Chapter 19
Lila
The store was packed tighter than usual for a Thursday, the line curling past the pastry case and spilling into the book stacks.
I should have been laser-focused on the register, on how the pastries needed to be refilled, and on setting up a new display for my crime fiction section, but my mind had a bad habit of wandering.
I was still keyed up about who could be out to hurt me. It was making me paranoid in the worst ways. I hadn’t been able to sleep at my place yet, and instead had been staying at Sage’s, taking advantage of her hospitality and apparently the fact that her ficus was lonely.
Worse, my thoughts kept wandering.
It had been nearly a week since girls’ night at the Public House, and I still couldn’t shake the image of him on the dance floor.
The way he’d filled up the room just by walking in, broad and brooding, that unreadable scowl tugging at his mouth.
The way he’d looked at me—like I’d been the only one in there.
The way his body had felt crowded up next to mine.
The heat of him and how he’d filled out that flannel.
It shouldn’t be so hot. I hadn’t felt those butterflies in my stomach around a man before.
And then the way he’d left, polite enough to sting, gruff enough to keep me guessing, just when I thought maybe we were going to say something real, or like maybe he was going to ask me out.
I hadn’t told Sage. Not really. She’d pressed me on the walk home, her eyes all knowing, but I’d shrugged it off. Girls’ night had been for dancing, laughing, and tequila, not for dissecting my confusing feelings about her brother.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about them now.
“Earth to Lila.” Mia snapped her fingers in front of my face. Her pink streaks had been refreshed the day before, practically neon against her light hair. She tipped her chin at the muffins cooling behind me. “Are those going to box themselves, or are we experimenting with telekinesis again?”
I blinked, realizing the tray had been sitting untouched while three customers waited. “Right. Sorry.” I reached for the parchment sheets, trying not to look guilty.
“Uh-huh,” Mia said under her breath, smirking as she poured a cappuccino. “Definitely not thinking about anyone in particular.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, heat crawling up my neck. “I’m thinking about inventory.”
“Sure,” she drawled. “Inventory that happens to wear flannel and scowls like it’s a profession?”
I choked on a laugh. “Mia!”
The customer waiting for her drink grinned at the exchange, and I felt my ears turn red. Perfect. Small-town life meant nothing stayed secret. Not even half-formed crushes on surly men who had no business making me blush like a teenager.
I shoved the pastry boxes across the counter and focused on the task at hand. Still, my thoughts kept circling back, stubborn and dangerous.
Easton Holt unsettled me, rattled me, and then walked away as if his coming over and talking to me meant nothing.
But the worst part was that I already knew it probably hadn’t meant anything at all, because all he’d done was come over for a little small talk.
By the time the morning rush had died down, I’d reminded my brain that men weren’t my jam right now.
My picker was broken anyway. The shop was busy, with all the seating areas crammed full, which made my little business owner’s heart content.
It also meant that my own muscles were humming from hours of kneading dough, pouring coffee, and smiling until my cheeks hurt. It was a good hurt, though.
I’d left Mia in charge of the counter while I retrieved my display cart and loaded it with the new book that would complete the end display for the crime fiction section.
It took me about an hour, but I was satisfied when I finished draping the end table and angling the new release with a few other genre-related books.
I also added a ‘blind date with a killer’ and ‘blind date with a detective’ option.
My shoppers loved those, but I typically only did them in one category every other week.
But none of it was enough to erase the way East had looked at me that night at the Public House.
I’d danced. I’d laughed. I’d ignored the curious glances of the men who’d asked for turns on the floor.
And then East had been there, hanging out with Wade and Cole, watching me like I’d been the only person in the room.
The kind of look you feel in your bones.
And just when I thought something might actually spark between us, he’d shut it down with that too-casual exit, leaving me hot and flustered and—God help me—wanting more.
Now, a week later, I was trying to drown that memory in customer chatter. It wasn’t working.
“Lila.” Mia nudged me with her hip as she slid a mocha across the counter. “You okay? You’ve been zoning out so hard, I thought maybe you’d astral-projected back to girls’ night.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, fussing with the pastry case. The glass was already clean enough to see through, but I wiped it again anyway.
