Page 23 of Bear and Book

“It was,” I said. “Until it wasn’t.”

Leo’s gaze was steady, but not invasive. “Because of Jason?”

I hated that his name could still make something in my chest pull tight.

“I thought we’d both be happier,” I admitted.

“And you weren’t?” Leo asked.

“Not at all,” I answered, not wanting to elaborate further but Leo thankfully didn’t push.

We worked in silence after that, though I found myself more aware of him than the books in front of me. It was dangerous, letting myself want this again. Want him.

Dangerous, because I knew exactly what happened when I let someone in too far. The way it hollowed you out when they finally walked away.

But still, my fox stirred at the thought of him, bright-eyed and restless, insisting this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass.

I told myself it was just the warmth he brought into the room, the way he made the shop feel alive again. But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was in the curve of his shoulders as he bent over a shelf, the flex of his hands around a screwdriver, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

I was noticing him in ways I had no business noticing.

When Leo packed up to leave, I cleared my throat to keep my voice steady and asked, “Are you coming by again tomorrow?”

His grin lit something low in my chest. “Of course. I’m here all week. I signed up for all the shifts.”

I stood there, trying not to stare as he headed for the door, the scent of warm pastry and sawdust trailing in his wake.

The bell jingled softly as it closed behind him, and I was left staring at his retreating back through the glass. I was stunned, but secretly, shamefully glad.

Chapter 7

Elias

The idea of “Support Our Shops” Day sounded good in theory. For other people. For me, it sounded like a migraine.

When the mayor stopped by two days ago, clipboard in hand and an overly bright expression plastered across her face, I tried every excuse I could think of.

I was still sorting stock. The building still smelled faintly of mildew. I didn’t even have a tent or a table to put outside. She countered each one with alarming efficiency.

The town had pop-up booths for anyone without proper equipment. Volunteers to help carry stock. A waiver on the booth fee for storm-affected businesses.

By the time she was done smiling at me, I was too tired to argue. And by “too tired,” I mean she wore me down like the tide on a rock.

I hadn’t known then that “volunteers” apparently meant Leo.

“Good morning, Elias!” Leo called the next day, too loud and too cheerful for the hour.

He appeared in my doorway with a folding table under one arm, a crate of books balanced on the other, and an irresistible grin.

“Ready for the big day?” Leo asked.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Perfect,” he said, like that was exactly the answer he’d been hoping for. “Let’s go.”

That’s how I found myself trudging after him down Main Street. I came loaded with a box of my least fragile paperbacks and an old cash box.