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“Thank you,” she says, her grin adding more creases to her already creased face. She once told me she doesn’t regret a single one of them. That each and every one of them represents a memory of a time in her life that was either happy or sad, and a life without memories wouldn’t be a life worth living. I can only hope that one day, I’ll be able to accept the loss of my youth with such grace. She’s a tiny woman, but I’m sure the saying “dynamite comes in small packages” was coined specifically for her. “Heather is a magician with those scissors of hers,” she continues, cupping her hand and gently patting the curls on the back of her head.
“Well, I’m glad you like her. What can I do for you today?”
“Can you recommend something along the lines of the last book I got?”
“Sure. What was it again?”
“The Highlander’s trophy bride,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Ah, now I remember. The eighties body ripper. She looked scandalized and insisted I bag it before walking out of the shop.
Rounding the counter, I lead her to the appropriate shelves. After about thirty minutes, she’s back with two books clutched close to her chest. I ring it up and bag it without asking this time.
“When you’re done reading them, return them, and I’ll give you a credit towards your next purchases.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Ruth’s reading it, and after that, Agnes is going to give it a spin. Not sure I’m ever getting it back,” she mutters.
“So they’re a hit, huh?” I ask, trying to hide my smile.
She leans forward, grabbing the bag, a cheeky smile on her face. “You know what they say, there may be snow on the rooftop, but there is a fire in the furnace.”
I’m still chuckling as she walks out of the shop, a spring in her step. “As it should be, Fiona, as it should be.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KALLAN
TAKING Adeep breath, I open the door to Chantler and Cook, determined not to make an ass of myself like yesterday. I took a bit longer to get ready this morning. It’s the usual jeans and T-shirt, but instead of grabbing the first clean ones, I took my time deciding what to wear. The fact that my shirt is a pale green and closely resembles the color of her eyes is totally accidental. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
It took me about ten minutes—and a handful of the product I bought from the barber yesterday—to tame my normally unruly hair. I was impatient to get going, and Andrew must have seen that because he scrambled the last few steps and jumped into the truck faster than normal. I completely ignored the side-eye he gave me when he finally got in, and he wisely kept silent. But his eyes were on me most of the way to the shop, his silence brimming with questions. We were early, but I loitered in the front, arranging and rearranging our displays, keeping an eye out for whiskey girl. I really needed to find out her name. Maybe then, I would feel less like a stalker.
By the time 8:30 rolled around, I finally spotted her. Everything around me stilled as my eyes zeroed in on her. She was wearing jeans that molded to her curves, and her long hair was a shock of liquid chocolate against the white, flowy top with long sleeves and a v-neck with buttons down the front. I watched as she unlocked the door and felt a strange sense of loss when it closed behind her.
Andrew’s muttered “light bulb” drew my attention away, and I turned, finding his eyes zeroed in on me. He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to spout some more shit, but I cut him off before he could.
“Not a word,” I said, pointing at him, hoping for once my scowl would be enough to deter any unwanted questions or opinions. I should have known better.
He waited for a few beats—just long enough to make sure I was out of striking range—as I walked to the back before shouting, “It’s about time, old man.”
*****
Forcing my hand from running through my hair, I scratch my cheek instead while taking a moment to take in the place as if a feel of it will give me a feel of her. It’s bigger than I thought it would be. The cafe part is on the left-hand side, with one of those industrial coffee machines and under-counter bakery-style display cases showcasing pastries and sandwiches. The right side is lined with shelves filled with books. In fact, every available space is filled with shelves, ceiling-height ones lining the walls, and waist-high ones forming barriers between the wooden bistro tables and chairs scattered around the store.
Right at the back is the counter with the cash register, and that’s where my eyes stay because she’s standing behind it, staring at me with a slight frown. It’s wrong. I don’t want her to frown when she sees me. I want her to smile, so I fix a smile on my face, push down my heart racing in my chest, and walk up to her with all the confidence I can muster.
“Hi.” My smile falters slightly at the crack in my voice.Fuck, Kallan, don’t mess up a second time.“We bumped into each other yesterday, and I wanted to come and introduce myself.”
“Yes, hi,” she says, her head cocked slightly and her eyes narrowed on me.
“I own the shop across the road, The Wood Room.” Her eyes follow my arm to where I’m vaguely gesturing behind me, not willing to let my eyes leave her.
“Ah, so you’re my new neighbor.” I feel a bit of relief as the tightness around her eyes lessens. There’s still hope that I can salvage a bit of this situation.
“Yeah. I wanted to come to apologize for almost plowing you over yesterday. I was on my way over to grab a coffee and was in a rush, so I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m sorry for being a bit of an ass. The opening has been hectic, and too few hours of sleep and not enough coffee has been kicking my ass. I’m not usually such an idiot.”
I watch in fascination as the last of the tightness around her eyes disappears, and her lips tip up in a smile that reaches all the way up and takes residence in her eyes. Fuck, the way they sparkle almost knocks me on my ass.
“No apology needed. As you can see, no bodily harm was incurred in our derailment. I’m Bailey.” She sticks out her hand, and I envelop it in my much larger one. It feels small and fragile, and I have to force my thumb to keep still. Seems it has a mind of its own and is determined to find out if her honey skin is as soft as it looks. But that would be just creepy.
