“Here, let me get those for you.” He took the books out of my hands and placed them on the wooden counter next to the register. “Hi, Enid?”
“Yes, Your Highness. How can I help you?” She smiled broadly, the same maternal welcome that I saw her give to all her customers. Enid was a special soul and had suffused her exceptional warmth into every nook and cranny of this store.
Oliver gave her one of his award-winning smiles. “Please, call me Oliver. I’d love to buy that collector’s edition ofThe Lord of the Ringsover there.” He pointed to the green-and-gold leather set on the shelf behind the counter.
I’m pretty sure I heard Enid choke back a squeal.“Yes, absolutely.” She spun and lifted the set from the shelf, placing in on the counter in front of Oliver.
“You can ring this all up together,” he said as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.
“Oh! No, no, no,” I protested as Enid started ringing up my books along with Oliver’s. “Enid, please don’t ring those up together. Those books are mine.”
“Adelaide.” Oliver placed his hand on top of the one I had reached out as I tried to grab my books. “Please let me do this. You really saved me from traumatizing my sister.”Hisvoice was serious, but he winked and the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my gosh. It was no big deal. Seriously, please let me buy my own books.”
“Adelaide, I insist.”
I tried to ignore the fact that his large, warm hand still rested on my own. “And I insist you let me buy my own books.”
“Then have dinner with me.”
“What?” I jerked back, surprised.
Oliver grinned and met my gaze. “Let me buy you dinner for helping me.”
I hesitated, quickly debating the ethics of going to dinner with one of my students versus letting him buy my stack of romance novels.You can go to dinner as friends. Friends eat food together. That’s a perfectly normal thing to do.
“Fine. We can go to dinner.”
The smuggest smile I had ever seen spread across his face.
As I paid, Oliver beckoned to his security guard, who approached and leaned his head in as Oliver spoke. “Faxon, change of plans. We’re going to Intimo for dinner.”
Faxon nodded. “Yes, sir.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, typing quickly before putting it away again.
As we said our goodbyes to Enid and exited Whispering Words, Oliver led me to the curb, where yet another man clad in all black opened the door to a large SUV.
The man inclined his head toward Oliver. “Sir.”
“Jackson,” Oliver answered, placing his hand on my back to guide me into the vehicle. Oliver slid in after me before Jackson closed the door and made his way around the car to the driver’s seat. It was still mind-boggling to me that Oliverlived his life with security and drivers and God knew who else every day.
He buckled his seatbelt, then paused. “Do you like Italian food? I should have asked before I just decided.”
My stomach growled and I felt my face grow hot. I could just climb out of the car and disappear, right? Oliver threw back his head in laughter. “Shall I take that as a yes?”
I grinned sheepishly. “IloveItalian food.”
The button on my jeans was definitely about to burst open. I was so full after bruschetta, salad, cacio e pepe, and two glasses of Chardonnay.
“Dessert for the lovely couple?” our server asked through a heavy Italian accent.
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” I said at the same moment that Oliver said, “I’d love a tiramisu.”
“Right away, Your Highness.” The man bowed and left through the door that led from the private dining area into the rest of the restaurant.
Oliver twirled the stem of his wine glass with his pointer and thumb.
I watched him, noticing the slight furrow in his brows. “You look like you have something on your mind.”
