“You must be the mysterious Carriage House Man,” she says with a wide smile and an approving glance in my direction.
Three other volunteers at booths on either side of us turn to stare.
Oh gosh.
“I guess that’s me. I’m Oliver.”
He absorbs the stares and whispers with a friendly smile and a firm handshake.
“Nice to meet the man who popped her bed-and-breakfast cherry!” Skylar comments.
“Skylar!” I hiss, as she cackles.
I glance over at Oliver, who continues to be unfazed. “I think that title goes to her neighbors. They got to test out the carriage house first,” he replies.
“Well, you’d better give her a five-star review on the app,” Skylar says, mock-threateningly.
Oliver rests a hand on my lower back and says, “Already taken care of.”
I look over at him. “Really?”
“Five stars in every category.”
I smile up at him, and for the first time, I relax under his gaze. The blue eyes aren’t intimidating me now. Now that I let myself look without darting away, I’m basking in the attention. Oliver stares like a man who adores me.
I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that, but I’ll take it.
I rub my hands together and turn my attention to my best friend, eager to be put to work and to not talk about myself. “What do you need us to do?”
Skylar has printouts of how she wants everything staged, with books and knick-knacks interspersed throughout the displays, along with cards containing book recommendations.
The three of us complete the set-up just in time for the mayor to officially open the festival with the ringing of the bell at the downtown square. I explain the ritual to Oliver: “Every morning of the festival, she rings this old bell that used to belong to the one-room schoolhouse that stood there on Main Street, before there was a Main Street. About a hundred and fifty years ago, the school got swept away in a flood, and all that was still in one piece was the bell. They repaired it, and now it lives in front of the town hall, and every time there’s a festival, the mayor rings the bell and gives a corny speech.”
To my surprise, Oliver doesn’t appear to look completely bored by my story about the town. “That’s really cool,” he says. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
The three of us work together for most of the morning, falling into a steady rhythm. Skylar does most of the talking about the bookstore coming soon to Songbird Ridge, as she should. I handle most of the transactions and answer the questions that I can. Oliver restocks books, bags up purchases, stays on top of the intricate displays, and serves as our go-to for snacks and drinks.
We experience a steady stream of customers and browsers throughout the morning, and at one point, a tall drink of water with Oliver's eyes and hair walks up.
“Oliver.” The man gives a curt nod.
“Finn. You made it.”
I stand there wondering if anyone will explain how these two know each other.
“Iris, this is my brother Finn.”
Brother. That explains the resemblance. He’s a little bulkier, though, and has an entirely different type of energy that I can’t put my finger on. He shakes my hand and looks me in the eye. That, combined with the way he speaks, suggests he might be recently ex-military.
But when I introduce Finn to Skylar, something changes on the inside. It’s like his whole body went from the rigidity of a two-by-four to goo. I can see it in his eyes. What the heck just happened?
He braces both his hands around hers for a long, long second while he locks his blue eyes with Skylar’s, hers a deep mocha.
“Lovely to meet you, ma’am.”
I glance at Oliver, who mouths “lovely?” I’m guessing that’s not a word the Harris men typically throw around.
Skylar bats her lashes and says, “Aren’t you precious? Pleasure to meet you, sailor.”
