Chapter Eight #2
Vera continued, “Everyone’s struggling since the exit closed. And I heard you let your employees go. Made me wonder if you were closing. I’ve been thinking of moving my bakery somewhere more prominent.” She twisted, sweeping her gaze over the store.
Prominent.
Like here.
“Good luck to you, Vera.” Felicity’s tone finally gave the woman the shove she needed to be on her way.
She stood there for a beat, unsure how to respond. Then with a small wave, she walked off, shoes scraping on the pavement.
The second she rounded the corner out of sight, Gabe moved closer to Felicity. “I don’t like her.”
“Nobody does.”
He stared at the alley where Vera disappeared. “She’s sniffing around this place for a reason.”
Felicity exhaled but didn’t argue. The tiny lines of strain around her beautiful eyes revealed the hurt she felt from both the cops’ lack of concern and then the bakery owner showing up like a hawk ready to feed on prey.
Someone had taken the journal Henry left her. Someone was watching her business, her house and knew how to use a jammer to block the camera signal so they could search her car.
But one thing stuck out to Gabe. Vera knew Felicity let her employees go and questioned if the bookshop was closing.
“She wants your storefront. It’s the most prominent place in town.”
She lifted a hand to scrub the spot between her wispy brows. “I don’t know about that, Gabe.”
“Is it possible she had something to do with the break-ins?” He captured Felicity’s stare and held it.
She looked back for a long beat. “I don’t know. She’s a gossip and she’s difficult during meetings of the small business bureau. But I don’t think she’s malicious.”
He flicked his attention back to the alley.
He didn’t trust the woman, especially knowing she had designs on Felicity’s space.
He rested a hand on Felicity’s back. “Let’s get that lunch.”
“Okay.”
“But not at the bakery.”
“No.”
They cut through the alley and stepped out onto the sunlit sidewalk. He kept his hand on her back as they walked, not because she needed steadying, but because he needed the contact to remind himself she was right here, safe.
He hated that someone had placed a target on her back. And he hated that she’d lived so long thinking she had to face everything alone.
Her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked, and Gabe felt a hitch low in his chest—a pang he wasn’t ready to name but wasn’t going to ignore.
He wasn’t watching out for her because Carson told him to. He wasn’t sticking close because the job required it.
He was staying because somewhere between her velvety laugh in the cookbook aisle and the gutted look on her face when she realized that journal was missing, everything inside him had shifted.
And whoever was circling her—whether it was Vera, or someone worse—was about to learn the hard way that Felicity St. James wasn’t alone anymore.
Not while Gabe was breathing.
* * * * *
The sandwich place at the end of the street wasn’t gourmet, but Felicity’s appetite fled the minute she saw the journal was missing.
Still, the walk did her some good, and the fresh air restored her a little. She and Gabe ordered sandwiches, but before she could fish out her wallet, he had his card ready.
“I’ll get the food,” she protested. “It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
He waved her off. “I got it. I want to.”
With a bag of food in hand, they strolled to the park in the center of town. It only had a war monument and a few benches, but they didn’t need more. They claimed a bench and sat in the warm sunshine to eat their sandwiches.
Her mind kept looping into the same spiral.
I’m having a terrible run of bad luck. First the break-in at my store and the possible attempt at my house. Now my car and the missing journal. It’s just a journal. So why me? Why is someone after me?”
“I know. It’s a lot to process. Not to mention Mayfest coming up.”
That reminded her of Vera’s too-bright eyes and the way the cops brushed her off. All of it created an itch beneath her skin, but there was no way to relieve it.
“Maybe I can pull out a miracle and participate in Mayfest.”
His encouraging nod made her feel a little more stable. Plans were good. Plans meant she was moving forward.
Gabe took a swig of water and cradled it on one muscled thigh. Her gaze lingered on his strong body for a beat as waves of awareness broke over her again. He hadn’t just been a skilled lover—he had been attentive before, during and afterward. Caring for her in all ways, from foreplay to afterglow.
She placed the rest of her sandwich in the bag and remembered the brown bag from the bakery she carried all the way here.
She stole a peek inside and found the thick, fudgy brownie waiting there.
When she pulled it out, a dusting of powdered sugar on top came with it, along with the flyer for Mayfest.
She smoothed the paper over her knee. Bright flowers and cheerful fonts mocked her.
Gabe watched her closely. “You said you have plans for Mayfest.”
She pushed a breath through her nose. “Not exactly. I had a loose plan based off what I did last year.”
“What was that?”
“It’s usually a big deal for the shop, but…” She swallowed, mouth dry. “It would take a miracle to get the shop cleaned up and decorated for the event. Plus, I’d need to pay the ladies I just let go…”
He settled a hand on her leg. A simple touch, light but comforting. “If you want to get it cleaned up in time, I’ll pitch in.”
“I’m sure my sister and some of the others would as well. It’s just…” She trailed off, losing steam on the project she hadn’t even started.
The turkey and avocado sandwich sat in her stomach, the weight an unhelpful addition to the ones she already carried. She shrugged. Fact was, her mind was still on that journal. Henry’s handwriting was the last piece of him she had, and now it was gone, and the ache of that lodged in her chest.
Realizing that she’d zoned out, she broke the brownie in half and offered him his share. He took it hesitantly, eyeing it as if it would grow a stinger. “Sure we should be eating brownies from Vera?”
“She might be catty, but I don’t think she’s out for blood.”
