And his eyes. Faded blue, soft like denim left in the sun. When he smiled, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, they crinkled in a way that made her stomach do something undignified.
“Hello,” he said, voice low and warm. “Returning some late books before they cross the line into delinquency. I’d hate to make enemies of the library spirits.”
Goldie’s stomach did a little flip. Not the usual sparkly-flirty kind she sometimes conjured for effect, not even the swoop she got when Ezra smirked just right. This was something quieter. Warmer. More real.
It startled her—and delighted her, too.
She let herself shine a little brighter, just enough to catch the light and toss it back with flair, and was rewarded when his face lit up in kind.
“Well,” she said with a wink. “I hope you brought a bribe. The library spirits can be…particular.”
He lifted a waxed paper bag stamped with the golden sigil of Brimstone & Butter, grinning sheepishly. “You read my mind. Croissants. No jam to smudge the pages.”
Goldie gasped as if he’d produced crown jewels. “Careful. That’s a legally binding invitation in this building.”
His smile deepened, the eye-crinkles committing fully. “Noted.”
He handed over the bag, and Goldie accepted the pastry with theatrical reverence and then eyed the neat stack of returns he’d set on the counter.
Her fingers drifted over the covers as if blessing them; she read aloud with a mock-serious tone.
“Guide to Bellwether Flora.An Oral History of the Green Holdings. And…Mourning and Memorial in Bellwether.I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually check this one out.”
Her brow arched, amusement brightening her face. “Most people just borrow the bestsellers and forget about them for a month, you know.”
He offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “I’m on the Beltane Planning Committee this year, so I have a civic duty to do my homework. Especially with all the rumblings around the Green Holdings lately.”
Goldie’s brow lifted as she thumbed throughMourning and Memorial. “Rumblings? I must have missed that in the society pages.”
He let out a short, amused laugh. “Really? I suppose it’s all anyone in the civic loop talks about, but you get a bit numb to the drama when you live it day in and day out.”
He tapped his fingers on the worn cover of theOral History.“A few months ago, Ashenvale Ventures put in a formal offer to purchase the Holdings. Believe me, it’s stirred up more controversy on the Land Trust than a miscast Beltane bonfire.”
Goldie gestured vaguely with the book in her hand. “What does a corporate behemoth like Ashenvale Ventures even want with the Green Holdings? I mean, it’s adorable, don’t get me wrong—all those cute little artisan shops and the festival grounds—but it hardly seems like their usual target.”
The man shrugged, a wry, almost rueful smile touching his lips. “Oh, they don’t tell me the important details. I’m not nearly ‘Bellwether enough’ to have an actual say on Beltane planning, let alone get invited to the closed-door meetings where the real decisions are made.”
He gave a small sigh. “That’s the price of being a transplant, I suppose. So, I keep to my lane”—he gestured vaguely to the stacks of books—“which, for me, mostly means wading through the tedious parts of festival planning that no one else wants to touch. It’s the glamorous life of a junior committee member.”
A teasing smile played on Goldie’s lips. “Well, I’m impressed. It takes a certain kind of dedication to make civic planning sound appealing. It’s definitely not my usual scene.”
She tapped the final book’s spine, slow and deliberate, before sliding it into the returns bin. “So,” she ventured, letting the word coast on her breath, “if you’re on the Beltane committee, you must know Tamsin Donover. My coven leader. Tall.Terrifying. Cheekbones that could slice quartz. Owns a rotating collection of vintage caftans that never wrinkle?”
The man’s eyes sparked. “Tamsin? Oh yes. She’s quite something.”
Goldie grinned. “That’s a suspiciously diplomatic tone. Did she scare you or hex you? There’s no third option.”
The man laughed. “Let’s just say I respect her power. And her fashion sense.”
Goldie chuckled. “That’s fair. She once hexed a zoning officer for calling her ‘young lady.’ He still hiccups glitter.”
She finished checking in the last book and glanced at the screen. “You’ve got a fine,” she said, all business, then waved a dismissive hand before he could reach for his wallet. “But I’m feeling benevolent today.”
His smile spread, slow and warm. “I’ll try to be worthy of your mercy.”
The way he said it landed like a quiet promise, and Goldie felt an answering flutter low in her belly.
He adjusted his glasses, then extended a hand. “Jonah Pell. I should have led with that.”
