As she walks away, I shove a five-dollar bill into the mail slot at Wild Petal and pluck the flower Nora was smelling out of the bucket. We’re almost to The Attic on Whirr when I hand it to her.
“Did you steal that?” She asks as she absently breaks off most of the stem. “Bad boy.”
I smirk. “Got it the honest way. My best friend is the sheriff. No stealing on my watch.”
She tucks the flower in her hair behind her ear. Now, when I get close, I can smell the floral scent mixed with her shampoo. It’s nice. Really nice.
“Oh, wow,” Nora says as the bell jingles over her head. “Has this place always been here because, if so, Grandma never took me here.”
“It’s been here for about eight years,” I say as I follow her inside. “They used to be out near the winery before they jumped on this coveted location. Trust in the Cove Realty took over their old place.”
It was certainly better suited for my mom’s business than a growing antique story. The Attic on Whirr’s current location is two stories high and bigger than most of the other building around here. The sisters who own it have managed to stuff every single crevice in the place full of treasures they’ve accumulated over the years. It’s a little musty smelling and the dust can be intense at times, but it’s fun sifting through treasures of the past.
Which is exactly what we do.
We spend at least two hours combing every part of that store. The spice rack remains elusive, but Nora was able to find a shelving unit that can be repurposed. She found a nice quilt for her grandma’s bed and a few other items for decorating. By the time I fetch the truck and we load it up, we’re both in need of a rest.
“Bookstore time?” she asks, bouncing on her toes outside of the truck.
“I guess,” I grumble. “Can we get a coffee first? My reward for being a good sport?”
“Absolutely.”
When she grabs my hand, I stiffen. It’s warm and so small and soft. She does it so easily as if it’s the most natural thing todo. Me on the other hand? I am not used to this. The last girl’s hand I held was probably in high school. To say I don’t get out much and date is an understatement.
She tugs me across Wing Whirr Way over to Baked & Brewed. They’re pretty busy, so there’s no time for Hattie gossip. Once we’ve grabbed our coffees to go, we exit the chaos of the coffee shop and make our way next door to Preening Pages.
“If you don’t want to go in,” she says softly, eyes growing serious, “we don’t have to. I was teasing about your beef with the Harkers but based on what my grandma had to say about them, it was warranted. I just really love bookstores. It’s how I met Kayla.”
As much as I don’t enjoy mingling with Harkers, I do like seeing Nora smile. If books make her happy, I’ll swallow my pride and discomfort.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I climb up the steps to the front door and then pull it open for Nora. Her cheeks turn a cute shade of pink as she passes, mumbling her thanks. I’m not sure why holding a door open for her makes her act all weird, but I hope to find out one day.
It’s quiet in the bookstore which is nice considering it was straight insanity next door at the coffee shop. There are people shopping, but they’re mostly locals I know or recognize. The people who come here for BudgieFest are mostly interested in the budgies and any sort of merch they can remember this place by.
“What do you like to read?” I ask as we both stop to look at a table up front covered with thrillers.
“Not these,” she says and then squints as she looks around. “I like romance.”
When I arch an eyebrow at her, her cheeks blaze pink again. She rolls her eyes at me which has me grinning.
“At least I read.” She makes a sour face at me.
“I read,” I argue. “Cereal boxes in the kitchen. Shampoo bottles when I’m in the bathroom. Road signs when I’m driving.”
She shakes her head at me as if I’m too corny for her. It makes me chuckle.
All laughter dies down, though, when I see Clementine Harker pop up from behind a bookshelf. Our eyes meet and she regards me coldly. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Nora I’m going to sit in the truck, but she doesn’t let me get there.
“Hi,” Nora says, offering her a wave. “I’m new around here. Do you have any romance novels?”
Clementine, sensing a paying customer in her midst, turns up the charm and grins at her. “Extensive selection,” she says, motioning for Nora to follow her. “What do you like? I’m sure we have something for everyone.”
“I really like grumpy/sunshine books and enemies-to-lovers. You have any of those?”
I perk up because even though I don’t know what that exactly entails, I feel like it gives me hope for us.
