Chapter Seven
The laughter grew, and the more I thought about the situation Alice had tried to plan for us to meet, it seemed like greater forces than her were at play.
I wiped a tear from my eye. “She called me Miss Spice?!”
His smile stayed put even as his warm laugh settled. “Yep. Never put Sage and spice together.”
“Because no one would ever accuse me of being spicy.”
“That’s not true.” His head tipped down and a shy smile took center stage. “What I can’t figure out is why she called me by my last name and not my first?”
“Well, then I guess she was just being sneaky. She wanted us to get together.” If only Alice knew how fate had intervened before she had.
“And she thought the best way would be for you to voluntarily meet me and we could talk about astronomy?” He shrugged, and his gaze flew to the tray of food when his stomach rumbled.
I reached for the other half of the banana bread slice and held it out to him. It wasn’t nearly as good as Cassie’s. A tad dry, but in the moment, it tasted amazing. “Have something.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“It’s not stealing. Remember, I’ve got an itemized list. Just dig in. You know you want to.” I winked and watched as his hand hovered over a couple of the treats before he decided the bear claw was the best option.
He took a significant bite and moaned.
The sound stirred something deep inside me and set off a cascade of pleasant emotions.
His finger ran along the outer edge of his lips. “So tell me, what do you know about astronomy?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“And yet Alice wanted you to help out?”
“My sister, Cassie—Alice’s cohort in romantic crime—said I didn’t need a Ph. D. in rocket science to help out since all I’d be doing is directing people onto a bus or something.”
With the banana bread slice gone, it was time to taste something different, and I reached for a chocolate donut, bending the lone version of it in half in case Elliot wanted part.
He chewed the rest of his bear claw while still talking. “That may be true, but if you know something, you can get someone else excited about it. The passion rubs off.”
“I don’t have a lot of passion for anything,” I said off-the-cuff.
“Really? We both know that’s not true. What about the Little Free Library? And all the fun things you do with books?”
A sheepish grin played on the edges of my lips. “Well… there is that.”
“You are passionate about reading, and for getting others to read.” He nodded with a sense of pride on the tip of his tongue.
I did love it when people read books for fun. It kept them out of trouble. It broadened their minds. It took them on a journey to someplace new and exciting.
He pointed a finger at me, punctuated with a sly grin of his own. “See… you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
I nodded and tipped my head down.
“That, my friend, is passion. And you have it in spades.”
Friend? Is that all?
He picked up the donut and bit half of it, chasing it down with a good gulp from his water bottle after staring back at the treat. “Wow, that is one rich donut.”
“Agreed.” I wiped the corners of my lips. “It would go perfect with a cup of dark roast.”
“Or a… Yeah, you’re right,” he said pe nsively. “Those two would mate perfectly together.” Before he stuffed another bite of donut into his mouth, another wink—very swift and subtle—came my way. “So, back to your passions—like books. What do you love most about them?”
“Well…” I set my treat upon the napkin and lick some chocolate off my finger. “When an author weaves their words in such a way that you can’t put the book down and you’re transported to a far-off place, like New York, it’s the best feeling.” I chuckled since the east coast of the U.S. was a faraway place for me. “Or to the Renaissance age. Reading makes me happy. For the most part.”
“Oh?”
“Sometimes, the stories are sad, and I cry.” Telling anyone else that would’ve made me cringe but sharing that with Elliot didn’t seem to bother me. With his yarn skills and crafty side, I was starting to feel a bit more of a connection to him, rather than what was just simply a crush a few hours ago.
“That’s a well-done story then. If the author can evoke such powerful emotions, they must be doing something right.”
“Oh, they most certainly are. And the heroes they write about?” I leaned into the back of the chair with a satisfied sigh. “Ah-mazing, and totally fictional because Cassie says guys aren’t like that in real life, not even her husband. My sister calls it ‘storybook syndrome’ because I’m constantly chasing after this idealized version of a man. Apparently, and more specifically, the kind who treat their ladies as an equal, respect their boundaries, and yet still protect and cherish you.”
