Chapter 11
Sixth Week of Faire
“Are you alive?” Margo asked early the next morning. Her voice sounded distant as she made the call from her car on her way to work.
“Yes,” Lilian said. “How are you feeling?”
“Nothing a gallon of green tea can’t fix.”
Lilian smiled into her mug as she sipped her morning coffee. She wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, but on days like this, she was grateful the shop wasn’t open on Mondays. She was able to take her time getting out of bed and catching up on the work she’d missed while sick.
“Whatcha do all day?” Margo asked. “I wasn’t able to do anything except watch TV, and even that got interrupted by frequent bouts of upchucking.”
“Same,” Lilian answered. “Tried to read, caught up on some rest, and then—” She froze right before she was about to say, “And then I got a surprise visit from Hawk Carlisle.”
But it was too late. Margo heard the sudden interruption and latched on to it. “And then…” Her friend coaxed.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Hawk came by my house,” she said quickly.
“What?!” Car tires screeched on the other end of the line, followed by the distant noise of someone honking. “Jesus,” Margo cursed, “I’m still not fully recovered. Now is not the time to hit me with one of your funny jokes.”
“I’m not joking,” Lilian said. “He came by to apologize about the turkey leg.” A beat settled between them before she added, “And he brought soup.”
She thought the bit about the soup would help explain the situation better. Make it sound less… cozy.
It did nothing of the sort.
“Where’s my apology soup?” Margo demanded.
“I have some leftovers, if you’d like some.”
“Oh, no. I’m not taking any more food provided by that man.”
“Then why did you ask for soup?”
“It’s the principle,” Margo said, “I’d gladly accept a face mask or some fuzzy socks of apology.”
Lilian burst into laughter. “I’ll let him know.”
The other end of the line grew quiet except for a low, drawn-out hum that made her feel like a child who had given the teacher the wrong answer. Was Margo mad at her? It was impossible to tell on the phone. A spike of anxiety wedged itself in her chest, but Margo spoke before she could apologize.
“So how was it?”
“The soup? It was fine. Canned soup really isn’t much to write home about.”
“No.” Margo huffed in laughter. “Having Hawk in your house. Cooking your food! We need to talk about this. There is something going on between the two of you.”
This was what she’d been afraid of. “There is nothing going on between us. I told you he offered to help me with the bookshop. And yesterday he felt guilty—”
“Lilian, no.” Margo’s teacher voice cut through her explanation with a firmness that had been known to make kindergarteners cry.
“Stop trying to downplay this. The man stopped by your house and brought you soup. After he went and got us turkey legs. Sure, he might have doused the meat in poison before giving it to us, but he didn’t have to get us lunch. ”
“We paid him back,” she added weakly, but Margo was on a tirade.
“He’s been stopping by the shop more.”
“Because he agreed to help.”
“Because he likes you.”
“What?” The words hit her like cold water, shocking her to her core. A giggle of disbelief bubbled out before she could stop it. “No way. There’s no way. Hawk hates the Ren Faire and the costumes and the food.”
“Funny. I didn’t hear ‘adorable single bookseller’ on that list.”
“He hates me!” she insisted. “He makes fun of all the things I love. He hates that I’m a disorganized mess who’s failing at business. And he’s only feeding me out of pity, but apparently even that we can’t get right.”
“Oh, this is adorable,” Margo hummed.
There was no mistaking it anymore. Where Lilian had once heard disapproval in her friend’s voice, she now recognized pure amusement. As if this was another plot line on one of Margo’s beloved reality TV shows.
“I can’t with this. It’s ridiculous.”
“I agree.”
“He hates me.”
“How many romance novels have you read with the heroine saying the exact same thing?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
She jammed the end call button on Margo’s cackling. Margo had it all wrong. There was no way Hawk liked her.
Okay, maybe they weren’t sworn enemies anymore. And maybe they were moving toward being… friends. But that didn’t mean anything else was going on.
As she sat down to make her daily to-do list for the shop, her phone buzzed again. Lilian prepared herself for another round of questions and speculation from Margo but froze at the name and the message attached to it.
Tyrant Prince
How are you feeling today?
Lilian bit her lip, unsure how to react. It was just a question. An innocent question between friends, right?
Margo’s voice echoed in her mind. “How many romance novels…”
She squashed the sentence before it could finish.
Much better actually.
Tyrant Prince
Good.
