Page 61 of The Bookshop By the Loch

He continued to sit there, looking at me from out of the driver’s side. He made no attempt to drive off. “Lexie…”

“Yes?”

My breathing sped up. Oh God. What was he about to say?

Tobias drank in my expression. He sat up straighter, his muscles tensing under his T-shirt.

An array of emotions crossed his stubbled face. My heart sped up. Then he sunk back in his seat. The moment evaporated. “Have a good evening.”

I blinked back at him, disappointment stabbing at me. “What? Oh. Yes. Of course. Right. You too.”

My deflated reflection smudged against the windows of his car. So, he hadn’t been about to say something momentous then. I must’ve imagined it.

“See you tomorrow?” he called out, leaning across to get my attention from the open passenger side window. “I know it’s a bank holiday, so I wasn’t sure what you’d be doing.”

I rearranged my mouth into a bright smile, even though my heart felt like a deflated balloon. “I’ll be opening for a few hours. Might be able to capitalise on a few day trippers.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He slipped his sunglasses back on and performed a casual wave. “See you tomorrow then. Bye, Lexie.”

I stood for a moment on the warmed pavement, the lazy late afternoon sunshine glancing off his disappearing Land Rover.

I let myself into Mum’s house with my spare key. Once I got myself sorted out, I knew I’d have to think about getting my own place. There were rumours the flat above the greetings card shop was going to be put up for sale, because the current owner was emigrating to New Zealand.

I enjoyed being fussed over by Mum and Grandpa, but they needed their own space like I did.

I dumped my bag in the hall, thinking about Tobias and what had happened – or not happened – just now. I was sure he was about to say something to me.

No. My imagination was playing tricks on me.

Had I been hoping he would ask me out?

I dismissed the notion. No. No. Not at all. We worked alongside one another. Not a good idea. Much better to remain acquaintances.

Nevertheless, I tried to ignore my gnawing disappointment. “I’m back,” I called out to Mum and Grandpa. “Sorry I’m a bit later than planned.”

I kicked off my ballet pumps and placed Celeste’s book down on the kitchen table.

I was greeted by a delicious waft of cooking roast chicken and the surprising sight of Rhiannon, her bob scraped back from her face in a stubby ponytail, lashing potatoes with oil.

Mum and Grandpa had been despatched to the sitting room by Rhiannon.

“I’m cooking dinner for all of us.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “That smells wonderful and thank you. But what have you done with Rhiannon?”

Rhiannon glided the roasting dish back into the oven and closed the door, waggling one oven glove. “Sunday roast is about the only thing I can cook, as Guy used to enjoy reminding me, so I expect you to eat every last scrap on your plate.”

Guy Chambers was Rhiannon’s social influencer ex-husband. He was also a motivational speaker and happened to be published by Literati.

“Yes, Mum.”

She smiled and tugged off both oven gloves. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding her head at Celeste’s manuscript.

Before I could answer, her features lit up like a Christmas tree. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What?”

“That. A manuscript?”