Chapter Twenty-Seven
“THAT THE LAST OF ’em?” Hunter asked, mopping his brow. It was only sixty degrees, but it had been forty up in Heart’s Hope Crossing that morning when they’d left.
They were about an hour outside New York City, loading an absurd number of boxes of books into the back of his truck. He didn’t mind, exactly. In most situations, he’d consider a few hours driving back roads with Emma to be a pretty great way to spend a day.
These weren’t back roads they’d been driving, though.
They were twenty-seven-lane highways, jammed with traffic in every direction.
People kept honking and cutting him off and screaming obscenities at him—and it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to drive in the city, or in the hellscape that was the semisuburban sprawl just beyond the city.
He just avoided it at all costs.
And yet here he was, willingly doing it.
The first leg of the trip had taken four hours in “light traffic”; who knew how long it would take to get back.
To make matters worse, they were edging closer and closer to rush hour.
If they didn’t make it to the Vermont border before the evening bedlam started, he might have a total meltdown.
Emma chewed on her lip, cross-referencing her list. He’d thought they were done half an hour ago, but then she’d realized that they were missing two boxes, which had led to a whole rigamarole with a couple of apathetic warehouse employees having to go searching for them.
He appreciated her attention to detail, and he really, really appreciated her dedication to making sure they wouldn’t have to repeat this trip tomorrow. But still.
“Yup,” she finally pronounced. “That’s everything.”
Thank the Maker.
“All right, then.” It wasn’t supposed to rain, but he still pulled a tarp over the boxes, then raised the tailgate. Swinging his keys around on his finger, he headed for the cab. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
She waved goodbye, thanking the workers who had helped them, and then got in with him. Before buckling up, she put her hand over his, though.
“Thank you. Again.” She winced. “I really appreciate you doing this.”
He exhaled, forcing himself to soften and slow down. “It’s fine. I’m happy to help.”
“No, you’re not.” She laughed, leaning over the gearshift to touch his cheek and tilt his head toward her. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Which is why I appreciate it even more.”
When she went to move away, he held on to her, keeping her close for one more kiss. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so grumpy.”
“I like you grumpy.” Shifting back into her seat, she fastened her seat belt and shrugged. “I just don’t like being the reason you’re grumpy.”
“You’re not.” He put the truck into gear. “New York City traffic is.”
“I am so, so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hunter muttered through gritted teeth. Ahead, there was nothing but a sea of taillights. If he didn’t have a metric ton of books in the back of the truck, he’d consider getting out and walking.
Their attempts to get past the city before rush hour had been stymied by an accident on a bridge that apparently took half an hour to clear. Things had only snowballed from there.
“Just.” He exhaled through his nose and did his best to force a smile. “Maybe next time, spring for delivery?”
She let out a despairing laugh. “If I’m still here next year.”
An ice-cold bucket of water slid down his spine. He jerked his head around. “What? You’re leaving?”
“I mean, when Granny fires me, I’m not sure what other option I’m going to have.”
Her tone was flippant, which was completely unfair, considering he might have just had a minor coronary event.
“Oh.” He struggled for calm, but as aggravated as he already was on account of the traffic, he was pretty sure he missed by a mile. Then he rolled his eyes. “Granny’s not going to fire you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She was chewing on her nails, something he’d never really seen her do before.
His brow crinkled. “None of this was your fault.”
“I know, but…”
He shook his head, not accepting whatever rationale she was about to give for why this situation that definitely wasn’t her fault also probably was.
She’d explained to him what happened the better part of a week ago, when she’d first approached him about making this godforsaken trip, and then again last night.
They’d now been stuck in this truck for…
six hours and counting so far today, so he’d heard every version of the story.
He wasn’t tired of it, by any means. Emma could read the phone book to him, and he’d listen, and her feelings were impossibly important to him.
But he didn’t have any more patience left for her saying unkind things about herself.
“If anything,” he interrupted, “you’ve been heroic, pulling this whole thing together at the last minute.”
He’d told her that before, too, but maybe this time it would stick?
She snorted delicately, dropping her hand from her mouth and turning to stare out the window. “Well, we’ll see.”
He let the silence hold for a minute. He should probably just let it go, but she’d rattled him. “You don’t really think you’re going to get fired, do you?”
She shrugged.
Hunter couldn’t believe it. Not even a bit. “Granny wouldn’t. She—”
“Had a good feeling about me, I know.” Emma threw her hands up. “She’s not actually clairvoyant, though.”
