Leah
It was strange how a change of tone between two people could change the way you felt about other significant things, including yourself. When Luke came into the Sandy Page just before opening the next morning, he appeared friendly as usual. Not even Brad could tell the difference, and that was saying something. But Leah could. From the moment he stepped inside her senses bristled to attention. “I’ve got the paint sample for the supply units, if you want to take a quick look,” he said as he breezed in.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she said trying to catch his gaze, decipher any hurt feelings or strange new awkwardness. But there was no chance. Luke strode ahead of her to the back.
“Coral Reef, Ben Moore, correct?” He held out the paint can, label up, for her confirmation.
“Correct,” she said, glumly. The fresh formality to their exchange stung, but what did she expect? She watched as he pried the lid off the can. Even unmixed, the color was beautiful, theexact coral-red pop she’d wanted for the otherwise white workspace. She watched the paint swirl together with the stirrer in Luke’s hand, imagining the rousing of her own mixed emotions.
He painted a section of scrap wood and held it up. “What do you think?” he asked, turning it to and fro in the light.
She had to stand close to him to inspect the color. When he turned to gauge her reaction, there was no evidence of hurt or hard feelings in his expression, but gone was the playful twinkle in his eye.
She forced her gaze to the coral paint. “It’s perfect for the cubbies. Thank you.”
“Alright then.” She stood to the side as he resealed the can and tidied up.
“Luke—”
“I’ll get the units painted and let you know when I’ll be back to install,” he interjected.
So that was it. No mention of the night before. “Did you happen to bring an updated bill?” she asked. All along their working relationship had drawn from their friendship, easy, fluid. To the point she’d had to press him for bills. If he had brought one this morning, would that confirm that it was pure business between them now?
He shook his head. “No, but I can drop one off later.”
“Thanks. I’d like to get you another payment, especially since this is a new project.”
This time he did not object. “Sure thing.” Then, with a quick wave he was out the door again.
“So you’ve got the poor man working weekends again,” Brad mused when she made her way back out to the storefront. “He must really love books.” He was reorganizing the front table to make room for new releases. That week everyone was anticipating a new book from a favorite author, creating a fun buzz among the staff: Brad for John Green, Leah for Sarah Addison Allen, and Lucy for Sarah J. Maas. Leah watched him fuss over the display, but her head was elsewhere. “Hello?” Brad waved. “You missed my dig.”
“Sorry.” Leah went to help herself to a cup of coffee. “Didn’t sleep well.” When Luke had dropped her off after their beach picnic last night, she’d gone home freshly depressed in a way she hadn’t felt since she first came home. After this morning’s interaction, she felt even worse. “How did the date with the lobster sweater go?” she asked. She needed a change of subject before Brad began asking questions.
“You mean Ethan.” Brad glanced up from the beach reads table looking like he might blush, which was so unlike him. “Thankfully he did not wear the lobster sweater. He did, however, exceed expectations.”
The news boosted her spirits. Like hers, Brad’s life that summer seemed to revolve around the shop. At least one of them needed a personal life. “I’m happy to hear that! So… What’s his story?”
He set down the Steven Rowley title he was holding. “Just because we’re in a bookshop doesn’t mean everything is astory.”
“Maybe you just don’t want to tell it yet.” Lucy wandered past. “Has anyone seen my tea party hat? The kids will be heresoon. Kids always show up early.” Leah realized Lucy was looking about as happy as she felt.
“Check the back closet,” she suggested, wondering if Lucy was just nervous. It was hard to tell with her. “And don’t worry, we’ll hold them off until you’re ready.” She looked pointedly at Brad. “Back to you. Spill the tea.”
“Didn’t you store that hat behind the register?” Brad wondered aloud. She followed him to the counter where he crouched down and feigned looking for the hat.
“Stop switching the subject.”
Despite the put-upon face he made, she could sense he was secretly dying to dish on his date. “Fine, dinner was elegant. Conversation flowed.” He paused. “I swear I saw you put the hat somewhere back here.”
“Details?” she pressed. She was not going to let Brad get out of it so easily. He would never do the same for her.
“Ethan’s two years older than me and works as an urban designer. Belongs to a cycling club.” He looked up from his search to roll his eyes. “I loathe biking. But at least he’s fit.”
Leah leaned on the counter, listening. “Gainfully employed and socially functional. Where from?”
Brad disappeared behind the counter and the rummaging continued. “As predicted he’s a tourist, but it turns out he lives outside Boston. Works for city hall.”
“You live in Boston.”
