I opened my hands. “Do what?”
He shot me a toothy grin that was more shark-like than I’d have preferred. “This,” he repeated. “You. This super-excited, bouncing-in-his-seat fifty-five-going-on-twelve-year-old cutesy. It’s like taking a kid to breakfast before their first visit to Disneyland. The air around you is crackling with adrenaline. Or is that dopamine? I can’t remember which does what. Either way, it’s an entirely new and positively enchanting side of you.”
I blinked. “Are you on drugs?”
“Yes,” he quipped. “It’s called love. And I am totally and irrevocably addicted. No intervention required.”
He looked so serious, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are way, way sappier than you’d have everyone think.” I poked him in the chest over his owl tattoo. “Heart of a marshmallow, I always knew it.”
Nick looked appalled. “Keep your voice down.”
I grinned. “I notice you didn’t deny it.”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “Never. When it comes to you, I’ll drip sap like a maple all day long.” He frowned at his own words. “Make that a very manly, strong but in-touch-with-his-feelings, new-age kind of maple.”
I snorted. “Good to know. Now, do you think you can shake your branches or shiver your leaves, or whatever it is you maples do, and get us out of here? I’m jonesing for the scent of aged paper and linen thread stitching. And if I happen to find some original gilded edging to drool over, I won’t be held responsible for my actions. You might have to bail me out for indecent exposure.”
Nick gaped. “You are joking, right?”
I cocked a brow noncommittally. “You already know that we book collectors are passionate people.” I pushed my chair away from the table and got to my feet. “Remember the studio? That’s all I’m gonna say.” I shot him a wink and headed for the door.
Nick hurried to catch up. “I really feel this book-kink thing warrants further exploration. Maybe we could do a study or something, you know, for the good of humanity and all that?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It could spice up our naked times.”
I choked out a laugh and pushed through the open café door onto the footpath. “Says the man with a reading glasses fetish. Besides, I’m not sure we could handle any more spice in our naked times. My body won’t take it.” Thunder cracked overhead and the far side of the road disappeared behind the lashing rain. I stopped and swung around. “But in the interest of full disclosure, how exactly would you see a book kink playing out?”
Nick shrugged, a boyish grin lighting up his face. “I dunno. You book guys are super weird. Ask me how I know.” He snagged that plump lower lip between his teeth and eyed me up and down. “All I’m saying is I’d like to be mentally prepared if the opportunity arose. Maybe have some options in place.”
“Dear God.” I shoved him toward our rental car, a dark green Ford Focus. “Now get in and drive before I show you exactly how weird I can be.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Please say that’s a promise.”
I sent him a look that made him laugh. But his humour died the second I opened the passenger door and he realised he’d have to brave the teaming rain to reach the driver’s side.
He shot me a withering look. “Arsehole.”
I answered with a grin and slid into the passenger seat, dry as toast.
The venue hosting the book fair was a large conference facility set on the edge of downtown Nelson. Even with my coat pulled over my head, by the time we raced across the car park and pushed through the glass doors into the foyer, I was thoroughly drenched. But the discomfort vanished the moment Ilooked into the spacious event room and saw all those books just waiting to be ogled and caressed.
My heart rate leaped and I wiped my clammy hands down the front of my jeans. I thought of Nick’s joking comment about book kinks and realised he wasn’t far wrong. The book fair was a bibliophile’s wet dream and—not that I’d ever admit it—there were definite elements of arousal involved.
As I walked through the foyer, I raised a hand in greeting to more than a few familiar faces—equally passionate collectors and restorers. One or two of them raised a questioning brow when they clocked Nick’s hand sliding possessively around my waist, but I ignored them. I’d never hidden my sexuality, but I usually attended these events on my own. First, I’d never had a boyfriend interested enough to accompany me. And second, I generally preferred to wander the tables in my own time and not worry about entertaining anyone else. The realisation that I actuallywantedNick here took me by surprise. Maybe an old dog could learn new tricks after all.
Nick pointed to a sign that warned everyone to check their coats and umbrellas at the cloakroom in order to protect the books. “Give them here.” He indicated my dripping coat and umbrella. “I’ll sort these out while you get in there and start drooling. I’ll catch you up.”
I didn’t even attempt to argue, just did as he said and put a rain-wet kiss on his lips. “Thank you. Looks like the auction will take place through there.” I indicated a sign at the far end of the foyer. “It starts in about thirty minutes, but a friend on the organising committee said I can pop in beforehand since we missed the pre-auction viewing yesterday.”
Nick nodded. “Then I’ll look for you in there. I might—” He hesitated, a red flush creeping up his neck. “I might go back to the car and call my—” He stopped himself, then said, “Chloe.”
I took a few seconds to process that unexpected announcement. I’d hoped to be with him when he made that call. “Are you sure you don’t want me there?”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m just finalising a time for tomorrow, right? How hard can it be?”
How hard indeed? The first time actually hearing your mother’s voice after decades of estrangement? Yeah. Totally fine.
But I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I offered again to stay back with him, adding, “The books can wait ten minutes. Nothing is more important to me than you, love. Nothing.”
He kissed my cheek. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I kind of want to do this bit on my own. Like a test to see if I’ve got the balls to handle the rest. When you’re with me, I need it to be because Iwantyou there, not because I can’t do it without you.” He flushed again. “It’s stupid, I know, and I don’t mean to hurt you?—”
