“Oh,” he said. He sounded disappointed. Which was elating. He also sounded as if he had not even considered the possibility she might have a life here in Timber Falls. Which was insulting.
He made her life complicated without even trying, she thought grumpily.
“Go to Henry’s for supper,” she told him. “They have the best burger in town. And try the B and B on First Street. I bet they’ll let you check in without ID.”
“As they should. I’m a completely trustworthy person.”
“Ha. Tell that to someone who wasn’t offered a fake job by you.”
“We need to talk about that. Obviously it—”
She realized he was engaging her, even though she had decided not to be engaged by him. “Tomorrow at ten,” she interrupted him, and then broke into a jog down the familiar trail, literally leaving him in her dust.
That night, lying in her bed, sleepless, because she knew he was just down the street—probably had charmed the socks off all the local girls at Henry’s tonight—she warned herself against feeling the way she did.
Alive. Tingling with the delight of having seen him again, the anticipation of spending the day with him tomorrow.
I am falling in love with him, she realized, shocked. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, certainly it was not the cozy-as-a-comfortable-shoe feeling she had had with Devon. It felt as if he was air, as if she needed him in order to breathe.
It seemed imperative that he not know this. She had already let it slip once that she was infatuated with him, but now she had to keep this secret to herself. He could never know she regretted not joining him for dinner.
In her head she made a complete schedule for him for the next day: he could lead story time, send emails to people she had tracked down books that she thought might interest them, play chess with the Court Chessters in the afternoon. Serendipitously, the Smitten Word met here tomorrow night, and he could be the guest speaker. She’d surprise him with that one.
Professionally, she’d throw everything she had at him in hopes it would keep the personal stuff at bay!
CHAPTER TEN
“I LOOKED UP books last night,” Jamie told her in the morning. “Truck in the Muck is a current favorite of the under-five set. Have you got that?”
She slid him a look. He was dressed in jeans. That was a first. And a casual shirt, also a first. If he had any lingering trepidation at all about leading story time, it did not show now. He was, obviously, one of those highly adaptable people, who could rise to any challenge. He looked extraordinarily handsome—and at home—in her space.
He was also freshly shaven, and she could smell soap and aftershave, and it made her feel as if she had been drinking champagne. So much for keeping the personal stuff at bay!
She realized her bookstore—her safe place, her hidey-hole in all the world—was never going to feel the same.
But, in fact, it hadn’t felt the same since she had returned from New York, anyway.
He also looked rested, not as though he had tossed and turned, and wondered endlessly what to wear today!
She had chosen casual, because really she did not have much to choose from. She longed for her dress with the poppies on it, but settled for a knit tank top and capris.
“I have it. You can’t read that one, though. I bring in a dozen copies of the book we read at story time and today’s story is How Do You Do, Suzie Q?”
“A dozen?”
“Some of the moms who come today will buy one for their own child, or to put away for a gift for later, or for the book bag.”
“The book bag?”
“Not every family in Timber Falls can afford a brand-new book, and so I created the book bag. You buy one book for yourself, and another to donate that will find its way to a child who is in need.”
“You know all the kids in town?”
“No, of course not. But as the idea caught on, people tell me, in confidence, which kids might be struggling a bit. They’ll slip me a note, or call anonymously. So-and-so has a birthday coming up. Or not much under the Smith family tree this year for Christmas. Or John Doe has been invited to a birthday party, and his mom can’t afford for him to bring a present.”
He stared at her for a long time. “It’s brilliant. But it’s more.”
She cocked her head at him.
“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “It’s like feeding the homeless, only better. Feeding minds and souls instead of bodies.”
“You’re making too much of it.”
He looked at her steadily. “I don’t think I am.”
And she felt herself blushing as though he had said, not that her idea was beautiful, but that she was beautiful.
Because he was looking at her as if she was.
Thankfully, Phillip Morrison chose that moment to burst through the door, having freed himself of his mother. She would never tell Jamie—or anyone else—but his mom was a struggling single parent, and he was one of those kids who benefited from the book bag.
“Could we have Truck in the Muck today?” he asked, his voice loud, his eyes already darting around looking for things to wreck. Thankfully, she had done her best to Phillip-proof the kids section.
“A kindred spirit,” Jamie said in an undertone to Jessica.
“Who are you?” Phillip demanded.
“You can call me Jamie. I’m reading the story today.”
“I want Truck in the Muck,” Phillip said, his voice getting shrill.
Jamie contemplated him for a moment, and then sank onto his heels so he could look the little boy right in the eye. “That’s what I want, too,” he said in a confidential tone. “Tell you what, if you will be my assistant for the first story, we will have two stories today.”
Jamie had been here five minutes, and he was changing the rules. And yet, as she watched, a small light came on
