Chapter 27
Ava
If someone built a cathedral for book lovers, this would be it.
“This place looks like Beauty and the Beast opened an indie bookstore in the east wing.”
Harrison glances around the massive vintage bank building, openly admiring the architecture. “Romance readers really will turn anything into foreplay.”
“Stop mocking me and find me a Costco-sized shopping cart.” I stare around in awe. “How have I not known about this?”
Towering shelves stretch toward exposed rafters. Tunnels made from stacked novels twist through the center of the store while warm yellow lights glow overhead like tiny floating moons.
I stop dead in the middle of The Last Bookstore and slowly turn in a circle.
“It’s the happiest place on Earth,” I sigh.
Harrison smirks beside me. “Pretty sure that term is trademarked.”
I ignore him and point. “There’s an actual labyrinth.”
“You say that like you’ve discovered Atlantis.”
“Haven’t I?”
We wander deeper, and somehow every room gets better.
Rare books behind glass.
Massive art books.
Tiny handwritten staff recommendation cards tucked beneath shelves.
I stop beneath the massive tunnel made entirely of books and stare up at it like I’ve just stumbled across a time portal.
“Harrison.”
“Mmm?”
“I love you.”
His mouth curves before he leans down to kiss me softly. “Love you too, book nerd.”
Then he hands me a small flyer.
I glance down and nearly have a heart attack at two words.
OVERNIGHT EXPERIENCE.
“Shut the front door.” My eyes widen. “Oh my God. You can spend the night in the bookstore.”
He absently pulls a book from the shelf and flips it open. “Pretty sure that’s how at least half the horror movies start.”
I point at the flyer excitedly. “Here. Like an actual sleepover. Rare books. Secret rooms. Reading after dark.” I gasp.
His mouth twitches. “Like a haunted mansion?”
“For book people.”
I gasp as we turn another corner and find towering shelves disappearing toward the ceiling.
“Connor and Ollie would lose their minds in here.”
“Snooki too,” he says. “She’d probably try to move in permanently.”
“I can totally see a blanket fort here.”
I grin at him over my shoulder. “You know the most amazing thing about this place?”
“What?”
“It feels hidden. Like the whole world outside disappears while you slip away.”
His expression softens in that quiet way that always sneaks up on me.
His hand settles along my hip as he kisses me right there between towering shelves of hardcovers and lavender-scented candles.
The slow sweep of his tongue tells me he’s completely forgotten we’re standing in the middle of a bookstore and not alone somewhere with significantly fewer witnesses.
“He’s a keeper, dear.”
We break apart.
A woman stands nearby with a Banned Books Club tote slung over one shoulder, silver bracelets chiming quietly together. Her gray hair is tucked into a loose bun, bright scarves wrapped around her with the kind of warmth that makes you immediately trust her book recommendations.
I blink. “Huh?”
“A keeper,” she repeats easily. “You can tell a great deal about a person by the books they reach for.”
Harrison’s mouth twitches. “And what do these say about her?” he asks, pointing toward the stack in my arms.
The woman studies his books with the concentration of someone reading tea leaves.
Vampire romance.
Billionaire romance.
Another billionaire romance.
Mountain man romance, naturally.
And a gorgeous sunset-colored copy of Eat, Pray, Love that’s basically impossible to find. Yes, I already own it. But this version looks like it belongs in a tiny café in Italy, so naturally I needed it too.
“Romance. Fantasy. Adventure.” Her gaze lifts back to mine, warm and knowing. “A hopeless romantic.”
“Guilty,” I admit with a grin before pointing toward Harrison’s stack. “Okay, your turn.”
“Oh, he’s easy.” She apparently already checked out his armful.
Military history.
Wilderness survival.
Wood-Fired Cooking: The Essentials.
And somehow, alarmingly: How to Survive an Abduction: Ten Ways to Escape a Trunk.
Her brows lift slightly.
“This one,” she says thoughtfully, “could survive anything. Pretends he likes being alone, but secretly wants someone waiting for him at the end of the day.”Then she leans closer to me.
“And he desperately needs a woman’s touch.”
Harrison rolls his eyes, but pulls me that much closer against his side.
Then the woman smiles at me again.
“And he won’t mind your travels, dear. Not really.”
My smile flickers with a sharp rush of panic.
For one horrifying second, it feels like she’s reached into my chest, plucked out the truth, and handed it directly to Harrison for inspection.
And suddenly, anything that comes out of my mouth feels like a lie.
It’s either that or tell him I’m about to leave the country for the foreseeable future and completely crap all over his beautiful day.
The woman is already drifting away through the aisle, thank God.
I force out a laugh and look up at him. “Oh, don’t listen to her. She’s using paperbacks as tarot cards and probably mistook Eat, Pray, Love for a travel guide.”
Okay, that was definitely a lie.
He shakes his head. “I think she’s onto something.”
My breath catches. “You do?”