Not unsurprising, Elliot snort-laughed and then softened his voice. “I think those guys are more real than you think. You just need to look harder.”
“Tell that to Cassie.”
“And you’ve never dated a guy like that? You’ve only read about them in your books?”
A faint heat warmed my chest and rolled up my neck. “Although those heroes are becoming more noticed, there does seem to be an abundance of alpha-holes, which I’m just not into.” Especially since my father had been one, right down to the letter.
“Excuse me, what?”
“Alpha-holes. It’s a term a customer used for describing a hero who is dominating and bossy and not always nice to the heroine all in the name of love.” I shrugged, remembering the conversation because it was surprising. “The customer filled me in about all sorts of hero descriptions, and various sub-genres, most of which I set into my memory so we could keep a fresh inventory of reads for her. If there was a gold star customer, it was her.”
“So she’s the Sage of the Coffee Loft eh?”
I smiled at his comment. “She sure is. Some readers truly enjoy those types of male characters, so we make sure to keep them well-stocked at the bookstore. Unfortunately, in my personal world, those guys, those alpha-holes as she put it, they exist, and I’ve known enough of them to not want to read about them in my spare time. I much prefer the niche characters who are more of a what did she call them?” My finger tapped my chin. “Ah, right. The cinnamon roll hero.”
“Does this hero have raisins?”
“What?” I laughed as it dawned on me about the raisin reference. “No, my cinnamon roll hero has nothing aged or wrinkled on him.”
“But he’s perfect?”
I tipped my head to the side and tore off a chunk of the donut, choosing my words carefully. “Not all the way through perfect; he has his flaws, but inherently, he’s a good guy and the world is better with him in it.”
He took a bite of his donut and followed it with a swig of water. “Ever thought of writing?”
“Not in a million years.” My feet slipped off the chair and hit the floor. Sliding them into my flats, I repositioned myself. “It’s enough trying to finish my essays.”
“Are you studying for something?”
“I’m taking part-time online classes, but I’ve stalled over the last semester. Again.”
“Oh yeah?”
I rolled my lip between my teeth. “I’m wavering.” I hadn’t even shared that with Cassie. “I have half of a Library Sciences degree under my belt, but I have dreams of buying out the bookstore when Harvey’s ready to sell. Then I’ve been thinking about maybe switching tracks and learning how to run a business since I don’t really know how to do that.” I also had a year’s worth of schooling trying to obtain a Bachelor of Arts degree, as well as two accounting courses, which were the most boring classes I’d ever attended.
“I’m sure you know more than you think.”
“Well, what I do have a grasp on is what customers love reading, and I know lots about different titles, genres, and top sellers, although I am more lenient toward the romance genre. However, knowing what customers like to read and actually getting those books on the shelves, those are two different aspects.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But it might not be as hard as you think either.”
“It could be harder.” I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, so I was relieved when Elliot didn’t reply. I had a friend that would constantly put herself down so others could lift her up, and I always thought that was the most backward way of thinking. I knew what my strengths were and also knew my weaknesses, but as far as running a business went, I knew next to nothing. “However, I’m ready for the challenge.”
“Challenge is good.”
“Challenge is what I’m used to,” I said with a puff and reached for another treat. My hand hovered over a couple of options. “What do you recommend next? ”
Under the flickering glow of the flameless candle, he surveyed the items. “The Nanaimo bar. It’s my favourite.”
“Done.” I picked up two, handed one to him, and took a bite. It was heavenly; the perfect thickness of custard seeped out from under the crisp chocolate layer but mixed perfectly with the coconut and walnut crust. “Oh my goodness,” I said with my mouth half full.
“Right?”
I finished my bite. “I could eat a whole tray.”
“You could, but you might regret it.”
“Nah., I don’t regret anything. Do you?”
“Yeah. It’s a daily battle for me.” He said it so forlornly that my heart ached a little.
“Why?” I took another savoury bite, licking my lips for good measure.
“Just wished I’d done things differently, maybe taken a different path.”
“Oh? Like what? Doing what?” I leaned forward, leaning on my left side so I was closer to him.
