The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

And I was bored.

I was so fucking bored.

I had nothing to do. Some people begged for this, and sure, I’d occasionally had moments where I, too, had wanted free time to do nothing but watch TV and lounge around like a kept gentleman.

Now that I had it, I wanted to do anything but this.

I put down my coffee and got back up off the sofa. I’d just had a shower, but my legs were itching for something to do. Running was on my approved list of exercises because it was gentle on my shoulder, so I was going to go for a jog and see if I could burn off some of this antsy energy I was carrying around.

I grabbed some socks from the laundry room, then put them on followed by my sneakers. After pausing to pick up my phone, keys, and wallet, I headed out into the chilly morning air.

The cold washed over me, and I sighed. Apparently, getting all worked up had made me hotter than I’d realized, and the early winter air was a welcome relief from that.

After walking for a minute, I broke into a gentle jog and headed in the direction of town. I knew at the end of this fifteen-minute run there would be Bear Claw Café with coffee and hopefully a hot pastry to refill my energy before I turned around and went home.

There was always an ulterior motive as far as running was concerned.

If there wasn’t, you weren’t running right.

As I left the neighborhood, I glanced in the direction of the mountains where Kate was getting married in a couple of days. They were snow-capped, and judging by the thick, gray clouds that were moving in to hug them, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

That made me smile.

Kate had wanted snow, and snow she was going to get. I’d booked out the entire ski resort, and she wouldn’t have to go far up the mountain to get her wish.

I turned into town and passed the entrance to Peak Place. A smile ghosted over my lips at the memories that hit me; the parties that we, as idiot teens, had thought our parents didn’t know about; sneaking out for dates and finding a secluded spot; sitting and talking with Holley until the sun went down and the moon came up and we’d both broken our curfew.

Shit.

I’d had so many chances back then to tell her how I’d felt.

What would my life be like now if I had?

Would I have lost my best friend anyway?

I shook those thoughts away and slowed until I was walking. The café was just up ahead, and I wiped my forehead with my sleeve to get rid of the sweat that had beaded there.

Thankfully, the café was open and it was quiet. I was still somewhat of a novelty in town, especially to the little kids who weren’t accustomed to seeing one of their favorite baseball players walking down Main Street like it was no big deal.

Thankfully, to Johanna, I was still the lanky ten-year-old with crooked teeth whose body hadn’t caught up with his height yet.

“Good morning, Sebastian!” she sang, turning a knob on the coffee machine so it sputtered out water and hissed. “How are we today?”

I grinned at her. “I’m good, Johanna. How are you?”

“Can’t complain, can’t complain!” She turned the knob back and set the coffee on a plate, her blonde bun bobbing as she handed the coffee to the customer with a smile. “What can we get for you today?”

“What do you have that I can eat my body weight of?”

“I don’t have two hundred pounds of croissants and cheesecake, if that’s what you’re asking.” She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed to the pastry cabinet. “Felicity! Are you done with that bread yet?”

There was fresh bread?

Yum.

Felicity, Johanna’s adopted daughter, poked her head in from the kitchen and frowned, her dark eyebrows pinching in at the center of her forehead. “Mom! I brought it out ten minutes ago!”

Johanna turned and looked at the shelving behind her and let out a booming laugh. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Story of my lie.” Felicity met my gaze and beamed, her entire face lighting up. Her dark braids were tipped with blue, and it looked amazing against her dark skin. “Seb! Morning!”

“Morning, Felicity. So you made the bread?”

She nodded, blushing hard. “The bakery is shut this week for some renovations, so I’m baking some for Mom and selling it here.”

“I might buy it,” Johanna stage-whispered, winking at me as she set a load of Felicity’s bread down. “It’s up for sale you know.”

“Mom!” Felicity hissed. “I told you, I want to save up to buy it.”

“And you can,” she replied without batting an eyelid. “From me. It won’t be for sale forever, and you’ve worked hard on your bakery skills. You can buy it at market price in a few years when you’re ready.”