Chapter 13
Aiden
No matter how hard I try to concentrate on the budget spreadsheet Jack and I are going over together, my thoughts keep slipping back to another business.
Another business that is thoroughly not my business, owned by a woman that, most likely, is the reason I keep thinking about books at all.
“Dude, are you listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Jack sits back, clearly exasperated. With me.
I can’t even blame him.
“Sorry, I slept like shit last night.” It’s mostly true. “The thunder woke me up, and then I just couldn’t seem to get back to sleep.”
I frown, the memory of last night strange—I could have sworn I heard the bookstore owner who’s all tangled up in my mind today calling my name.
“Weird dreams, too,” I mutter. That’s all it had to be. Weird dreams.
When I opened my eyes, as thunder cracked and rain poured down, I was by myself, in my bed, no Sylvie in it, or even nearby.
A weird thing to wake up wanting, when I’ve been fine with my bachelorhood for years. Also, I make it a rule not to fuck around with the women in this small town—Sylvie is new, but she lives here, so there’s no way I’m messing with her.
I must just be worried about her.
Like a friend. Or, even more likely, I’m invested in her business success because I helped her.
Yeah, that’s it.
“I get it,” Jack finally says, still giving me a long, assessing stare. Em’s done wonders on my high-strung friend, and I make a mental note to thank her all over again for chilling him the fuck out.
Talk about a power couple. With Em’s boutique hotel putting this town on the map and our brewery helping revitalize the downtown, they’re quite a pair.
“I met with the new bookstore owner yesterday,” I tell him.
“I didn’t know you were into books.”
“Remember the council initiative to welcome new business owners here? It was part of that.” I don’t mention the fact that I worked for free for several hours to help her set up her website backend.
He doesn’t need to know that.
“Cool. What’s he like?” Jack asks, half listening as he frowns at the spreadsheets some more.
“She’s… different.” I lean back in my office chair, lacing my fingers behind my head. “But I thought we could partner with her for her opening. Books and Booze, get it, like boos? Like ghosts?”
Jack snorts, looking around his laptop at me. “Em will eat that shit up.”
His phone dings, and he glances down at it. “Speak of the angel. She’s meeting Tara and the new bookstore owner here tonight, it sounds like.”
Pleasure spools through me, unexpected and catching me off-guard.
“Good, maybe we can hash out the details of the event tonight.” That’s gotta be why it feels good to know Sylvie will be here. Tie up that loose end, make sure she’s having no problems with what I helped her set up.
That’s all it is.
Satisfaction relaxes some of the tension in my jaw, and I grin at Jack.
“Books and Booze, huh? When are you thinking?”
My gaze jumps to the calendar on the wall. “Probably the last weekend or second to last weekend of the fall festival—give Sylvie time to set up her store, get her ducks in a row, get PR running on the new event. I want it to be successful for her.”
Jack’s eyes narrow again, a small smile playing around his mouth.
I groan inwardly.
“For both of our businesses,” I clarify. “Bringing in business for anyone here is good for all of us.” It’s practically the New Hopewell motto, but I know I’m not fooling Jack for a second.
He just lifts a brow, though, apparently deciding not to comment.
“Do you think she’ll get along with Em?” he asks.
Typical Jack. He always puts her first, and if she weren’t incredible, it might be annoying. It’s only annoying now in the sense that it makes me feel… like I’m missing something by not having someone to put first.
Besides myself, of course.
I’m not ready for anything like the wedded bliss Jack and Em have, though.
I’m set in my ways, I don’t need anyone trying to change me.
Someone to cuddle up to during thunderstorms, though, someone to share a meal with, laugh over our days together… well, that might not be so bad.
“Shit, man, maybe you should go home and take a nap.” Jack’s clicking away on his laptop again, and it takes me a second to remember what he’s asked.
“Yeah, I think she and Em will probably hit it off really well. You should probably get ready for another best friend crashing at your place along with Tara after girls’ nights.”
That earns me a chuckle.
He’s told me plenty of times about the nonsense Tara and Em get up to after too many drinks, or even more often, without alcohol at all—and even Tara’s elderly aunt Tilly gets in on the action sometimes.
“I’m proud of her, you know?” Jack says, and when I glance away from my screen, back at him, he has a faraway look in his eyes. “She’s really built a hell of a business out there, and she’s still herself. Still that starry-eyed girl.” He shakes himself, then gives me a rueful grin.
“Happy for you man,” I make myself say.
It’s true, too.
“She’s a good influence on you,” I add, and this time, it sounds way more sincere.
“You don’t have to tell me that. Trust me, I know. She and the—” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Won’t let me forget it.”
It’s a weird thing to say, and I’m not sure I know exactly what he’s talking about, but this budget isn’t going to set itself, no matter how much the fucking annoying AI assistant we can’t seem to disable would like me to let it try to think for itself.
Yeah, no thanks. I click off the AI pop-up.
I prefer to put my trust in things I fully understand.