Mia smirked, her neon-pink streaks catching the light. “Uh-huh. Totally fine. Not thinking about a certain Holt brother and the way he looks in Wranglers.”
I spun on her, my voice low. “Mia!”
Her grin grew wider. “Relax. Half the women in town have had the same thought. You just might have caught his eye, too. Sage and I were talking about it.”
My cheeks flamed, which was unfair, because Mia did not need more ammunition. “He hasn’t caught my anything. And for the record, he’s grumpy enough to scare off most rational people.”
“Good thing you’re not rational,” Mia chirped, already moving on to her next drink order.
I pressed my lips together, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer. Even if he had caught my attention or stirred any interest, it wasn’t smart. I had a lot going on right now.
By noon, the shop had settled into its usual midday rhythm.
Moms argued with kids over sprinkles, retirees chatted over second cups, and I floated between the coffee counter and the bookstore side.
This was my happy place, no doubt about it.
Not even some whacko breaking into my house with a death threat was going to wreck this for me.
But when the bell over the door jingled just after two, my stomach dipped and soared like I was on a roller coaster, and those butterflies started up.
Because there he was, his broad shoulders damp from the drizzle outside, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the shop like he expected a fight to break out between the cinnamon buns and the scones.
I froze behind the counter at the computer where I’d been inputting new stock.
He looked different here in the daylight. Less shadows and IPA, more rain and sawdust. Still gorgeous, still the last person I needed barging into my carefully balanced world. Every time he was around me, the walls just weakened, and I wasn’t sure how to keep them up.
Mia’s elbow found my ribs before I could recover. “Well, look who it is,” she whispered. “Your favorite customer.”
“Shut up,” I hissed, setting aside the book I was working on.
East approached the counter, his gaze locking on me with unnerving precision. “Maggie wants muffins. Cinnamon Sugar. Thought I’d stop in and pick them up. I wouldn’t say no to a roll.”
“Of course,” I managed, reaching for a pastry box, trying not to seethe that there wasn’t more of a personal reason behind it before I asked myself what the heck I was thinking. “How’s she doing?”
His jaw softened just a little. “Better. Still stubborn. Healing. She wants to stop using her crutches, but that’s not going to happen. Keeps telling Chloe she doesn’t need half the therapy sessions, but she’s made a lot of progress.”
“That sounds like Lo Lo,” I said, smiling before I could stop. “Always trying to direct things, but I believe in Maggie. She has all of you here to help her. She’s lucky.”
Something flickered in his eyes at that, quick and sharp, like maybe he wasn’t sure about the lucky part. But before I could dig into it or wonder about it, he cleared his throat.
I slid the box of muffins and his roll toward him, my fingers brushing the edge just as his hand closed around it. A jolt shot through me, sharp and stupid, and I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned.
“Cinnamon Sugar,” I said too brightly. “Still warm.”
He grunted, tucking the box under his arm. For a moment, he didn’t move, just stood there, his eyes fixed on me like he was trying to figure something out.
And then he tipped his chin. “Thanks.”
“Mhm. See you.” I busied myself with sticking a pen back in the jar that was still on the countertop. Anything to avoid the weight of his stare.
The bell over the door jingled again, drawing him toward it. He nodded slightly and left, the scent of rain and cedar lingering behind him.
I exhaled, my heart pounding so hard I was surprised Mia couldn’t hear it over the espresso machine.
She leaned across the counter, grinning like a cat with cream. “So. Totally not into him, huh?”
I dropped my head into my hands. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” she sing-songed. “Now tell me you didn’t just imagine him carrying you off like some grumpy lumberjack hero.”
I groaned. However, the problem was that I had totally imagined it. Derek was the last man I had been with, and that was pretty sad for so many disappointing reasons.
Focusing on work, I got busy with that, and sent Mia to the bank and the post office so we could get set for the evening.
By six-thirty, Chapter & Crumb had transformed.
The shop lights glowed warmer, and the smell of popcorn mixed with the familiar remnants of pastry and sugar.
Jurassic Park trivia cards waited at each chair, along with little folded programs that Mia had insisted on printing.
She’d also talked me into a playlist of “jungle ambiance,” complete with chirping crickets and distant thunder.