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Still, as I step around her and join Rudy, my shoulders soften.
The store is deeper than it is wide, with three rows of bookshelves arranged lengthwise from the front of the store to the back. The thousands of books are mostly arranged like a normal bookstore. I say mostly, because there are signs denoting various genres, but the political thrillers are next to the cookbooks, and the spy novels are on the other side of the shop next to the steamy romance section. The children’s books, for some reason, are arranged by color instead of by author name, which almost looks like it was done at some point in the past and no one ever bothered to change it back. One whole shelf is empty, and I’m guessing it’s as a result of Rudy’s performance today.
In the depths of the bookstore, two large, soft, leather-clad wingback chairs are arranged around a small table, which Rudy moved back into place after story time. It would be an inviting place to sit and read a book, if Agnes didn’t make a habit of sitting behind the cashier’s desk like a dragon guarding her gold.
I follow Rudy through the stacks to the front of the store. We definitely could have grabbed a copy from the massive display set up with the newest thriller from Lee Child, but I stand in front of the counter as he reaches into a cubby below. He pulls out a copy of the book.
“You really did set one aside for me,” I say, then give a pointed glance to the table laden with hundreds of copies of the same book behind me.
Rudy grins. “You never know when a stampede of readers will come through and pick us clean.” His long, masculine fingers brush the front of the book, smoothing over a yellow sticky note with my name on it. For some reason, the thought of him writing Iliana Viceroy on a sticky note, asking my sister for my phone number, and making sure to set this book aside makes my insides melt. I watch him peel the sticky note off the glossy cover before pushing the book across the counter to me. “Here. Take it.”
I reach for my purse, careful not to disturb my pamphlets, and pull out my wallet.
Rudy shakes his head. “I already paid for it. It’s my gift for all the business you’ve given us over the past couple of weeks.”
“Oh,” I answer, too shocked to answer properly. I don’t remember the last time someone bought me a gift without an occasion. “Thank you.”
His hand moves back over the book, and a gleam enters his eyes. “There is a condition, though.”
“Here we go,” I say, arching a brow. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that a gift with conditions isn’t a gift at all?”
“She’s right!” Agnes’s voice calls out from the front of the bookstore.
Rudy laughs. It’s a warm sound that sends a thrill rushing through my middle. His eyes grow serious as he leans his strong, narrow hips against the counter. Even with Agnes apparently able to hear everything, his closeness still makes me forget we’re not alone. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
His voice is low, intimate—and having dinner with him is a bad, bad idea.
What I should do is reach into my purse, open my wallet, and pay for the book myself. I should thank Rudy for the offer, but tell him I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.
I just came from my obstetrician’s office, for crying out loud. I’m going to be having a baby in thirty-one weeks or less. Not only that, but there’s my second secret sitting like a hot coal in my chest.
I haven’t even told my family about any of it! Not the baby, not the other stuff.
Getting involved with a man would be such a bad idea, it’s not even funny. Dating is so far off the table, it’s not even in the same neighborhood. Pretty soon, I’m going to be a forty-year-old single mother…if I’m lucky.
Rudy leans forward, his palms resting against the counter in a way that makes the muscles on his arms pop. His eyes are brilliant blue, and laughter dances in them as his lips curl into a smile. “Come on, Lily. One meal. No strings attached. If you don’t enjoy yourself, you never have to speak to me again.”
“That’s the problem,” I hear myself saying. “I think I might enjoy myself too much.”
Rudy’s smile widens and damn him, but he looks too good to resist right now. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“Do you have a thing for older women?” I blurt.
Rudy tilts his head.
“First Fiona, then my sister Candice, and now me? Are you just trying to work your way through the Four Cups Café ladies in record time or something?”
Rudy grins, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fiona and I never did anything. As I recall, all I ever did was ask her if she wanted a tour of Heart’s Cove when she first arrived.” He moves around the counter and drops his voice. “Candice and I went on one date, we had a chaste after-dinner kiss, and we went our separate ways. Amicably. I’m quite sure she’s moved on, as have I.” He takes one more half-step toward me, his toes brushing mine, chest only inches from my own. “Does any of that bother you?”
Ugh. Of course it doesn’t bother me. How am I supposed to resist him when he’s so damn irresistible?
When Rudy reaches over to grasp my hand and give it a squeeze, I can feel my resolve crumbling. So, rising from the ruins of my defenses, I make a decision.
One meal won’t hurt. Maybe this is a good thing! Maybe Rudy can be my one final hurrah, one last tryst before my life changes forever.
He said it himself: no strings attached.
What if I just indulged, for once? What if I go out to dinner with him, maybe enjoy a chaste kiss of my own, and lock that memory away somewhere precious? Why do I feel like I have to deny myself things that please me?
