Smiling, I stare at myself. I’m being silly. I’m too old for this outfit and these bows, but they feel good. I don’t think Cannon is going to make fun of me. He didn’t last night, plus he’s the one who put all this stuff in the room for me. Isn’t he? Maybe he didn’t choose it all, but he asked someone to choose for me. He must have given them some directives.
I’m barefoot as I find the courage to open the door and step out into the hall.
For a moment, I don’t hear anything, so I’m not sure where Cannon might be. Then his voice comes from another room, so I turn in that direction. The door is open, so I round the corner. Standing in the doorway, I realize this is definitely his home office, the room where he told me he had tons of books.
Cannon is facing the windows on the phone. I take in the room. He wasn’t kidding. The bookshelves are floor-to-ceiling and loaded with books. I’m nearly salivating. I wonder if he meant it when he said I could read anything I want. I don’t want to be rude, but if I had my way, I would grab a pile of these books, return to the pink bedroom, rest against the pile of pillows, and read all day. I could do that every single day for the rest of my life.
Who am I kidding? Nobody gets to do that. People have to work. I need to find a job and get out of his hair. But maybe just this one day? Maybe I could have two days? Maybe he would let me stay long enough to read Moby Dick if I promise to pay him back for his hospitality.
I slowly ease into the room, drawn toward the books like a magnet.
Cannon wasn’t talking when I entered. He was just listening. But now he speaks. “Sure. I’ll ask her. She’s not up yet.”
I jerk my gaze toward him just as he turns around.
He startles.
For a moment, I panic. What the hell was I thinking coming into his office without permission?
But in true Cannon style, he smiles and says, “Actually, she’s up now. I’ll call you back.” He puts his phone on the desk and comes toward me.
I rub my hands together. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come in without knocking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything.”
When he reaches me, he cups my shoulders and frowns. “Eloise, you don’t need permission to come into any part of the apartment. If I’m on the phone, you might have to wait a minute for me to hang up, but you’re always welcome to seek me out.”
My cheeks flush. I’m not used to people being nice to me. I keep expecting him to shout at me. He never does.
“Did you eat the snack I left?”
“Yes. Thank you. It was delicious.”
He scrunches up his nose. “It was toaster pastries that weren’t even toasted. Gross.”
I smile. “I liked them.”
“Let’s get some real food in you, yeah?” He takes my hand and guides me out of his office.
I look over my shoulder, yearning for the books.
Suddenly, he stops and snaps his fingers as if he’s forgotten something. He releases me, takes quick strides over to the shelves, and pulls out a book. When he joins me again, he holds it out. “As requested.”
I’m stunned. I don’t know why. He hasn’t lied to me so far. Why would he tell me he had Moby Dick or that I could read it if he didn’t actually have a copy?
I take the book from him. “Thank you so much. I’ll be really careful with it. I promise.”
“It’s a book, Eloise. Not a first edition or anything. It’s just a dog-eared copy from a few years ago. No need to be careful. I might have folded the pages or even written in the margins of that one.”
I gasp, my jaw dropping.
He laughs. “Are you one of those people who think it’s sacrilegious to open a book all the way and break the spine?”
My eyes widen more.
He laughs harder. “Okay. I get it. I promise I won’t touch your books. But you’re welcome to touch any of mine, and I won’t mind how you treat them. They’re meant to be loved. I can always tell when a book has been enjoyed if it has a coffee stain on it and the cover is bent.”
“Coffee stain,” I nearly shout. “You can’t bring drinks near books. What a heathen.”
His eyes dance with mirth as he pulls me against his chest. “Speaking of coffee, do you drink it? I wasn’t sure if I should make you some.”
