Chapter 9
Rachel
Rachel had been to The Dust Shelf approximately four hundred times in her life.
It was her favorite place in Gandy, a three-story converted house stuffed with floor-to-ceiling shelves, creaky wooden floors, and the smell of old paper and possibility. The owner, Gus, had been collecting books for forty years and seemed to know the location of every single one.
Bringing Mac here felt significant and slightly terrifying.
"Okay," Rachel said as they stood outside the shop, her hands twisted nervously in front of her. "Some ground rules. First: don't judge me for how many books I buy. Second: when I disappear into the stacks for an hour, that's normal. Third: if you get bored, tell me. We can leave."
Mac looked at her with that patient, amused expression he got when she was overthinking. "Rachel. We're going book shopping. I'm not going to get bored."
"You might. Books aren't everyone's thing."
"They're your thing. So I'm making them my thing." Mac opened the door, the bell above it chiming. "Now come on. Show me your world, remember?"
The shop was quiet on a Saturday afternoon, just a few browsers scattered among the stacks. Gus looked up from behind the counter, saw Rachel, and immediately grinned.
"Little Morrison! Haven't seen you in months!" Gus was seventy-something, with wild white hair and reading glasses perpetually perched on his forehead. "Thought you'd moved to Mars."
"Just Evergreen Cove. Close enough." Rachel crossed to the counter and accepted Gus's brief hug. "Gus, this is Mac. Mac, Gus."
"Boyfriend?" Gus asked, looking Mac up and down with shameless interest.
Rachel's cheeks heated. "We're— I mean, we've been on a few dates—"
"The boyfriend then," Mac confirmed, extending his hand with that easy confidence Rachel envied. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"Sir? I like him already." Gus shook Mac's hand vigorously. "You treat Little Morrison right, you hear me? She's special."
"I know she is."
The simple certainty in Mac's voice made Rachel's heart skip.
"Well then." Gus gestured expansively at the shop. "Browse away. New stock came in yesterday. Romance is upstairs, mystery is in the back, and the good stuff is wherever you find it."
Rachel led Mac deeper into the shop, running her fingers along familiar spines. "Okay, confession time. I might have gotten a little excited and made a list."
"A list?"
Rachel pulled out her phone, showing Mac a carefully organized spreadsheet. "Books I want you to read so you understand my entire personality through literature. It's color-coded by genre and importance."
Mac stared at the spreadsheet. Then at Rachel. Then back at the spreadsheet.
"This list has thirty-seven books on it."
"I shortened it from ninety-two."
"Rachel."
"What? Thirty-seven books is a very reasonable introduction to my literary preferences!" Rachel grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the stairs. "Come on. We're starting with the essentials."
The romance section was Rachel's happy place. Floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with everything from historical to contemporary to paranormal. She pulled Mac into the narrow aisle, immediately scanning titles with the focused intensity of a hunter.
Mac watched her with unconcealed fascination.
"What?" Rachel asked, noticing his stare.
"You're different here. More... you." Mac leaned against the shelf, his arms crossed, smiling. "The librarian Rachel is very professional and composed. This Rachel is practically vibrating with book excitement."
"Books make me happy."
"I can tell. It's adorable."
Rachel's cheeks flushed. She turned back to the shelf, pulling out a worn copy of The Hating Game. "Okay, this one. You have to read this one. It's enemies-to-lovers perfection and the banter is—"
She turned to hand Mac the book and found him much closer than expected.
They were in a narrow aisle. Very narrow. Mac's body was inches from hers, one hand braced on the shelf beside her head, his green eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Mac?"
"Hmm?" His gaze dropped to her lips.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to decide if kissing you in a bookstore is romantic or cliché."
Rachel's pulse jumped. "Maybe both?"
"I can live with both." Mac's free hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Is this okay?"
"Yes." The word came out breathier than Rachel intended.
Mac kissed her slowly, carefully, like he was savoring every second. His lips were soft and warm and perfect, and when Rachel made a small sound of surprise and pleasure, Mac deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers.
Rachel forgot how to think.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. Mac pressed her gently back against the bookshelf, the books digging into her spine but Rachel didn't care because Mac was kissing her like she was precious and necessary and—
A book fell off the shelf above them, landing on Mac's head with a solid thunk.
They broke apart, both laughing.
"Occupational hazard of bookstore making out," Mac said, rubbing his head and picking up the fallen book. "The Duke's Convenient Bride. Is this a sign?"
"That you should read more historical romance? Absolutely."
"I was thinking it's a sign we should get out of this aisle before more books attack me." But Mac was grinning, his hand finding hers naturally. "Although for the record? Totally worth the head injury."
They browsed for another hour. Rachel showed Mac her favorite authors, explained why certain books mattered, rambled about literary themes and character development. Mac listened to all of it, asked questions, seemed genuinely interested.
When they finally left, Rachel was carrying a bag with twelve new books (she'd shown admirable restraint, truly), and Mac was carrying three books Rachel had insisted he needed to read immediately.
"You know," Mac said as they walked to his truck, "I never thought I'd enjoy book shopping this much."
"Really?"
"Really. Watching you light up over books? That's—" Mac stopped, searching for words. "It's the best thing I've seen all week."
Rachel's chest tightened with something that felt suspiciously like falling.
"Mac?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for wanting to understand my world."
Mac set the books in the truck bed and turned to face her fully. "Rachel, I don't just want to understand your world. I want to be part of it. The books, the library, all of it. Because you're in it."
He said it so simply, like it was obvious, like there was no question.
Rachel stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, right there in the parking lot, putting into the kiss what she couldn't quite say yet.
I'm falling for you. Please don't break my heart.
Mac kissed her back, his hands gentle on her waist, and Rachel thought maybe, just maybe, he understood anyway.