He shrugged. “Like schooling. I always struggled but I gave up in my senior year. Didn’t have any teachers who were able to help or offer different solutions. I loved math and science but couldn’t process what I was being taught to understand.” Pausing with a tight, pensive expression, he scuffed his feet on the floor while the weight of what burdened him pressed on his shoulders. “My grade twelve math teacher told me, in front of the whole class, how I was too stupid to be taught because I kept asking questions.”
My jaw dropped right to the floor, but I was ready to jump into action. “What? That’s awful.”
“I agree. It was a huge hit to my self-esteem, and I stopped caring about things. I lost my zest and stayed in dead-end jobs. I barely had enough credits to graduate, and when you’re seventeen and humiliated like that… It made high school less than the ideal that society would have you believe with the whole ‘best years ever’ motto filled with all the magic. My years there were rough. Kids made fun of me.” In the span of a few seconds, Elliot had de-aged—as if remembering the torment of his high school years brought that version of himself back to the surface.
I placed my hand on his arm, but what I really wanted was to wrap the heartbroken seventeen-year-old Elliot in a deep hug, tell him how important he was, and what a kind heart he had. “That’s nothing short of disappointing. I hope that teacher was fired, and those kids that taunted you? Well, karma is just waiting for them.”
“He retired the next year, so I heard, and as for the kids who made fun of me, well, I have no idea.”
I gave his arm another squeeze, fighting back a slight blur in my vision. Cassie regularly talked about who was getting picked on in her school, and it always bothered me. I told her if she wasn’t going to let me teach the bullies a lesson, she needed to stop telling me about them because I was going to figure out who they were, and then they’d be dealing with massive regret.
“I’m really sorry. You should never have been treated like that.”
He brushed off my hand and my weak attempt to comfort him. “It’s okay now. I’ve learned from it, I’ve dealt with it, and I’ve moved on.” He picked up the water bottle and took a drink, giving the plastic bottle a tight squeeze. After taking a deep breath, he set the crumpled bottle down. “Like you, I’ve taken a few online courses, but I’m still not sure what I want to do for the rest of my life. Even being almost thirty. Makes me a loser, doesn’t it?”
There was that seventeen-year-old again. Licks of anger swelled in my gut, and dislike for people I’d never even met roared through me. If they only knew how their words hurt people. How long those scars last.
I needed a deep breath myself, and when I finished, I curled back up in my chair. “You are definitely not a loser. Not everyone wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, and the world needs things that make them happy. Like books. And coffee shops. And handmade crocheted scarves. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with working in either of those industries. Besides, I think you are perfectly suited for this job and the reason this store is so successful.”
It was the truth; he was the reason I came in every morning before work to grab a coffee. I didn’t need the caffeine boost. Just seeing his infectious smile and hearing the way he greeted me was equivalent to a rush from an espresso drink, and I craved it.
Elliot didn’t say a word, but there was a spread of crimson crawling up his neck until the light from the flameless candle flickered and went out.
He cleared his throat. “Well… guess I’ll need to come up with a better light source for the project.”
“What were you going to make?”
“It’s silly.”
“What? Nah, I don’t believe that. Try me.”
“Well… I was going to nail holes into a star pattern on a pie plate, keep them spaced close but not too close. You do two of them and attach a flameless candle in the middle of the star shape and seal the two sides together. It’s very pretty and adds to the ambience of the festival. We were going to make dozens next week before the event and set them up along the paths.”
I dug my elbow into the armrest and set my head into the palm of my hand. “That sounds incredible. But are you sealing them up just before you stake them? I’d think the battery would run out before too long.”
“Allegedly,” he pointed to the dead candle on our table, “they have a hundred-hour battery life.”
A soft snort fell out of me. “There’s always a dud in each package. Maybe that was it. ”
“That would be my luck.” He grabbed a hunk of a bear claw and offered me the last slice of lemon loaf. “Try this.”
I accepted it, touching his hand and relishing the slight zing.
“But if they last as long as they claim, we can seal them Friday afternoon and they should be good for the whole weekend.”
