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He looked at her for a long moment. “I have avoided women like you. I have deliberately dated women that I couldn’t see a future with, women who were ‘fun for now,’ rather than ‘perfect for forever.’”
She blushed, suddenly feeling shy. “I didn’t know there was such a category.”
“It’s not a spreadsheet kind of thing.”
“Ah.”
“You make me want all the things I’ve never had—the snug little Victorian on Bramble, the family, the traditions.”
Her cheeks still felt hot but now her mouth had gone dry. She didn’t know what to say. On one hand, his words filled her with fizzy emotion, making her feel like a bottle of champagne. On the other hand, none of his dreams meshed with her goals. And yet she was impossibly drawn to him. She loved looking at him. Loved everything about his face from the creases at his eyes, to the brackets at his mouth, and the warmth in his blue eyes. She’d come to Marietta for an old bookstore and had instead fallen in love with the most handsome, dashing, man she’d ever seen.
But how impractical this all was.
How impossible.
He was in Houston, she was in Irvine… and he talked of a home in Marietta.
She liked Marietta but couldn’t imagine living here full-time. She couldn’t imagine leaving her life in Irvine behind for the old bookstore, either.
None of this made sense. She was asking for pain and disappointment.
*
Atticus heard her heavy sigh and glanced at her as he signed the check to his room, but her expression was shuttered, and she suddenly seemed distant.
They left the restaurant, and walking through the lobby, stopped to have a look at all the gingerbread houses from the competition yesterday. There were little houses and big houses, log cabins, Bramble House B&B, and even a replica of the Graff Hotel.
They made small talk as they admired the display and then stepped outside for the walk back to the bookstore.
Rachel buried her hands in her coat pockets. “Why have you never shown me your plans for the bookstore?” she asked.
He frowned but didn’t immediately answer and Rachel pressed on. “Cormac Sheenan told me last night when he came by during the stroll that you’d had plans drawn up for your restaurant, and that they were pretty remarkable.” She hesitated. “I’d like to see them.”
“I don’t think you’re the ideal audience, Rachel.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Her forehead creased. “No, I don’t.”
“You do. We talked about the two dogs, one bone—”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that,” he said firmly.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “But what if I shouldn’t have the bone?”
He frowned, uncertain where this was going. “You love the store.”
“I wouldn’t say I love it. I find it intriguing, it’s a puzzle, and I’m starting to love some of the books, but I have a real job, and it’s not here.”
“You’ve given up on Paradise Books?”
“No. I started uploading books to a big online retailer today that specializes in old books.”
“Good.”
“But, come on, who is going to manage things when I’m not here? Who will input the thousands of books that fill the store? Who will mail the books out, and keep entries updated? The bookstore has so much potential, but only if someone really works hard at it. I don’t know that I’m that person.”
“Did Cormac put this idea in your head?” he asked, troubled.
“No. I’m just… worried. I have to go back one day—”
“Do you? You couldn’t stay here? Find work here?”
“I’m an accountant, not a bookseller.”
“So be an accountant, and hire someone to work the bookstore.”
“Are you no longer interested in purchasing it?” she asked.
“Not if it’s going to hurt us.”
He saw her flinch at his words, and it caught him off guard.
“You told me you’ve been trying to get Lesley to sell the store to you for the past eighteen months,” she added flatly.
“Yes.”
“But you’re giving up on your dream, just like that?”
“Dreams can change.”
“Not that quickly.”
“There are other ways to do this.”
“I want to see your plans, the ones Cormac mentioned.”
He battled to hang on to his temper. Why was she so determined to be negative? She had options, so many options, and she refused to consider them. “Why?”
“Because I want to see how you’d use the building. I want to know how you’d reenvision the store.”
“The books would be gone. The shelves would be gone. Only the brick, the crown molding, and the windows would remain,” he said, tone curt. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Where would the books go?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t my problem,” he answered. “I figured the books could be moved, someone could take one of those little houses on Church and turn it into a charming bookstore. Many of the houses have already been zoned for commercial use.”
“That could still happen,” she said. “Paradise Books wouldn’t have to be closed. It would just be relocated. It’d also be a lot more affordable to run—smaller space, lower ceilings, all one floor.”
“You’d need two houses then for all those books. You’d have to cut your stock in half.”
“Which could work, if the online business picked up.” She chewed her lip. “It’s not a bad idea, you know. It could work if someone wanted to save the books.”
“Rachel, you want to save the books.”
“Do I?” She stopped walking and he was forced to stop, too. “Or is that what you think I should do?”
“Why don’t we do this together? Why don’t—”
“So, you’re withdrawing your offer for the bookstore?” she interrupted, her voice short, clipped.
He sighed, arms folding over his broad chest. “Not officially, no. But I got a tip that the Bank of Marietta, across the street from the bookstore, might be closing its location, and opening a small branch in the new development north of here. It’s also a landmark building, on a corner, with a lot of space.”
“It doesn’t have the brick you wanted, or the character.”
“No. It has marble and high ceilings and fancy columns.”
“That wasn’t your vision for your Montana restaurant.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m excited about what you can do with the bookstore. Maybe I realized those books are part of that historic building. The books are the heart of the building. How do I just dismantle that?”
“You have wanted Paradise Books for eighteen months, and now just a week after meeting me, you’re giving up the dream. That’s crazy, and wrong.”
“What’s crazy was me thinking only one place would do. I could put my next Galveston anywhere—Bozeman, Missoula, Big Fork. It doesn’t even have to be in Montana. There’s Wyoming, there’s Idaho.”
“You love Marietta.”
His jaw hardened. “I’m not going to fight you for it anymore.”
“So, your offer is off the table.”
“You can make the bookstore work,” he said. “If anyone could make it work, it’s you.”
“You’re making me want to cry, and I never cry,” she whispered, throat aching with emotion.
“You can do this, Rachel. We can do this, Rachel. Let’s team up together—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not together, and we can’t commit to big things together.”
“I have a good gut.”
“Not in this case. I’m sorry.”
“Rachel.”
“I can’t listen to this, and Atticus, you shouldn’t want this. You’ve invested in plans. You have an architect and a contractor ready to go. I had no idea how much money
you’d already poured into this—”
“Cormac had no business telling you any of that.”
“This isn’t about him, though. Don’t be upset with him. This is about your goals, and mine, and they’re not in sync. We’re not in sync. I like you, I do, but you have no idea how much I regret coming to Montana right now. I came here on a lark and now neither of us will have what we wanted. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”
“Nothing has changed.”
*
