She took out her key and opened the door. Gabe stuck right by her when they entered.
“Well. Looks like the same mess we left.” She didn’t even feel despair at the wrecked space anymore. Just resignation.
“Let me check things out. Give me a minute.”
She waited for him, fingers knitted as she listened to his boots on the floor. He made a rotation through the aisles, then returned to her.
He touched her waist, and she automatically turned toward him. “I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
Looking up into his deep eyes, part of her hoped his idea involved the mystery section next.
“Why don’t you work on the books out front and I’ll clean up back here? I know it distresses you every time you enter.”
Her heart jogged in her chest. “You noticed that?”
He brushed a knuckle under her chin, tipping her face up to his. “I notice everything about you, bookshop.” His words skimmed across her lips a scant moment before he leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss wasn’t tender this time. It was heated from the instant their lips touched. She gasped out, her hand already moving on its own to his nape. She drew him closer while stretching on tiptoe.
His chest vibrated in response, and he angled his head, tongue teasing, seeking.
She moaned in answer, parting her lips for him. For a long minute, he explored her and she clung to him, her knees barely remembering how to support her.
When he slowed the kiss and brushed his nose across hers, she released a shuddering sigh.
“I could do that all day.” His gritty tone sent new sparks to her core.
“Me too.”
“But we wouldn’t get much done.”
She issued a small laugh. “That’s true.” Neither of them moved away, just stared into each other’s eyes.
Finally, she took a step toward the shop, and he gave her hand one more squeeze before letting her go.
At first, she picked through some of the books, reshelving a couple stacks they created earlier. Then she glanced at the counter. Maybe a quick restoration of that area would improve the look of the place.
She spent a good half hour putting things away in their rightful spots and cleaning up a plant that had been overturned. Then she opened a drawer and spotted her stationery.
She loved stationery and had a particular connection to creating wax seals. It was old-fashioned, yes, a practice people rarely used these days except on special occasions, but to her it felt natural.
Looking up at the door leading to the back of the shop where Gabe was busy cleaning up her mess, herlife, a thought struck. Gabe was a special man.
She drew out a sheet of thick, creamy paper and used her best pen to write him a little thank-you note. Then she looked through her stamps for the seal. She had plenty of styles. Ababy rattle from Layne’s baby shower card. Bells for weddings, balloons for celebrations.
Hearts.
Too personal.
A fleur de lis was a traditional stamp and very pretty, but it wasn’t really the message she was trying to send.
Finally, she selected her personal stamp—her initial with a floral wreath around it.
After folding the note and slipping it into the envelope, she lit the wick of her wax stick, letting the wax warm and then drip into a small puddle on the opening. She followed it up by pressing the stamp into the wax until it cooled.
How to give it to him? She didn’t want him to open it in front of her. Her heartfelt thanks would make her blush given how corny it probably sounded.