“They should.” I bit into the lemon loaf and felt my tastebuds come alive with the zesty citrus flavour. In all my life, I’d never had a lemon loaf as flavourful as that was, and it was hard to keep my moans to myself.
“Good?” he asked with food in his mouth.
“Amazing.” My eye may have rolled into the back of my head.
“Nina actually makes that herself. It’s a family recipe apparently.”
“Five stars all the way. You’ve got to try it.” Before I could stop myself, I tore off a clean edge and thrust it toward his mouth.
Without warning, he opened for the piece, and I pushed the bite in past his soft, pouty lips, but let him take over when I felt the flicker of a tongue touch my fingertip. It was a rush. And a mistake. It had been a very intimate way to share food; like how Cassie and Chad often did it.
Unable to look away, I watched him for a repulsive look that never surfaced. Instead, his gaze was lightly heated with a building smirk, which in turn, heated my core.
He chewed slowly. Methodically. All the while his gaze stayed connected to me.
Without thinking, I sucked the lemony frosting off my fingertips.
His eyebrow rose as did the building smirk stretching out his lips.
I produced enough heat to once again warm the small space, but I couldn’t break away. I was curious to see how far I could go—how far he’d want to go.
However, movement outside grabbed my attention and while both thanking and cursing the break, I leapt to my feet, racing to the window.
“What do you see?” Elliot was by my side in a flash.
“An elk.”
“An elk? Really? Where?”
The large animal sauntered down the street like it was no big deal, and although it wasn’t unusual to see them roaming the streets, it was still something that caught me off-guard when it happened.
“Check out the size of its antlers.”
“Where? I still don’t see it.”
“Follow my arm.”
He moved behind me, put his hands on my waist and his chin on my shoulder. I prayed that being so close to him he couldn’t feel the pounding of my heart or hear the clipped intakes of air as I reminded myself to breathe like a normal person .
I pointed out the direction of where the animal was. “Do you see it? It’s on the other side of the street. It just walked in front of the gate of the house.”
“Oh, yeah, now I see it.” His breath tickled my ear, and his low, throaty voice warmed me from the inside out.
I dropped my arm and clasped my hands together in front of me. Should I have reached for his hands? Should I have pulled them more around my waist so he could hold me tight against his chest? Did he want to do those things too and was waiting for a sign?
The massive mammal slowly lumbered away from the house and crossed the street, heading toward the main roads. Its rack of antlers had to be at least four, if not five, feet across. And the height was staggering too. The wildlife that roamed through Jasper was impressive.
“Wow, you have great eyesight.”
“Cassie accuses me of being hypersensitive, but it’s like a sixth sense to see that movement.”
“Then you are definitely on watch for anyone walking the streets.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” And keep them trained on Elliot, since he was ridiculously easy to stare at.
I turned to him, scrolling over his face and up into his eyes. He held my gaze with his and swept my messy hair off my face so I could see him more clearly. Truth was, that had already happened. I had been seeing Elliot in a new light all evening.
My bottom lip rolled between my teeth.
My heart raced, my palms became sweaty, and I was feeling a whole rack of fresh emotions. Every single one was an exciting rush. I could stay in that moment forever.
However, even though I had my back turned to the window, I saw a flash of lightning and my mood shifted. I went ramrod straight, my heart racing for an entirely new set of reasons. Swallowing down a tidbit-sized of trepidation, I wiped my hands on my leggings.
Locking his focus on me, he tightened his hold on my shoulders.
A low rumbling of thunder growled in the far distance, far enough away that I hoped it stayed away from where we were.
Elliot’s hands smoothed down my arms until he reached my hands. He squeezed them gently. “I think it’s far enough away to not bother us.”
“You heard it too?”
“Yeah, but it was faint.” He never unlocked his gaze and his fingers entwined through mine. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I just want to drown out the sound.”
“Are you more frightened by the thunder or the flash of light?”
I swallowed and then took in a sharp inhale of air. “Both. I don’t like it when it cracks, I don’t like the rumbles either, but the ones that snap … those kill a small part of me.”
