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“I don’t know. Maybe you falling head over heels for another stranger with a mysterious past?”
Del looked to the ceiling. Why did her sister have to be such a hopeless—albeit now skeptical—romantic? Then again, if dreaming up happily-ever-afters for everyone else helped keep her mind off her own hurts, then who was Del to dampen her spirits?
Because that’s all any of this chatter was—daydreams and fairy tales. And Del, for one, had neither the time nor the patience for such things. Not with a bookstore to save, a business to run, and her family and friends to take care of.
“Cut me some slack, will ya? That was so six years ago. Also, I think I learned my lesson on the last one.”
Mia took a long drink. “I sure hope so. Because trust me, the last thing I ever want to be again is the bearer of bad news.”
“And the last thingIwant is to be the recipient of more news like that.”
Memories of her dark, post-Jonathan days tried to surface but she pushed them away. That was ancient history now. Del had learned to keep the past in her rearview mirror and her focus on what lay ahead. Whether Isaac Manning was a part of that future, it was too soon to tell. Way too soon.
“And for the record, I haven’t been stalking the guy online,” Mia said. “Though, maybe with you spending more time over there, it’s time I start.”
Del rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you bother. Most of the stuff people put out there is made up anyway.”
“Maybe, but it’ll give me something to do when I need a break from lesson planning.”
Del snorted. “We need to find you a new hobby.”
“Don’t knock it—this hobby already saved your butt once.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Still, Del hoped her sister’s fascination with perusing online personas would one day fade. It just didn’t seem right, spying on people through the internet, making snap judgments based on posed pictures and contrived posts.
Del, on the other hand, preferred interacting with real people in real time. It was there that people got to really know one another. Hopefully, she’d learned from the mistakes of her past and become a better judge of character. Besides, it wasn’t like she was dating Isaac or anything. He was just a nice guy she was trying to help because it was the right thing to do. There wasn’t anything romantic about it—she’d have done the same for anyone in town.
Rather than argue the point, she let it go. If her sister wanted to play Sherlock online, more power to her. As for Del, she had more important things to do.
Like coming up with a way to save the family bookstore.
*
Isaac sat athis laptop the next morning, watching his mailbox cam and waiting for Del to arrive. Usually, he opted to sleep in on the weekends. But today he hadn’t been able to sleep, excitement from getting to spend the day with another human waking him before the alarm went off.
There were worries, too, of course. Worries about her asking too many questions. Worries about him getting tongue-tied and sounding like an idiot in front of her again. Hopefully, between the sunshine and the manual labor, she’d keep her questions to a minimum, and he’d keep his stories straight.
Just before nine, a now-familiar silver pickup pulled into his driveway, towing a Bobcat on a flatbed trailer. Del’s driver’s side window was down, her elbow perched on its ledge. She texted to say she was here, then killed the ignition and pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. Isaac met her a few moments later.
“You sure you want to be out here? It’s gonna be hot and sticky today.”
He smiled. Though he wasn’t a huge fan of either the heat or the humidity, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than out here with the woman he couldn’t seem to get off his mind. “Since I don’t see your sidekick today, I would think you’d be looking for all the help you can get.”
“You got that right,” Del said, pushing the door wide and climbing out of her cab. Her lavender scent tickled his nose as he took in her outfit: worn jean shorts and a yellow tank top advertising some chain, beachside restaurant. Both showed off her tanned features nicely.
“I totally forgot about her marching band practice,” she continued, oblivious to his perusal. “No way was she going to be able to get out of that.”
“Ah, yes, I remember those days.”
She arched a brow. “You were in the band?”
“I was. Marched two years as trumpet and two as mellophone. Wouldn’t trade those days for the world.” He grinned. Friday night football games. Saturday competitions. Late-night bus rides. Flirting with the alto saxes. “How about you?”
“Me? Nah, I didn’t do the band thing. My older sister did, though. She played the flutophone or something. I was there cheering for her at every home game though.”
“So, you were a cheerleader?”
“Heck no,” she scoffed. “I was there to watch the game and heckle the refs.”
