Much Ado About You

“I’ve got people to cover me . . . I’ve just not seen the need to for a while.”

That was miserable. Roane deserved better than to be working 24/7. “Well, I’m glad to give you an excuse to relax. Roane, you need to take better care of yourself. Everyone needs a day off.”

He grunted as only men can grunt, and I couldn’t decide if that was an agreement grunt or an “it is what it is” grunt.

“Where’s Shadow?” I changed the subject.

“He’s with Caro. I didn’t want to leave him in the car when we go to the supermarket. I’ll pick him up after tea.”

I nodded and we lapsed into comfortable silence as I watched the beautiful countryside pass us by.

“I was thinking I could take you to Barter Books before we go to the supermarket.”

My eyes lit up. “Ooh. A bookstore?”

Smiling, possibly at my utter nerdiness, Roane replied, “Not just any bookstore. It’s a used bookstore inside the old Alnwick railway station. It’s famous round here.”

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Roane Robson.”

“See, from any other woman that could be construed as sarcasm, but I think you actually mean it.”

“I do.” I chuckled. “Books are life.”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to flash me that teasing smile of his, and I pretended not to feel the effects of it in places a friend shouldn’t.

* * *

• • •

I was in love.

Inside the old station with its vaulted aluminum roof with shafts of light pouring in through skylights, I stared at the rows upon rows of bookcases. Through the bustle of people, there was something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting chandeliers that looked like something out of a steampunk novel. Reading areas set up in breaks between stacks, tables with chairs so people could lounge, read, drink their coffee as crowds milled around them. The rows of bookcases down the middle of the large room were connected at the top by strips of wood painted white and printed with a verse I recognized from the Song of Solomon. Each strip was a line from The Beloved’s Request: The Shulamite.

My favorite line from the verse they’d used was “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.” I took out my phone and snapped a shot of it.

“So pretty,” I murmured, wondering at the choice behind using the verse.

Roane took my hand, drawing my attention to him, and he nodded to our right. There was a café in the bookshop called the Station Buffet.

There was a possibility I would die at the whimsy of it all.

“It’s like something out of Harry Potter.”

Laughing at my overexcitement, Roane squeezed my hand. “You’re very cute.”

Something in his eyes made me feel flushed. I looked away and tugged on his hand. “Let’s explore.”

I expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t, and I should have questioned it, but I didn’t.

“You know they filmed scenes from the Harry Potter films right here in Alnwick,” Roane told me as he followed me through the stacks. “At Alnwick Castle and Gardens.”

“Really? Will you take me there sometime?”

I was too busy studying the shelves to see his expression, but I heard the affection in his tone when he replied, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Evie.”

That’s when I discovered there was such a thing as a word-provoked heart flutter.

Commencing “ignore heart flutter.”

To do that, I found a way to release his hold on my hand without it being too obvious, using the crowds as obstacles. However, Roane stayed with me, seeming content to watch me peruse the shelves, moving from bookcase to bookcase. The book titles quickly became a blur as my awareness zeroed in on one thing, one person.

Him.

I felt the warmth of his presence, hovering at my back, and felt the heat of his gaze on my face. The skin on my cheek tingled, and I wondered if it had turned red under his intense regard.

My breathing grew more shallow as Roane’s fingertips brushed against the small of my back, as if he were afraid that without that lack of connection I’d somehow disappear as I moved along the stacks.

What the hell was I supposed to do with this inconvenient attraction?

Most times we hung out at The Anchor with other people as buffers. There were moments we were alone, and we were comfortable, but then I’d catch Roane looking at me in a certain way or he’d notice I’d been staring at his mouth, and the sexual tension would fill the air between us.

Like now.

Busy frantically pondering how to defuse the chemistry we shared, I hadn’t realized what book I’d halted in front of until it was too late.

A historical romance novel with a couple in a sexy clinch on the cover.