Tyrant Prince
Because I have free time today, want to have another business brainstorming session?
Lilian stared at the response. Half relieved and half…
something else. They’d just seen each other last night.
After soup, Hawk had stayed to watch one more episode of The Lion’s' Den. When he had left, she’d been almost sad to see him go.
Now, not even twelve hours later, he was asking to meet up again.
Excitement tickled her stomach as she typed out her response.
You have my attention. Meet at the store? Same time as last week?
Tyrant Prince
Actually, I was thinking we would take a field trip.
Hawk’s sleek white truck stood out among Tenison’s rusted utility vehicles. Being from a farm town meant mostly everyone had a truck. But Hawk’s practically had a neon sign on it that said, Never driven on a gravel road.
“Hey,” he greeted, turning down the twang of guitars blaring on the radio. “You look better.”
“I feel better.” Lilian opened the door and took in the truck’s meticulous interior. Yep, totally free of dirt. It smelled of clean leather and Pine-Sol. The dashboard lit up like the cockpit of a plane, with a digital map on display.
“I hope you weren’t pushing yourself by agreeing to this.”
“I’m fine,” she said, settling in. The leather was already sticking to her exposed skin.
It was building up to be another hot day, and she’d opted for comfort.
“Besides, you can’t entice me with a field trip and not expect me to go to…
where is it we’re going exactly?” She watched as the main street of Tenison disappeared behind them and was quickly replaced with cornfields and pastures.
They were heading toward Manhattan, which wasn’t surprising, considering it was the closest thing to a city in a hundred miles.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Oh, come on,” Lilian pleaded. “What if I hate it? This is kidnapping.”
His lips quirked up. “I have documented evidence that you agreed to go with me.”
“Damn, I didn’t realize I was so easy to kidnap.”
“If it makes you feel better. I’ll get you coffee when we get there.”
It did make her feel better. But her Midwest politeness was out before she could think better of it. “You don’t have to. You already brought me soup.”
“That was nothing,” he said. “Besides, it’s my fault you haven’t been able to do much work around the store. So let me make it up to you.”
He had her there. And honestly, Lilian wasn’t as good about pushing back as her mother and father were when it came to help. If someone was going to offer her something for free, she wasn’t going to fight them on it. “All right,” she agreed, “I’ll let you treat me.”
Hawk laughed. “That wasn’t hard at all.”
She worried that the drive would be awkward. Their newfound ceasefire was tenuous, and the topics of discussion were limited. But she filled the time by complaining about her extensive list of to-dos around the shop, and Hawk actually listened to her.
More than that. He asked pointed questions about what she was going to do with extra inventory. How much time each task would take. And helped her prioritize.
He did it all in a tone that was patient and considerate. Before, when she’d talked to Margo or even Alex about the work of overhauling the bookstore, it became a one-way conversation. They were supportive, but their minds weren’t in it the same way Lilian’s was.
With Hawk, she could see the gears turning. He heard everything she said, every concern, every plan, and then he got to work on a way to make it more efficient. To make it better.
Hawk somehow sounded as if he cared as much about her little bookstore as he would any other business.
Slowly, she found herself relaxing into the leather passenger seat. She’d meant what she’d told Margo—she wasn’t attracted to Hawk, though he was an attractive man. They were complete opposites. He clearly didn’t feel anything toward her.
This strange thing between them was more like a business partnership.
And it turned out they actually got along pretty well like that.
Finally, Hawk pulled into a small strip mall and parked. Lilian took in their surroundings eagerly, noting a dentist's office, a boutique, and… a bookshop. One she recognized instantly.
“The Pretty Pages?” she asked, turning to Hawk.
“Have you been here?” He lifted his sunglasses and eyed the building, face inscrutable.
“Of course.” Manhattan only had two bookshops. The Dusty Bookshop—a Manhattan favorite that sold both used and new books—and The Pretty Pages. The latter was a recent addition, but Lilian made sure to stop by whenever she was in town for her mother’s chemo.
“Great. I got in touch with the owner and told her about you. She agreed to meet with you to talk about strategy.”
“You did what?” Lilian reeled back. Hot embarrassment scourged through her. “What did you tell her exactly?” That her business was failing? That she was totally impotent at selling books? She should have known better than to trust Hawk.
“I told her you are a new bookstore owner looking for insight on running a business.” Hawk sounded entirely too calm for her liking.