He grinned. “I forgot you like a little mystery with your holidays.”
“I do.” I paused for a moment, hung up on his words. “How did you know that?” We’d had a lot of conversations since my arrival, a few about books, but I hadn’t said anything about mysteries. At least not as far as I could recall.
Davis sobered. “You must’ve mentioned it.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. Then I thought of another possibility. A very chatty connection between us. “But I have told Historically_Bookish.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “What do you mean?”
“Grace.” I grinned. “I just ran into a stranger who knew my name and where I’m staying, because she told him. I’m guessing she’s the one who told you about my winter reading habits.”
Davis looked away, probably considering my hypothesis.
“Don’t forgetWuthering Heights,” I said as I tapped a fingernail against the counter to regain his attention. “If you didn’t know, I read it every year when the snow begins to fall.”
Davis relaxed and turned a clipboard to face me. He’d already listed all the books I’d named. Along with the other titles forming a line in my mind.
“You’re good.” Or a mind reader.
Hopefully not the latter.
His lips twitched, fighting a mischievous smile. “I know.”
I laughed despite myself, and he chuckled in response.
Michael approached with a customer and a smile. “Hey, Ems!”
I waved as he rounded the corner, ducking behind the register to ring up the sale. He set a tablet beside Davis, then got to work.
“Thanks.” Davis lifted a hand to Michael.
“Sorry I ran off the other night,” Davis said a moment later, voice soft. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Which time?” I asked, still stinging from the way he’d left following our kiss. Still uncertain what had caused him to leave just as suddenly with Violet.
“Both. It’s been a strange—complicated—couple of weeks for me.”
A woman placed a stack of books on the counter in front of Davis. “Are you open?”
He nodded and moved away to handle the sale.
The tablet Michael had delivered caught my eye. A notification from IBOOM flashed onto the screen.
I stared, momentarily frozen. Was Michael an IBOOM user? I thought I knew everyone in the group.
His customer walked past me, a bag of books in hand, and I jerked my eyes to him.
Michael winked before greeting the next person in line.
Could he have sent me flowers?
I hurried to the notebook display. I chose a navy blue leatherbound book with long narrow ties and a set of new felt-tipped pens, because I was a sucker for colorful writing. And the fountain pen made me nuts.
Grace spoke to a couple near the local history books. I loitered nearby until they stepped away. “Emma!” She marched toward me with open arms. “How are you? How’s the manor? Davis fixed all your problems, I trust?”
I glanced at the man in question, unsure how to answer, since he was the cause of a few of my problems too. “Things are good,” I said diplomatically. “How are you?”
“Wonderful. You two looked cozy as I was leaving the other night. Did you find something fun to do after I left?”
