“No,” Simon answered.
“Okay, good.” Violet stabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t sneak up on me! Ever. Understood?”
His smile returned. “Yes, ma’am. Noted for the future.”
She stared at the newcomer and realized he was holding out his hand. For some insane reason, she felt compelled to shake it lest be rude. His much bigger fingers engulfed hers, and she was surprised to find they were rougher than she had imagined they would be.
Upon first glance, Violet would’ve cataloged Holt’s friend the same way she did Holt Callahan, dumping him right into the preppy column. Maybe it was the perfectly messy hair, the sharp blade of his nose, or the scruff that lined his chiseled jaw. Or—more than likely—it had to do with the jeans that cost more than jeans should cost and a polo that had likely only ever been dry-cleaned.
Neither man was the type she expected to see in her small town. Most of the men around these parts wore Wranglers and Stetsons with belt buckles the size of the great state they lived in. Their boots showed years of abuse, and their beards only sawa proper shave when Cletus Johnson or his son Clive—at the barber shop next door—got their clippers after them.
She’d bet money that Simon’s haircut cost upwards of three hundred dollars and that scruff on his jaw was maintained daily. He probably manscaped, too.
Not that she cared enough to find out. Definitely not. The best part about this guy was that he was absolutely, 100%nother type.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Simon drawled.
That silky twang directly contradicted the outer wrapping, which made Simon Jennings a conundrum wrapped in … yumminess.
Not her type of yumminess. Absolutely not. He was much too …niceto be a guy she would date. Now, if he’d eyeballed her like a tiger would raw meat, perhaps she would’ve thought so. Maybe if he said something vulgar or belched, she would swoon and think about what fast food joint she wanted to have for dinner. That was the type of guy she was drawn to. The bad boy who would undervalue her and be on his merry way when she refused to screw him after chowing down on McBurgers and fries.
Another way to look at it was, given a choice from a lineup of men, one being a billionaire philanthropist, one being a sweet schoolteacher, and one being an ex-con with no job and no prospects for one, she would undoubtedly pick the ex-con.
Not by choice, mind you. Unfortunately, it was the family curse.
Taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself, Violet pasted on her customer service smile. “Likewise.”
Not your type,she reminded her traitorous body, which was reacting oddly to the gleam in his blue eyes. Or were they green? Or gray A mixture of all three? And what about his hair? It wasn’t quite brown and definitely not blond. Somewhere in between?
Nope. She didn’t care about his eyes or his hair or the dimples that formed when he smiled.
Taking her hand back, Violet turned to Holt. “So what brings you in? Comin’ to check out the new releases? Because I can tell you right now, an author I know didn’t release one this week despite everyone flocking in to see if he did.”
“I’m working on it. Promise.”
That was the same thing he said every time she made a comment in hopes of getting him to release his next bestseller early. She tended to lean toward romance as her genre of choice but ever since she started reading Holt’s bestselling mystery thrillers, her eyes had been opened to a whole new world. Kinda like the podcasts.
Holt glanced at Simon. “I told you she had sass.”
Simon was grinning. “You did mention that, yes.”
Violet fisted her hands on her hips. “Sass or not, I’m still waitin’ on a new release, so if you’re not here for that, whatareyou here for?”
“I’m just showing Simon around town. He’s gonna be staying at the B and B for a little while.”
“Ah.” She did her best not to look at Simon, but her efforts to resist failed because she found herself glancing over to see he was watching her. “Vacation?”
“More like professional curiosity,” he answered easily before walking around the large square counter where she checked customers out.
He had a nice voice to go with the nice hair and the nice eyes. Rich, smooth. Not too deep, not too high. It sounded oddly familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. Violet knew for a fact she’d never met the man. He was one she would’ve remembered.
Not that she was attracted to him or anything.
“What is it that you do?” Not that she cared. It was just the polite thing to ask.
Simon’s gaze shifted to Holt and a look passed between them.
“Do you notknowwhat you do?” she asked, taunting him because something felt off.
