Falling in Love (Rockford Falls 5)

And if I convinced her to make an Amazon wish list and post it to the library’s social media feed mainly so I could get her some of the books she wanted, that was my ulterior motive. I snapped up the newest romance titles first, knowing that those were her favorites. I used to tease her in high school about carting around Julia Quinn and Rachel Gibson in paperback. I know that Trixie had suggested more than once that she should just read them on her phone and keep it secret. She had loudly pronounced she wasn’t ashamed to love romance novels and that the story of two (or three) people finding love, fulfillment and happiness was nothing to be judgmental about. I loved that brashness in her and how she stood up for what she believed. So when I carted a bunch of new romances from Mariana Zapata and Courtney Milan and Helen Hoang all the others she was crazy about who she’d name-checked in front of me, I was happy because I knew she’d be thrilled to see them.

I invited her over to my house for dinner, ready to show her the surprise I had ordered for her. Michelle came over with a bottle of wine, something better than the screw-top grocery store wine we used to drink when we were teenagers. She was wearing skinny jeans and a silky looking top in bright yellow that looked great on her. Her blond hair was sun streaked and summery on her bare shoulders.

“Come on in, beautiful,” I said. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can sit down and have a drink. I can open the wine or there’s beer and Coke in the fridge.”

“No root beer?” she teased.

“I learned my lesson. You’re not the same girl you were, and I don’t need to stock A&W for you to drink.”

“Is there Diet Coke?”

“Maaaybe,” I teased.

“Did you buy Diet Coke because I mentioned it?”

“No. Of course not. Don’t I look like I’m a diet soda drinker?” I joked.

“Yeah. Nothing screams manly man like working on cars, shoulders two ax handles across and a can of Diet Coke,” she said.

“Ax handles?”

“It’s a romance novel thing. I got a delivery of romance novels today at the library. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just doing my part to support my local library and bring happy endings to the people of Rockford Falls,” I said lightly.

“And that sounds like you’re going to give out blow jobs with every book checkout.”

“No. Don’t advertise that I’ll do that. I don’t have time. I’ve got a business to run,” I laughed.

“Fine, there went my grand reopening promotion plan. Now I’ll have to get somebody else to hand out sexual favors with every new library card,” she teased, taking a Diet Coke out of the refrigerator and popping it.

I went out back and flipped the meat on the grill and made sure the potatoes were almost done as well. When I came back she was looking at the pictures on my fridge. They were mostly of cars I’d restored and of Greg and Katie and me in Chicago on my last visit. There was one of all of us at my parents’ house on my dad’s birthday, and a postcard Greg had sent me from when he and Katie went skiing in Canada last winter.

“Mine is just pictures of my friends’ kids,” she said. “Maybe I should take a page from your book and take pictures of the book displays and stuff at work Maybe a shot of the preschool storytime crafts or something.”

“How’d that go today?” I asked. “I know it’s the first story time you’ve been able to have since the storm.”

“It was good. I only had about nine show up, which is less than I usually have, but I only put it on the library social media yesterday. Once word gets out, I think attendance will be back up. We did Good Night, Good Night Construction Site and then the craft was using brown paint to make a pile of mud on the picture of the big equipment.”

“Did you just use real mud?”

“We use nontoxic paint.”

I brought in the steaks and baked potatoes and put them on plates. She got the butter and sour cream from the fridge while I opened the wine and poured it into cups.

“I don’t have wine glasses. I’m an old bachelor.”

“Just used to swigging out of the bottle?” she said. “I’m single and I have wine glasses.”

“Yeah, but you probably inherited them and they’re from France or something,” I said.

“Guilty as charged. They’re Baccarat crystal, from my mom’s wedding china and crystal set. I would’ve brought them if I thought of it.”

I just nodded tightly and sat down.

“What?”

“You’re used to drinking out of crystal glasses, Chel. You learned Italian before you could ride a bike. It just reminds me how far above me you’ve always been.”