“Nah. You go have fun.”
I nod because this is no. Big. Deal.
“Think about the online orders.” As if that’s a natural follow-up. “I bet it would minimize how much you have to interact with customers.”
“Intriguing.” He flattens his mouth. “But we’re not doing it.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually.” I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach up to gently pat him on the cheek. I learn twothings at once: his beard is softer than I imagined, and his pupils can blow wide in a fraction of a second.
My heart stumbles in my chest like it’s not properly secured in there. If I leaned in now, I don’t think the goodbye hug I imagined a minute ago would stay just a hug anymore. Pretending I don’t notice his eyes darkening like a romance novel hero’s, I make my escape.
Just as I open the door to leave, he murmurs, “That’s the problem.”
16
rose
I showedup extra early to craft night. I usually do because I don’t like the looks I get when I’m late to things. Tonight, I tack on ten minutes more. It only seems right to respect the time and effort Pamela, the librarian in charge of adult activities, puts into each month’s craft. My early start is purely out of reverence and appreciation for the librarian arts.
And maybe a tiny bit because my skin’s still buzzing from my afternoon with Reed, and I need the distraction before I combust. I shouldn’t let myself get so fluttery over him—this is what I signed up for, after all. I specifically covered the possibility of PDA when we talked about the ground rules for our fake relationship.
But up until today, our affectionate displays have gone one way: me latching myself onto him. He’s been a mostly passive, semi-unwilling participant. The hug last night was private and due to unusual circumstances. Those circumstances being me acting like a crazy woman. But touching me of his own free will in public today—even if it was just his thumb—seems monumental.
Maybe we need more practice with…thumbs. Fingers. Hands. All of that. So I won’t get quite so flustered next time he initiates something. It’d be pretty embarrassing if he touches me and my knees go so weak I fall over in front of his family. Think of the optics.
Yes. The optics are why we need to practice.
I help Pamela distribute stained glass paint among the tables already topped with butcher paper, trying not to imagine practicing anything with Reed. I’m failing spectacularly.
“Rose?”
I look up to see the blond woman who was in the coffee shop earlier standing in the project room doorway. She’s changed into a T-shirt and shorts, but I’m sure it’s her. I recognize the beach waves I was so jealous of this afternoon. “Cassie!”
“Hello again.” She comes closer, looking over the tables covered in paints, brushes, and dollar store picture frames. “Do you work at the library, too?”
“No. I just got here early.” No reason why. “Are you here for craft night?”
“That’s the plan.” She leans closer, dropping her voice. “I was expecting a younger age range for this.”
Adult craft night tends to lure in a specific demographic. Most of the women in here probably go by “Nana” now.
“Come sit with me.” I lead her to the front of the room, and we take over one of the folding tables. A few more women file in, all roughly twice our age.
“So, the library isn’t where people in their thirties go to meet up in Sunshine?” Cassie asks with a wry smile.
“That’s probably the Stumpjumper. It’s the nicest bar in town. Or Delish, the diner. Everyone hangs out there like it’s our second home. The burgers are amazing, and the owners are kind of everyone’s honorary aunts.”
“Good to know.” She shuffles the printed images in the middle of the table, neatening the stack only to fan it out again in a perfect display. “It’s harder to meet people in a small town than Hallmark movies have led me to believe.”
“Don’t start doubting now. I’m sure a rugged Christmas tree farm owner is right around the corner for you.”
Cassie laughs. “And he’s secretly a prince hiding out from an arranged marriage.”
“But it turns outyou’resecretly from the royal line he was supposed to marry into, and you never knew.”
She gives me an impressed look. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve watched a lot of Hallmark movies.”
