I end the call, then meet Banks’s eyes. “Can the dog sleep here?”
“Of course.”
I rush across the lawn, into the house, and to the living room. Hudson leaps up from the floor, greeting me with the waggiest tail I’ve ever seen.
“He’s been whimpering at the door,” Haven says as she stands and stretches, phone and a pair of pink heart-shaped sunglasses in hand. “Hewuvsyou.”
I kneel and cup his soft snout. “Iwuvhim too.”
He happy-whimpers against my face, then I stand and pat his side. “You can come with me, buddy.” Then I turn to her. “Are you taking off?”
She nods. “Just said good night to Grandma and Wanda’s at the door.” She steps closer and flashes a smile. “She’s hilarious. She’s like a standup comic. She has the funniest stories about her kids and her wife.”
“I’m glad your bodyguard doubles as entertainment,” I say.
“Me too.”
Before I say goodbye, my gaze strays to the coffee table. Ah, there’s the canvas bag with my books, one of which is for Haven. I grab it and reach inside for the one William brought over the other day for her. The cover is light blue with a photo of an inviting beach house overlooking the ocean.That Summer with Youis the title. “I almost forgot. William brought this over for you when he brought my book,” I say, then hand her the paperback.
“Oh fun!”
A note slips out. It’s folded in half so I can’t see it, but I grab it before it falls to the floor. I hand the piece of paper to her, along with the book. “What’s up with the note?”
“I bet he marked his favorite pages,” she says with a friendly smile.
“Does he normally?” I ask. “And do you normally get books from him?”
“I do. I always try to order from the hometown store. You know how it goes. Support a local business and all. So he leaves notes on his favorite scenes. Such a book guy,” she says with a shrug, then takes the note and the book.
I arch a brow. That sounds like more than bookishness. “He probably has a crush on you.”
She scoffs. “Doubtful.”
“Not doubtful. You’re kind of a movie star,” I stage whisper. “Also, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
She stares right back at me, then clears her throat. “Ahem. Pot. Kettle.Literally.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“And speaking of crushes, is your bodyguard hot for you?” she whispers.
A flush spreads like wildfire up my chest. “No,” I say immediately. “He just stays close to me.”
“That’s not what I meant, Ripley.”
But I don’t want to talk about Banks with her. Because nothing more can happen with him, and she doesn’t need to worry about me. She especially doesn’t need to play matchmaker when sheshould be playing Lucy Snow, the heroine inSomeone Else’s Ring.
“Enjoy the book from thenot-crush,” I say.
“Enjoy the cottage with thenot-crush.”
We leave together, with Wanda mentioning that her son thinks there’s a dinosaur named Asparagus Rex.
“Honestly, that’d be a good name for a dino,” I admit.
“Or a new variety of asparagus,” she says.
“I’d eat that asparagus,” Haven puts in.
