The fact that he knew the outlet strip was on Honeysuckle Street unnerved him enough.
He really wanted to finish this project and get out of Story before he got pulled into the illusion any further. This town did something to people—sucked them into a sugarcoated reality, just like they literally sugarcoated everything else.
The thought of sugar reminded him of Bri. Just when he thought they might be making progress in their working relationship, he had to smart off about an old friend of hers. Mr. Mac was apparently a town favorite—or maybe Bri just treated him like that. Come to think of it, she treated everyone who wandered into the bakery like a VIP.
Except him, of course.
He hadn’t meant to insult someone she cared about so deeply. Her defensive cut at the bank still throbbed a little. He’d pushed her too far, though, and he deserved it.
However, he wasn’t sure anyone deserved that crazy, middle-aged blonde woman in the bank. He shuddered. What was her name . . . Sally? Sandra. That was it. The unfortunate reality, though, was that, in his experience, characters like that usually turned out to be pretty useful later. It was sort of like playing the game he was playing with Charles—keep a poker face and your cards flat on the table until you know how it’s going to go.
He hadn’t made it this far in his life—or career—by trusting everyone who crossed his path.
Gerard nodded his acknowledgment to the science fiction section, making a mental note to come back and browse after he accomplished some thorough word count the next day on his feature. It’d be his reward for dumping this story on paper and being one step closer to heading back to Chicago—with a check for his mom in one hand and a well-deserved promotion in the other. Then he could write about politics and third-world finances and things that mattered.
He found a row of history books, not surprised at the small but overtly decorated endcap dedicated entirely to Story.
He scooped up the two books that looked semiuseful, blew a layer of dust off the first one, and tucked them under his arm. Maybe he could just stroll past the sci-fi real—
“I believe the theme of Pride and Prejudice was opposites attracting and producing a forever type of love.” A soft—and familiar—voice grabbed Gerard’s attention.
Bri?
He peered around another endcap featuring DIY home projects, not entirely sure why he cared whether it was her. And not sure why his heart raced at the idea that it might be. Probably wasn’t, though. What were the odds she’d be in the library on a random Thursday night?
But it was definitely her. She was sitting in a leather armchair in an open nook slightly off the library’s main floor. She had her legs pulled up under her, twirling one lock of hair around her finger as she spoke to a small, eclectic mix of people also in armchairs. Casey, the recently engaged friend, sat to Bri’s left.
“It’s like with my parents,” Bri continued. “My mom was the dedicated, loyal caretaker of the relationship, just like Elizabeth. She never stopped pursuing love. And my dad was more like Mr. Darcy—a bit more cynical by nature but easy to come around and adjust for the right woman.”
What? This was ridiculous.
A skinny guy in a plaid shirt and sandals adjusted his blue-framed glasses. “Yeah, I agree. Mr. Darcy was kind of harsh, and Elizabeth totally mellowed him out.”
“Come on! Did you even read the book?” Gerard burst into the circle before fully processing the decision.
Six sets of eyes jerked his way, Bri’s widening the most.
Bri stared at Gerard staring at her from the middle of the circle of chairs. He was like a pop-up book. Always at the bakery, then appearing at the bank . . . now he was intruding on book club?
She opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure which situation to address first—his accusation of her favorite novel or that he was there in the first place.
William didn’t give her time before coming to her defense. “Of course she did. We all did.”
“You, I can’t even deal with right now.” Gerard held up one hand to William before pointing at Bri. “You. Did you read the book?”
Bri stood to face him and crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands, her heart pounding a defensive rhythm. “I could quote the book.”
“You read the book? In your native language?” Gerard still hadn’t lowered his finger. “And you somehow still came away with that crazy theory?”
“I could have read it in French too.” She narrowed her eyes. “C’est une vérité universellement reconnue que—”
He grabbed the books tucked against his side and crossed his arms to imitate her, interrupting with the rest of the novel’s famous opening line. “Un homme célibataire en possession d’une bonne fortune doit avoir besoin d’une femme.”
Bri gasped and her arms fell to her side. Gerard knew Pride and Prejudice?
“I’m a world traveler, Cupcake. You want to go Italian next?”
The library briefly tilted around her, and anger sparked in her chest. He had the nerve to invade her personal space and then call her out in front of her entire group? He was rude and unnecessary—this gesture perhaps the rudest of them all. Just because he came to try to smooth things over at the bank earlier didn’t give him an open invitation into her life.
Especially if he was coming to commandeer it.
She glared. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Next to her, Casey wiggled in her seat, grinning and turning to hang her legs over the side of her chair. She looked like all she needed was popcorn as
