dumped in a little of both and used the spoon to stir it.
When she took a sip, he had to tear his stare away from her lips on the rim.
Even if he hadn’t been alone so long, he’d still be drawn to Felicity. The woman was special.
“Tell me why you never opened the boxes.” He sank to the floor across from her, back resting against the sofa. She’d tided up, folding the blankets and sheets at one corner.
“I received them before I realized how much trouble the shop was in. I thought people would travel the extra distance toWillowbrook and the closed exit wouldn’t matter much. But it did. After I crunched numbers and saw how bad things were, I realized even if I added the books I didn’t want for my collection to the inventory, no one would come in to buy them.” She gave a little shrug. “It was a little depressing.”
The words dropped heavy in his chest. Hearing her admit it—and the way her voice frayed on “depressing”—lit a torch inside him.
She took a breath, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you’re here for this. You can keep me accountable for finally going through the boxes.”
“I can do that.” His voice came out rougher than intended.
She picked up a fork and looked over the tray. “You weren’t kidding about options.”
“Figured it was safer to bring everything. You can pick and choose.”
“It’s very kind of you.”
A kernel of pleasure unfurled in his chest.
She stabbed a piece of sausage and closed her lips around it. He watched her chew, watched the way her throat worked as she swallowed. He dragged his gaze away and fixed it on the boxes again. Several stickers were plastered to them, declaring they were heavy.
For a few minutes, neither spoke. She tried a little of everything, making appreciative noises under her breath when she hit the hashbrowns. Each small sound permeated his head and filed itself away in an important place.
When she’d eaten enough that some color had returned to her cheeks, she wiped her lips on a napkin. “I didn’t just run off and open the bookstore one day, you know.”
Her statement surprised him. “I can’t imagine it’s a business you just throw together.”
Her lips quirked at each corner in the slightest smile, and he found himself filling his lungs too much.
“I planned for a long time with my financial advisor. We went over my savings, projections and inventory turnover.” She huffed a breath. “What we didn’t plan for was the exit closing for construction.”
“You did everything right, Felicity. Sometimes life doesn’t follow the rules.”
She tipped her head, contemplating him for a long moment. “You’re right. My binders full of projections and spreadsheets of best-and-worst-case scenarios did not follow the rules.”
“But you made it work before the construction happened.”
She nodded. “I knew it wouldn’t make me rich, but all I wanted was enough to pay the bills and let me live in this little world of stories and paper and ink.” Her mouth curved, soft and so sad that he inched closer to her before he realized what he was doing.
“Tell me more.”
“I had kids’ story hours. Crafts with Honor as a guest where we’d make dragons or paper crowns. A middle grade book club that the local teachers endorsed. A paranormal romance club that met once a month and argued passionately about vampires versus shifters.”
