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She blushed. “You’re the one with expert lips.”
He smiled, amused, and then his smile faded and he brushed his thumb across her sensitive lips. “I think I just like kissing you.”
Her heart did a double beat. “I’ve tried so hard to keep you at arm’s length. I even tried to hate you. It didn’t work.”
“Why hate me?”
“Two dogs, one bone, that sort of thing.”
“There are other bones,” he answered, dipping his head to place a kiss on her forehead, and then the tip of her nose.
“Yes, but you really want this place.”
“Not as much as I want you happy.”
“Kissing you made me happy.”
“A note to self,” he said, kissing her on the mouth, with a slow, warm lingering kiss, “which makes me wonder if we’re going about this wrong.”
“Going about what wrong?”
“You, me, the bookstore.”
She still felt deliciously fuzzy from the kisses, and she wasn’t sure she was following. Correction, she knew she wasn’t following. She wasn’t able to focus at all. “I’m afraid kissing you has fogged my brain. What are you saying?”
“We shouldn’t be fighting each other. We should team up. Partner with each other.”
Rachel slid off his lap and reclaimed her spot on the small couch. A moment ago she felt deliciously alive, humming with lovely sensation, but the lovely warmth was fading and she just felt confused.
“Maybe we’ve been approaching this business transaction all wrong,” he added. “Maybe we’re supposed to do something together.”
“How?”
“We create a partnership here in Montana, combine our interests—”
“But our interests are in opposition.”
“Are they? Why can’t we do something jointly with the bookstore?”
Rachel jumped off the couch and crossed to the kitchen where she leaned against a counter. Her pulse was thudding but not with good emotion. She struggled to contain the panic.
“I don’t think…” She swallowed hard, and tried again. “I don’t know. I’m not sure this is a good idea. We have different goals. We want different things.”
“I’m simply saying I think we should have a conversation about how we could work together, that’s all. We get along well. I think we’d be good partners.”
“Business partners.”
“Not necessarily just business.”
He’d just made her feel the most wonderful things. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so alive, or optimistic, but this, what he was suggesting, filled her with unease, if not downright dread.
“I’m overwhelming you,” he said.
“A little,” she admitted.
“It’s just a thought.”
She nodded, and forced herself to smile. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“You’re right.” He rose and went to her, and kissed her on the forehead. “I probably should have waited.”
“No, I’m glad you brought it up. It’s good to know what you’re thinking,” she answered, because it was, and now she could be prepared, and cautious.
She’d loved kissing him tonight, but she was horrified by his suggestions. He had plans, and so did she, and there was safety in plans. There was a reason for their plans.
Downstairs at the door, he kissed her good night, kissing her with the same heat and passion he’d shown upstairs, kissing her until her skin prickled and her veins felt like they were full of honey and hot wine, and when the kiss ended, he stepped away and gave her a faint smile.
“You are hard to resist, Rachel Mills,” he said before lifting his coat from the coatrack and walking out in the night.
Rachel closed the door behind him, locked it, and then stood at the door a moment, fist pressed to her mouth as she watched him disappear. She liked him. She liked him more than she’d liked anyone in years, and tonight he’d made her feel pleasure and hope and happiness, but now she wondered if she’d imagined all those good feelings. Emotions were dangerous, and not to be trusted.
She’d come to Marietta for the bookstore. She’d come to make decisions, and figure out her future, not fall in love with Atticus and throw caution to the wind.
*
Taylor Sheenan arrived not long after Rachel opened the bookstore the next day.
“I couldn’t sleep very well last night,” Taylor said. “I feel really bad about not doing more to support your party.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine—”
“It’s not your fault. You’ve only just arrived in town and you don’t know anyone yet. It’s not easy being the new person in town. I know, because when I first moved here, it took me a long time to feel like I belonged.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “If I hadn’t met Troy, I don’t know if I would have stayed in Marietta. He has a huge family, five brothers, and they’re all married. I should have reached out to them and asked them to come to your open house.”
“Grey’s Saloon had a crowd last night,” Rachel said.
“They always get a crowd when they have popular bands.”
Rachel hadn’t even realized Grey’s was having a band in until Atticus mentioned it last night, but then, it hadn’t crossed her mind that there would be competition, either. “Lesson learned,” she said lightly. “Next time I’ll be better prepared.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Say what?”
“Next time. So you will do another party?”
“Well, I’m sure I will… someday.”
“How about tonight, during the Marietta Stroll?”
Rachel frowned. “If I can’t compete with Grey’s, how can I compete with the stroll, although to be perfectly honest, I don’t fully understand the stroll.”
“It’s Marietta’s annual Christmas event. It’s half street party, half festival. All the stores on Main Street stay open, and there are horse drawn wagons through town, the lighting of the big tree at the courthouse, plus Santa and the gingerbread competition at the Graff. It’s the perfect time for everyone to rediscover the bookstore.”
“I’m not so sure Marietta cares about the bookstore anymore.”
“Maybe they don’t really know you’ve reopened. Maybe you need more of a presence.”
“I redid the window display, on both sides.”
“And you did a great job. The store looked gorgeous last night with your Christmas tree and holiday buffet. Now we just need to get people inside.”
“You really think my windows are enough?” Rachel asked, suddenly anxious as she peeked at the colorful children’s books balancing on vintage wooden crates. It wasn’t a Macy’s window, but it was better than the Valentine display that had been there for nearly three years.
“I do.”
“And you think I should participate in the stroll tonight?”
“Most definitely. Everyone up and down Main Street will be staying open now until the end of the stroll, which typically ends around nine.”
“Do any of the businesses serve wine or food?”
“They do, and this would be the perfect occasion if you still had any party leftovers.”
“Taylor, I could feed an army with all my meatballs, cookies, and cakes.”
“Sounds like you’re having another party.” Taylor smiled. “And this time cleanup will be a breeze. There won’t be hardly any food or drink left after the stroll ends.”
*
Taylor was right.
The Marietta Stroll was a busy, crowded event and thanks to the frosted sign, WE’RE OPEN, painted on her windows by a friend of Taylor’s, people flocked in. But even before the stroll kicked off, deliveries were made to the bookstore, gifts from other businesses on Main Street. Risa sent flowers, Sage sent salted caramels, and Rachel Vaughn delivered a tray of gingerbread cookies in the shape of books, each book iced and then wrapped in clear cellophane.
And just when R
achel Mills didn’t think she could handle another sweet surprise, Sadie Douglas arrived with her husband Rory and climbed into her window and went to work moving the crates around, and removed some books, and then lifted a set of hardback books from the trunk. The books were all stuck together, possibly glued, and Sadie placed this on top of a crate she’d turned upside down, making it taller.
Rachel bit her tongue to keep from saying anything that would sound ungrateful, and yet she didn’t understand what Sadie was doing, but Rory clearly did because he kept handing her tools and then connecting lights, and adjusting another crate so that the odd book thingy was higher.