“Eh…” He tipped his hand back and forth.
He didn’t believe in sixth senses any more than he believed in fate playing matchmaker on random street corners. But he had to admit that Granny’s gut had an eerily good track record.
“Wait, you don’t think—”
“I don’t know.” He really didn’t. “But if she’s told you she has faith in you, then she means it.”
She didn’t argue with him on that point, which was progress, honestly. But there was a tension in the air that told him she wanted to.
Exhaling deeply, he reached over and put his hand on her leg. Touching her made him feel better, and maybe it did the same for her.
“Even if I’m wrong, though.” His voice grated. “If things, uh, don’t work out at the bookshop—which they will, just so we’re clear.”
“Yeah?”
“You—I mean.” His stomach gave a nervous, twitchy flutter. “You could stay.”
Her dour expression cracked, a hint of a smile shining through. She placed her hand over his, giving his palm a soft squeeze. “Could I?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think Granny would let me live in the apartment if I weren’t working there anymore.”
“She wouldn’t kick you out.” Of that much he was completely sure. “At least not without a ton of notice. And if she tried to, the whole town would have an uprising.”
Emma laughed. “That seems extreme.”
Did it, though? She’d only been here a little over a month, but she’d made fast friends with so many folks. Couldn’t she see that?
“And if even that didn’t sway her…” His throat tightened, and a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
He directed his gaze outward at the never-ending line of cars idling in front of him, pulling his hand back to place it on the steering wheel, scarcely able to believe that he was about to say this. “You could always stay with me.”
She hesitated for a second, maybe understanding that this was a big step he was taking here, even bringing it up. “That’s really nice of you to offer. I still don’t know what I’d do for work, though.”
“You’d find something.” Was he starting to sound desperate?
God, this was pathetic.
“There just aren’t a lot of jobs for professional bookworms in middle-of-nowhere Vermont, you know? Heck, before I accepted Granny’s offer, there weren’t a lot of options in the city, either, but I have that lead that my friend sent me…”
His throat closed up again. “I thought you said it wasn’t a good fit.”
“It’s hard to say. I still haven’t talked to that HR person she was supposed to set me up with.”
HR? How serious was this? And why hadn’t she told him she was considering it? “Do you want to talk to them?”
“Of course not. Conversations with HR reps are the ninth circle of hell.”
“But other than that.”
“I don’t know.” Frustration started leaking into her tone. “What other choice do I have?”
He forced himself to take a deep breath. “There are always options. Just.” He swallowed. “If you want to stay in Heart’s Hope Crossing, things might open up. They have a way of doing that, you know?”
“So I hear,” she said, dryly but amused.
“People care about you.” His throat was so tight now he could hardly breathe. “They’d be happy to help out.”
A month ago, the idea of anybody living with him would have given him hives, but now? He wouldn’t just be “happy to help out.” He’d be ecstatic.
And the idea that she might not be? That was what made him feel like he might break out in a rash.
She hummed in acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t seem to have much to say in reply.
His fingers twitched restlessly. He could turn on the radio.
Or earlier, they’d been listening to an audiobook she’d picked out—a sci-fi story he’d been enjoying more than he would have expected to.
At least until they’d hit White Plains and he’d had to have her turn it off so he could focus on the absolute mayhem careening around him on the road.
But they didn’t need a distraction right now, no matter how much he might want one.
This whole past month, he’d been letting himself get distracted. This time with Emma had meant so much to him. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what it might be like if it didn’t mean as much to her.
If she decided to leave.
Gripping the steering wheel too tightly, he turned his head to the side, looking past her at the city skyline to the east.
“Do you ever miss it?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She followed his sightline, and a small smile curled her lips. “Manhattan?”
“Yeah.”
“A little,” she admitted, and the plastic of the steering wheel threatened to crack. “There were always cool cultural things going on, and new restaurants popping up. And I had a friend or two I miss.” She shrugged, shaking her head slightly. “What I sure don’t miss is the traffic, though.”
“Yeah.” He forced a chuckle, but it sounded flat.
She looked at him, and he met her gaze. “Heart’s Hope Crossing has really been growing on me, though.”
But was that enough?
“Good,” he managed to say.
Up ahead, cars slowly started to inch forward, the endless stream of brake lights finally giving way. With relief, he dared to tap the gas pedal himself.
As they started moving again, a little bit of his angst faded, replaced by relief.
But deep in his gut, he had a sinking feeling.
The relief was only temporary.