Page 16 of Bear and Book

Except it wasn’t. Not really. Because I was here for him and I really, really wanted him to know it.

Chapter 5

Elias

I debated locking the doors.

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to me before. The shop didn’t exactly get a steady stream of customers, especially not after the storm, but usually I kept it open anyway.

Habit, I supposed. But that morning, I stood in the middle of the store with my arms crossed, glaring at the sign-up form I’d filled out yesterday for “post-storm assistance.”

A moment of weakness. That’s all it had been. A half-hour before closing, when my shoulders ached from moving wet boxes of paperbacks.

I’d scribbled my name on the clipboard the town council had dropped off. They’d said volunteers could come by to help with repairs, lifting and reorganizing.

I should’ve known sunny and energetic Leo would show up.

Ever since he first entered my shop, my fox acknowledged he could be special to us, though I wasn’t planning to acknowledge that particular complication.

I could still take down the sign. Lock the doors. Pretend I was out back in storage if he knocked. It wouldn’t even be lying, exactly.

But before I could act on any of those perfectly reasonable escape strategies, there was a knock on the glass, and there he was.

Leo was wearing a worn navy t-shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off forearms I did not look at for more than two seconds.

In one hand, he carried a small wooden toolbox. In the other, a paper bag that was already making the air between us smell like sugar, butter, and something tart. Lemons, I realized.

Of course. He brought muffins.

“Morning!” Leo said, beaming like the storm clouds had never existed. “I come bearing carbs and tools. Figured one of them had to be useful.”

I should have told him to go help someone else. There were plenty of shops still struggling after the flood. Places where his ridiculous energy would be far better suited.

Instead, I stepped back from the door and said, “Well, come on, then.”

Leo grinned like I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “Yes, boss.”

I tried not to roll my eyes too obviously.

We spent the first hour in something that passed for a routine. I sorted through the damp boxes that had been stacked near the window, moving anything salvageable onto the counter to dry.

Leo busied himself with one of the leaning bookshelves near the back.

Or at least, he tried to look busy. Every few minutes, I caught him sneaking glances at me, then pretending to measure something that didn’t need measuring.

At one point, Leo “accidentally” dropped a nail just so he could crouch down near the table where I was working.

“So,” he said casually, while picking it up. “What’s your favorite book in the shop?”

I gave him a look. “That’s like asking a baker what their favorite bread is.”

Leo grinned. “Exactly. You’ve gotta have one.”

I hesitated, then nodded toward the high shelf behind the counter. “Top left, near the window. First edition of The Moonlit Garden.”

“Romance?” he asked, sounding far too delighted by that revelation.

“It’s literature,” I corrected. “And it’s staying on that shelf until someone appreciates it properly.”