“Elle, your head is far too pretty to bruise in this way. How can I help?”
I groaned. Great. Now I not only looked like a fool, I was doing it in front of Nate. That seemed on brand for my day.
I slowly looked up, willing someone to call him away. No dice. He stood there, looking stupidly amazing. Hot book nerd all the way. Mussed hair, gorgeous glasses, a bit of stubble, fitted button-down rolled up and showcasing those forearms that I’d somehow developed an obsession with. Check, check, and check.
Hell, checkmate. How did I spin this one? Nate fortunately took pity on me as he dropped into the chair next to me and tapped my computer screen.
“Work-work or dream-work?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you working on your day job or your dream novel?”
“Shhhhhhhh,” I said, glancing around to see who was near.
He shook his head as I worked not to panic. “Elle, why is this such a big secret?”
I groaned, burying my face in my arms. “Ava doesn’t even know.”
“Your sister doesn’t know you want to write a book, but you told me? Why?”
Well, that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?
“Have you emailed that agent back yet?”
I groaned into my arms, regretting the fact that I not only told Nate about my secret novelist dream, but that an agent I met was interested in pitching my book when I got at least three-quarters of it written. He must have put some type of truth serum in my coffee that day. It was the only answer for my loose lips.
Over the past six weeks in Highland, I’d developed a routine. Nights were taken up with Ava, rotating dinners with my new neighbors, Nic and Kate, and some girls’ nights out with them, my sister, or a combination of people I’d met between the bookstore and the library. My social life was far fuller than it’d been in Chicago but still relaxed and quiet, which was just as I liked it.
My days also had structure. Mornings found me up early to take yoga from Kristine’s rotating location of yoga classes. Though this week she’d finally opened her studio next to the bookstore, which was amazing. After yoga I typically got coffee at the Sanctuary and headed to the library or went straight to the library to get coffee here. The Sanctuary was an adorable café, and I could easily have worked there. So what drew me to the library again and again?
Nate Roberts.
Jesus. I had it bad for this guy. Over the past six weeks, I’d sat here, soaking in any attention he shot my way. If it was only that the man was gorgeous, I would have let this little crush go months ago. But that wasn’t it. Nate was gorgeousandfunnyandkindandconsiderate.
And I’d told him my long-held secret dream.
Ahhhhhhhh.
Picking my head up, I saw a coffee mug had somehow appeared in front of me. I glanced from the mug to Nate. “You brought me coffee?”
“Yep. You were too busy having a meltdown to notice. It’s okay, I forgive you.” He sat back, the picture of ease.
I glanced at the mug. It looked like he’d added the perfect amount of hot chocolate mix, exactly the way I liked it. I mean, seriously, who knew there were guys like this out in the world?
Or maybe not guys plural. Maybe it was just Nate. Surely if he wasn’t an anomaly, people would be talking.
More to the point, how in the hell didn’t he have a girlfriend?
Yep, there went the old pang to the heart. Super.
“You’re avoiding the question, Ms. Robinson. Your sister doesn’t know about Peter?”
I doubled down on the “shhhhhh” this time.
Nate’s grin was Cheshire cat–worthy. “So, Elle, what you’re saying is that you don’t want me telling people about Peter and Thea, who find a body in the catacombs of Paris in the twenties? That’s what I shouldn’t be talking about.”
Head to table. Wave the white flag. I was done, thank you very much.
