The thought ran through her head on a loop.Do we address it or shrug it off?She pictured them laughing, waving dismissive hands, could’ve happened to anybody, falling asleep like that mid-movie. They were working women. They were tired. No biggie.
Jenna interrupted her swirling thoughts, entering the living room carrying a steaming mug. “Voilà.”
“Amazing. Thank you.” She looked up at Jenna, at those rich dark eyes, and smiled. “So.”
“So,” Jenna said, and she was nervous. Sawyer could tell by the way she subtly shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“Thank you for yesterday. And for last night.” More throat clearing. Yeah, way to be smooth and calm, Hall. “It was nice to be able to talk to someone. About all of it.”
Jenna nodded, her eyes darting from Sawyer’s to the coffee table. “I’m glad I could help.”
“You did.”
“Good.”
Silence fell. Sawyer sipped her coffee, which was much too hot to be sipped, then she sat there trying hard not to be obvious about the fact that she’d just scalded her tongue and taken a layer off the roof of her mouth.
“Um. Are you hungry? I can make some breakfast.” Jenna looked both hopeful and filled with dread, and Sawyer wasn’t sure how that was possible.
“I’d love to, but I have a meeting this morning, so I should probably get home. Grab a shower. Etcetera.” Oh, God, did she just use the wordetceterain a sentence?
“Okay. Sure. No problem.” Jenna smiled softly. “I forget that my weekends aren’t the same as everybody else’s weekends.”
“Oh, you’re off today. I forgot about that.”
“Yup. It’s my Saturday.”
Again, they faltered in the silence. Jenna did the shifting thing again, and Sawyer knew if she’d been standing, she’d be doing the same thing.
“All right.” She slapped her hand on her thigh like an old man and pushed to her feet.
“Take the coffee with you,” Jenna said, gesturing to it in Sawyer’s hand. “I know where you live, so it’s not like I’ll never see my mug again.”
Sawyer grinned. “I will. Thank you.” They stood looking at each other, the coffee table between them, and Sawyer smiled tenderly. “Thank you again. For last night.” She swallowed. “All of it.”
Jenna nodded, her eyes dancing away, and headed toward the door. Sawyer stepped into her shoes as Jenna opened it and gave an exaggerated shiver. “Chilly this morning. Be careful on the long commute.”
Sawyer tried to grin but worried it appeared as more of a strange grimace. “Will do.” She stopped directly in front of Jenna, but it felt too close to stay there, too scary, and she made herself keep walking until she was safely past Jenna and on the front porch. “Enjoy your day off.”
Exactly six steps separated Jenna’s door and her own; she counted them, and Jenna didn’t close her own door until Sawyer had walked through hers. Once inside, she leaned back against the door and let out a long, slow breath.
She wondered if Jenna might be doing the same thing next door.
Chapter Ten
The store looked great, if Jenna said so herself.
The decorations had multiplied, somehow, over the past two weeks until the entire shop looked like autumn had thrown up all over it (but tastefully). Pumpkins and gourds and plastic leaves and orange twinkle lights and corn stalks and a couple bales of hay outside on the sidewalk—all of it made for the coziest, warmest-looking season so far since Jenna had owned BookLove. The second she walked in the front door, she felt herself relax and become filled with a sense of belonging and invitation. Exactly how she wanted her customers to feel.
Candles burned behind the counter—the only place she ever burned them in the store because an open flame and shelves full of things made out of paper didn’t really mix—and filled the air with the scent of cranberries and apples. Off to the side, near the wall, stood a small table that featured a Crock-Pot keeping apple cider warm and a plate with apple cider donuts piled high in a pyramid. Several more boxes sat ready in the back room, donated by Dakota’s shop and baked just that morning.
In the center of the store, as soon as you walked in, sat a small table and chair. The table was piled high with copies of Lily Chambers’s most recent book, titledCupid’s Arrow, along with two black fine point Sharpies and an empty mug that she’d fill with whatever Lily wanted once she arrived. Some of the books had sticky notes attached with names of people who had preordered signed copies so that Lily would know how to personalize them. The rest were blanks, and an additional box remained in the back.
“Stop wringing your hands,” Delia said from behind the counter, but her voice was warm. “The place looks amazing, all the bases are covered, there’s a line down the street, and you’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”
Dee wasn’t wrong; Jenna tried to remind herself of that. She was a pro at this. How many book signings had she hosted at the shop? Thirty? Fifty? And, sure, Lily Chambers was one of the most famous, but they’d met several times, and they liked each other. Lily was lovely, no pretense, no diva-like behavior. She was just a person, and Jenna was fond of her. One might go so far as to call them friends. There really was nothing to be nervous about.
Shane came up an aisle from the back, a neat pile of napkins in his hand that he set down near the donuts, then fanned out a little so they looked nice. “She’s right,” he said, without looking at her. “You got this.”