“Her saying I’d survive being stuffed in a trunk,” he says dryly. “It’s like she looked directly into my soul.”
After an hour of getting completely lost in books, it’s finally time to leave.
I’m dying to see the kids and hear all about their day.
I found books for all of them and already have matching bookbag patches in mind. Watching them get excited over something I make fills me up in a way I can’t explain.
Connor, on the other hand, has absolutely no interest in patches. He’s deep in his sticker era. The kid treats water bottles like sponsorship opportunities.
Every day, we text ideas back and forth, designing stickers together. He’s a ridiculously good artist.
Between Canva, my Cricut, and Connor’s obsession with zombies, we’re basically rebuilding civilization one undead sticker at a time.
At the checkout counter, Harrison steers me toward a tiny display of bookmarks near the register.
Leather ones.
Metal ones.
Handmade ones with tiny charms dangling from ribbons.
My fingers pause on a tiny marigold charm tied to a deep plum silk cord.
It catches me instantly.
Harrison notices immediately.
“Get it.”
“It’s just a bookmark.”
“And?”
My lips twist. “I already have bookmarks.”
“You also already have books. That hasn’t stopped you today.”
Fair point.
I smile and reach for it, but Harrison beats me to it, handing it to the cashier before I can protest.
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.”
My chest does that stupid achy thing again.
We check out and are heading for the door when Harrison pauses beside me. “You look like a girl who could use a triple-shot oat milk cappuccino with one pump vanilla, one pump brown sugar, extra dry, dusted with cinnamon.”
I feel my smile go absolutely ridiculous.
He memorized my coffee order.
God, this man just keeps getting hotter.
“Yes, please.”
He leans down and kisses me softly, casually, like kissing me all day has already become second nature. “Be right back.”
The second he disappears toward the café counter, my phone buzzes.
I unlock the screen. My stomach drops.
It’s my director.
Best Director Ever
Studio officially committed.
Three months in Iceland.
Six weeks on. One off. Six back.
Then Scotland for the rest of filming.
What the ever loving fluff…
I text him back.
Me
How long is “the rest of filming”?
Three dots appear instantly.
Best Director Ever
Not sure
I know exactly what that means.
No clue yet means they’re already scouting locations for the next film, and there’s a very real chance one project rolls straight into the next while I quietly disappear overseas for who knows how long.
How is it that my dream job is turning into a total disaster?
Another text follows.
Best Director Ever
Are you in?
I would’ve called your manager, but…
Right.
Because at present time, I don’t actually have a manager.
Though at this point, I’m dangerously close to begging Chase’s sister, Sienna, to take me on. I know the PR Queen is swamped, but she’s the best.
And yes, I’ve always thought mixing friendship with business was a terrible idea, but my life has become a runaway shopping cart with one broken wheel, so desperation is officially entering the chat.
Besides, she already manages Chase and his brothers. What’s one more problem child?
Hmm… I bet she’d have amazing advice on how to break life-altering news to the man standing twenty feet away ordering my coffee.
My chest tightens.
I already know what she’d say.
Tell him.
Before he finds out from the press.
Another text pops onto my screen.
Best Director Ever
With the studio execs now.
Need answer.
Bueller.
Bueller?
I really need to talk to Harrison before this blindsides him completely.
Iceland for two back-to-back six-week stints is bad enough.
But Scotland for who knows how long?
I can already picture the vein throbbing in the center of Harrison’s forehead.
And somehow, the thought of telling the kids feels infinitely worse.
I take a breath and remind myself this is the opportunity of a lifetime.
The role of a lifetime.
Actors don’t walk away from projects like this.
Not without committing career suicide.
Swallowing hard, I start typing out a response.
Me
Of course I’m in.
Thank you for this opportunity.
You’re the best!
Best Director Ever
WELCOME TO ICELAND, BABY.
Pack warm.
Get ready for landscapes so beautiful they’ll make you cry on cue.
A few minutes later, Harrison returns with my coffee and a breathtaking grin.
“I can’t believe you know my drink.”
“And now that I do, Pix, you’re never, ever allowed to change it.”
I reach for my coffee, fully prepared to rip off the bandage. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He lifts it out of reach. “Sorry. I only work in trades.”
Despite the anxiety clawing at my ribs, I laugh and rise onto my toes to pay the man in a kiss.
Which immediately turns into him kissing me within an inch of my life.
One hand slides around my waist. The other keeps my coffee just out of reach.
My knees go weak.
God, can this man kiss.
By the time he finally hands over the cappuccino, I feel pleasantly detached from gravity.
He hands me the coffee as we leave the bookstore, books swinging from one hand while the other keeps me tucked against his side.
It’s like whenever we’re near each other. An invisible magnetic force keeps pulling us together.
He kisses my temple. “What did you need to tell me?”
I’m still taking my first sip when camera flashes explode around us.
Voices erupt from every direction.
Then all hell breaks loose.