“I’ll make sure nothing kills you.” The concern in his voice outweighed the ache in my heart.
It was said so sweetly I wanted to believe him with every fiber of my being, but I didn’t know how we were going to avoid hearing it if it roared across town again.
“I have an idea.” Like a lightbulb went off over his head, he raised a hand in the air and walked toward the display cases. I didn’t want to let go of his comforting hand, all warm and soft, so I followed, matching him step for step.
When we were behind the counter, I released my hold on him as he dug around under the counter. “Aha, found it.”
The metal bowl pinged and popped when he dropped it on the counter; it was loud enough that I wanted to cover my ears.
“You thought slamming that against the surfaces would be better?” It was ridiculous enough I wanted to laugh.
“No, but that’s not actually a bad idea.” He rubbed his chin. “Something to keep in mind if things get loud and noisy.” He grabbed the bowl with one hand and slipped his hand down my arm, stopping at my hand. Locked together, he pulled me back to the main dining area. “I got it for this.”
He set the metal bowl on the bar-height table near the window and turned on his phone. After a second, music started playing.
“What do you like to dance to?” he asked.
I ignored the last part of the phrase. “Are you streaming?”
Because that would be amazing. It would mean there was a signal, and we could call for help.
“I wish. Still no signal, but, I have a lengthy catalogue of downloaded music. What’s your top pick?”
“I don’t know, Taylor Swift?” But I only said it as a joke. I didn’t expect him to have any of her songs on his phone, although mine was packed with TayTay favourites.
“Sure. Which album?”
“What seriously? I was kidding.” I wanted to laugh but curiosity got the better of me and I peeked into the options as he scrolled.
“I’m not. In your opinion, what’s her best album?”
I rocked back and forth on my feet. Picking a favourite was an impossible choice. I scratched my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious as my finger caught in a few knots. My hair was a mess, and I wished I had a hair tie. I tucked my hands into my red leather jacket, desperately searching for a random elastic to no avail.
Elliot stood there watching me. A small grin teased his lips.
“Um… Fearless ? Or Red, or maybe 1989 ?”
“Ah, all classic Taylor. Awesome.” He thumbed through his phone and selected the 1989 album. “Shall we dance?”
My joyful expression fell. “What?”
“You mean to tell me at the end of the workday when you’re closing up by yourself that you don’t crank the tunes and do a little shuffle?”
Had he watched?
“I hardly shuffle,” I said defensively. “Isn’t that a dance craze from the sixties or something?” Not that I knew. I’d tried ballet and jazz as a child but failed miserably. My dance instructor even told my mother I wasn’t ballet material.
“I doubt it, but you don’t burn off steam and just dance around?”
“Yeah, but no one’s there to watch me look like I’m having a seizure.”
“I highly doubt it’s that bad, and besides, there’s no one here, except me, and I swear I won’t judge.” He set his phone, with the display turned off, into the bowl as Shake It Off started playing and echoing off the metal amplifier. It was surprising how the sound filled the space.
“Fine. I’ll just have to dance by myself.” He was already moving.
And he did. Elliot bounced and shimmied, and not necessarily to the beat, but he looked like he didn’t give two nickels about how he appeared. It was truly refreshing. In my past, guys had been concerned with what car they drove, their job title, the clothing labels, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, but not Elliot .
By the time Taylor got to the chorus, I couldn’t help myself and tossed my red jacket onto the chair and joined in, doing my best dance aerobic moves, which looked nothing like how I envisioned. However, I let loose, and like Elliot, I didn’t care either. It was cathartic.
We bobbed and danced to Summer of ’69 and followed that with a Bon Jovi classic— It’s My Life —before we busted a serious move to Holiday by Green Day.
The next song came on … a much slower melody.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elliot said, walking over to the metal bowl. “Let me skip.”
“Don’t. I’m okay with it if you are.” Breathlessly, I took his hand into mine and stared into his eyes.
“You’re sure?”
“It’s a slow dance, and I’m not thirteen. I promise it’s fine.”