“No. Just your shop. I don’t like what she said about looking for a new location for her business.”
“She had the bakery before I moved in with the bookshop. She could have rented my building anytime she wanted. It doesn’t make sense.”
He brushed his fingers over her wrist, the touch light but comforting. “You belong in the bookshop, as part of Willowbrook. Your passion is so obvious to everyone who meets you. I just wish I knew what my passion was.”
“Oh Gabe.”
He switched from the sensitive topic back to her issues. “Businesses closing and break-ins can cause the rental price to drop. She could get it cheaper if you did close your doors.”
Tears blurred her vision for a moment, and Gabe made a sound low in his throat.
“Damn. I’m sorry, bookshop. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know. You’re just trying to figure out who’s got it out for me. And it’s totally possible that you’re right about Vera.” She dropped her uneaten half of the brownie back into the bag. “Who would steal a journal?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.”
The words curled through her, as warm as a hug. She may have built her life on some of the beliefs about independence and standing strong that Mrs. Wollstonecraft shared in her book…but the way Gabe said that made her want to let someone else shoulder a little of her problems.
He reached for the bakery bag and dropped his half in too, also untouched.
She made a sad sound. “Too bad neither of us wants that brownie. Vera makes the best.”
“We can share one another time.” He shifted the food bags to one hand and enveloped hers in his other. His callused fingers against hers sparked the electrical current in her body.
Being with him in the cookbook section of the shop must have scrambled her brain, because each time he touched her, her entire body remembered that he’d touched her everywhere.
She never planned on wanting him the way she did now. And the timing couldn’t be worse. She felt as if she’d been picked up from solid earth and dropped on quicksand. Yet her body reacted when he touched her, when he looked at her…and when he spoke in that low, protective rumble.
They started down the path winding through the park. When they reached a trash can, he dropped the bags in. Not far off, a mother and her little girl were enjoying the good weather. The girl chased a pigeon across the grass, her laughter ringing in the air.
The world kept moving. Even when Felicity’s had tilted sideways.
Once they reached the alley leading to the back door of the shop, Gabe tugged her a little closer, guarding her even if he wasn’t aware he was doing it. The car was untouched. The back door was still locked, the way she left it.
She took out her key and opened the door. Gabe stuck right by her when they entered.
“Well. Looks like the same mess we left.” She didn’t even feel despair at the wrecked space anymore. Just resignation.
“Let me check things out. Give me a minute.”
She waited for him, fingers knitted as she listened to his boots on the floor. He made a rotation through the aisles, then returned to her.
He touched her waist, and she automatically turned toward him. “I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
Looking up into his deep eyes, part of her hoped his idea involved the mystery section next.
“Why don’t you work on the books out front and I’ll clean up back here? I know it distresses you every time you enter.”
Her heart jogged in her chest. “You noticed that?”
He brushed a knuckle under her chin, tipping her face up to his. “I notice everything about you, bookshop.” His words skimmed across her lips a scant moment before he leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss wasn’t tender this time. It was heated from the instant their lips touched. She gasped out, her hand already moving on its own to his nape. She drew him closer while stretching on tiptoe.
His chest vibrated in response, and he angled his head, tongue teasing, seeking.
She moaned in answer, parting her lips for him. For a long minute, he explored her and she clung to him, her knees barely remembering how to support her.
When he slowed the kiss and brushed his nose across hers, she released a shuddering sigh.
“I could do that all day.” His gritty tone sent new sparks to her core.
“Me too.”
“But we wouldn’t get much done.”
She issued a small laugh. “That’s true.” Neither of them moved away, just stared into each other’s eyes.
Finally, she took a step toward the shop, and he gave her hand one more squeeze before letting her go.
At first, she picked through some of the books, reshelving a couple stacks they created earlier. Then she glanced at the counter. Maybe a quick restoration of that area would improve the look of the place.
She spent a good half hour putting things away in their rightful spots and cleaning up a plant that had been overturned. Then she opened a drawer and spotted her stationery.
She loved stationery and had a particular connection to creating wax seals. It was old-fashioned, yes, a practice people rarely used these days except on special occasions, but to her it felt natural.
Looking up at the door leading to the back of the shop where Gabe was busy cleaning up her mess, her life, a thought struck. Gabe was a special man.
She drew out a sheet of thick, creamy paper and used her best pen to write him a little thank-you note. Then she looked through her stamps for the seal. She had plenty of styles. A baby rattle from Layne’s baby shower card. Bells for weddings, balloons for celebrations.
Hearts.
Too personal.
A fleur de lis was a traditional stamp and very pretty, but it wasn’t really the message she was trying to send.
Finally, she selected her personal stamp—her initial with a floral wreath around it.
After folding the note and slipping it into the envelope, she lit the wick of her wax stick, letting the wax warm and then drip into a small puddle on the opening. She followed it up by pressing the stamp into the wax until it cooled.
How to give it to him? She didn’t want him to open it in front of her. Her heartfelt thanks would make her blush given how corny it probably sounded.
She spotted his jacket, the one he’d stripped off when they set to work that morning. Glancing toward the back again to ensure he didn’t see what she was doing, she crossed the space and slid the note into the inside pocket.
It wasn’t much of an expression of gratitude for being there for her. But right now, it was all she had. And maybe, when he found it later—when she wasn’t standing here turning pink—he’d understand just how much today meant to her.