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But all’s well that ends well, she had congratulated herself then, and it was only when Frankie had already collected the e-signatures of both parties and the address of Thornton’s bookshop sent via text to Blake that she realized one gross oversight.
Did…Thornton Blackwood…just refer…to Blake…as…him?
Blake noticed the way Frankie seemed lost in thought as her friend mechanically shoved forkfuls of salad into her mouth while her expression grew increasingly peevish. “I know that look.”
Frankie glanced up, startled by the words. “Huh?”
“We have truffle in our salad, and you don’t look like you’re enjoying it one bit. That only means one thing,” Blake concluded smugly. “You, my friend, were once again thinking about my beloved—”
Frankie started gagging, and Blake burst into laughter.
“Bleeeeeeh.” Frankie was genuinely revolted at the mere idea of Blake and Thornton dating, much less becoming a couple that called each other ‘beloved’. “And I wasn’t thinking about him. It was more like recalling a traumatic memory about him—”
“You know he’s not that bad,” Blake protested.
“He is,” Frankie retorted. “Everyone knows he is! You’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”
“Frankie!” But Blake’s tone was one of laughing admonishment. “You do remember that you’re the one who told me about this job, right? I mean, you should never have told me to apply in the first place—”
“I wasn’t thinking straight at that time,” Frankie defended herself, “And—” Her voice lowered into a mutter. “I didn’t really think he’d hire you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Blake said dryly, but the dig just went over her friend’s head.
“How did you get him to hire you anyway?” Frank couldn’t help prying. “You never really told me.”
Blake gave her friend a coy smile. “A lady never tells—”
It was as if her friend was suggesting that she had seduced—
No. Yuck. Ugh. Just no.
Blake grinned when Frankie started gagging again. She knew what her friend was thinking, but actually…
Chapter Two
Seven weeks ago
Blake felt like pinching herself the moment she saw what could be her future workplace. Although moonlight wasn’t enough to give Hartland Books justice, what she saw was more than enough to make her heart skip a beat.
The enchantingly quaint signage and the old-school bricks, and then there was the bulletin corkboard behind a glass panel: stepping close to it, Blake saw that the Instax sheets pinned to them were Instagram photos featuring famous literary quotes.
Whoever owned this place clearly loved books as much as she did, and the knowledge buoyed her spirits. It was like finding a rose in the midst of winter, and Blake’s anxiety over Amanda faded just a little bit more once she entered the shop. More marvelously beautiful sights greeted her: the ceiling-high bookshelves, the gorgeous first-edition tomes displayed in one corner, and the reading nook in another.
It was like being transported to a bookish slice of heaven, and all she could do was stare and stare and stare—
“We’re closed.”
The words startled Blake, and as soon as her head jerked up, her gaze automatically clashed with a pair of onyx black eyes.
Oh my gosh.
A man stood behind the counter, tall, dark, and with a lean, hard build that his denim buttoned-up shirt and jeans only served to accentuate. He had the longish, raven locks of a Regency rake, the piercing eyes of a pirate, and the cruelly sensual lips of a poet.
Growing up, she had heard, seen, or read people saying that ‘love at first sight’ wasn’t real, and because there were so many of them, it was the one thing Blake, despite being a hopeless romantic, had never allowed herself to believe in. True love was real. Second-chance love was possible. But love at first sight?
Never.
Until—
“Miss?”
—this moment, in which her dream man come to life was staring at her like she was a couple of bricks shy of a load.
Oops.
Blake quickly moved forward, eager to rectify his less-than-stellar first impression on her. “Mr. Blackwood?”
Instead of answering, Dream Guy asked mildly, “Who are you?”
“I’m Blake Golding, Mr. Blackwood. Frankie told me you were looking for a shop assistant and—”
“I didn’t realize you were female.”
“I…” His interruption had her blinking in distraction. There was something about the way he spoke – or rather, the way he drawled each word out, like he had all the time in the world to speak. It reminded her of something, no, someone—
“Oh my gosh!”
Shock-proof. It was how his brothers often jokingly referred to Thornton, every time they tried pranking him…and failed. Nothing ever surprises you anymore, Ethan liked to grumble. Even if someone tells you the world would end in the next minute, I’d bet you’d go about calmly sipping your coffee while you plan to survive the apocalypse.
While the joke never failed to crack his brothers up, Thornton privately felt it was a little too close to the truth. Everything was too damn predictable these days – had been so for years, and it was why he had been sold on the spot once he found out what Hartland Initiative meant to accomplish.