I wrapped my left arm around his neck and slightly extended my other tightly tangled with his hand, feeling as natural as I ever had with another guy.
His right hand looped around my waist.
We moved in time to Savage Garden’s I Knew I Loved You . As the first chorus crested, he leaned in to whisper, “Have I swept you off your feet yet?”
Unable to answer, as I wasn’t sure what words or sounds would escape. My body was buzzing. My head was whirring, and my thoughts were erratic .
I moved in closer and rested my head against his shoulder, pulling our linked hands in closer. Our feet shifted around the floor of the Coffee Loft and our hearts beat as one – his heart raced just as much as mine. Was it the cardio workout or something more?
As we shuffled slowly, my heart was ready to take the plunge, but my brain put the brakes on.
Was he going to love me then leave me?
Would he trade me in for someone else?
Would I find his love of raisins to be more than I can handle?
We were so opposite in so many ways; were we too opposite?
Our knees knocked against the other, and his chin rubbed against the back of my head until the song ended. I turned to him, staring up into magnificent eyes and hesitated. I did want more; a hug, more physical contact. Anything. I wanted it all but didn’t know how to ask. If he was feeling the same—the serious expression on his face was super hard to read—he didn’t ask either.
Swallowing my courage and feeling like a coward, I put an arm’s length of air between us. “Thanks, that was nice.”
So stupid. What was wrong with me?
“It was fun. Want to do it again?”
“Which part?” Guess my brain fumbled on that and for the moment, my heart was eagerly taking over .
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he gazed down upon me with a lazy grin. “Another slow song?”
“Okay.”
Not that we had much choice – the next song in the queue started up. An equally slow song but one that you could do a little more than swish side to side on. As it played, Elliot took the beat to heart and twirled me around, even dipping me at the height of the chorus. My hair puddled on the floor and for a fraction of a second, his shoe stepped on my hair pile holding me in place. Then he moved, and I yanked myself up, pressing against him while wishing I’d tied my hair up or at least twisted it into a braid.
For the next few interesting songs, we channelled Boy in the Box, and did our best Uptown Funk moves before we flashed back to the 70s with Love Shack. We danced around the empty space, just the two of us in a moment of blurred reality. He’d toss me out, and I’d shimmy back into him like the leads in Footloose . Didn’t help that the song was also playing, and we both felt like tonight was the perfect night to cut loose.
He was no Kevin Bacon, but he sure tried as he moved and wiggled and shook his hips like no one was watching. Truth be told, I wasn’t truly watching him—not really—I was partially busy dancing around like a jumping bean in time to the music. It was all about the fun, and we were having all of it. Every last ounce.
Then another slow song to tame us down— one that wasn’t familiar to me—but without a word, I effortlessly wrapped my hands around his neck while his looped behind my back.
This time, I didn’t turn my head and rest it against his shoulder facing away.
This time, I stared up at him.
His eyes danced between mine and our heads moved closer and closer. My heartbeat drowned out the music playing and shuddered all the flashing red lights my brain was broadcasting. Rather I let instinct take over and moved my hands from the back of his neck to thread through his thick hair. It was warm and slightly damp, but it didn’t bother me in the least.
Standing on my tiptoes, I pushed myself higher and angled myself closer.
Slowly, I leaned toward him.
He returned the idea and bent toward me. His hands moved from my back to my arms, tenderly sliding up until they cupped my cheeks.
In a breathless moment, our lips connected as the world around us faded into oblivion, along with all rational thoughts.
Pulling back many— many —heartbeats later, I stared at him as a fresh flash of fiery heat blanketed my chest and face.
“You’re a good kisser,” I said. The words came out of left field, and if there had been a way for Elliot to have vacated the premises, I’m sure he would’ve hightailed it out of there. What a silly thing for my lips to have let slide out .
Instead, he ghosted his lips across mine again as a new surge of tingles flowed from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. “Thanks.”
Unable to breathe or blink, I continued to stare until he quickly wrapped his hands over my ears.
A moment later the ground shook, and I knew it wasn’t from the kiss.