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“To work surrounded by books is, like, everyone’s dream, right?”
Loves books. Check.
“Absolutely.” I grin.
He sighs. “I wish I was so lucky.”
“You don’t like your job?” I try not to sound overeager to learn more about him.
“Oh, no, I love it. I just really love books,” he says with a chuckle.
“Where do you work?”
Forward of me? Maybe. But what have I got to lose?
“I’m a realtor in Milwaukee, though admittedly we’re seeing a lot of our clientele looking for homes in charming little towns like this one, so I’m spending more time out this way.”
I beam. I like the sound of that. “Dasher Valley is the best. Always glad to hear about more people discovering it for themselves.”
“I love the downtown scene, but there’s definitely something to be said for getting away from the hustle and bustle and finding someplace to settle in, surrounded by good people.”
“You want a new job writing marketing copy for Dasher Valley?” I quip.
He laughs. It’s a little overdone, but I’ll allow it. I was making a joke, after all.
“My C+ in Marketing 101 would have you rethinking that.”
Ah, and there’s the self-deprecation piece.
I bend and straighten a book so it’s lined up with the edge of the table. “Is there anything I can help you find? Otherwise, feel free to browse. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of time spent in a small town surrounded by books.”
“Actually, I could use your help. I’ve gotta get back on the road, but I’m shopping for a gift.” He hits me with another crooked smile. It’s a good smile. Not making me weak in the knees, but I can work with it.
“Okay. Great. I love gifts. Gifts are my favorite.” I wink.
He squints. “Uh, o-kay. Great.”
I swallow. Well, shoot. Tall Dark and Handsome didn’t catch my nod to the iconic line uttered by Will Ferrell in Elf. I’m a little let down, to be honest. Not just because now I look silly. But I mean, who doesn’t know Buddy the Elf?
“Great.” I echo him. I can recover this. “What are you looking for?”
“Well,” he says. “I’m not exactly sure.”
His shoulders heave up and then down, and I can’t tell if I’m putting him at ease or making him more stressed. I don’t love how I can’t read the guy.
“You’d think I’d be able to pick something out myself,” he says. “I’ve been shopping for her for years, but I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Her?” I clear my throat.
Red Alert. Red Alert.
I’m trying to hold out hope that Ivy’s suggestion that this could be the man of my dreams might not already be imploding. Maybe he’s on the hunt for the perfect gift for his mother.
“Yeah. My girlfriend. This is our third Christmas together. She’s anxious for a ring, but I’m not sure I’m there yet.”
Warning bells are blaring in my head.
If I wasn’t out of this potential relationship before, I am now. He doesn’t know if he’s “there” yet . . . after three years?
