Chapter 6
Since it wasmy day off, I indulged in a leisurely visit to the bookstore. A waft of aging parchment and worn leather greeted me like an old friend as I pushed open the door to Tome Sweet Tome, one of my favorite places in Serenity Falls. A brisk autumn wind followed me inside, bringing with it a flurry of amber leaves that pirouetted momentarily in the warm glow of the shop before settling on the worn wooden floor.
Venturing further within, I glanced to the left at the spiral staircase that led up to a loft filled with antique hardbacks. Tucked away in the corner was a reading nook, crammed with soft sofas and Tiffany lamps.
I went straight to the romance section and browsed the titles.
Hmmm, what am I in the mood for today? A classic romance? Or a contemporary love story?
My fingers traced the spines on the shelves, feeling the texture of each volume. I slid a paperback from its slot; the cover featuring a shirtless man with a scantily clad woman in his arms.
“This one looks promising.” Cradling the book, I turned to the first page.
A jolt against my shoulder ripped me from the story. Whirling around, I found myself inches from Bishop. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and for a split second, the world blurred except for him. If this were a romance novel, we would have locked eyes, sparks would have flown, and violins would have started playing in the background. But alas, in real life, all that happened was me stumbling backward and awkwardly colliding with a bookshelf.
He reached out and gripped my upper-arms to steady me. “I didn’t me to startle you.”
A thrill from our unexpected meeting simmered inside me. My gaze darted from the veins on his strong arms to his chiseled jaw, my heart skittering. The warmth from our accidental collision still lingered on my skin.
I grinned. “It’s okay. Looks like you’ve mastered the art of sweeping a girl off her feet.”
One side of his mouth quirked and he released his grip. “Oh, you know me. Always leaving a trail of swooning women behind me wherever I go.”
I giggled and clutched my romance novel tighter. “What’re you doing here? Not stalking me already, are you?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I wanted to swing by the bookstore after work. Wasn’t quite ready to head home.”Bishop moved closer. “Look, Kenzi, I didn’t mean to be rude the other day. I just want to keep things professional. I don’t date employees and I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“No need to explain,” I said with a nervous smile. “But I would like us to be friends. There’s no rule against that, right?”
“Right, and I’d like that, too.” He held an opened cookbook in his hand, its pages adorned with images of appetizing meals.
“Fresh recipes for the bakery?”
“Um, no. Actually, I enjoy cooking at home.” He pointed at my book. “And you?”
“I’m on the hunt for a new read.”
“What did you pick out?” He squinted at the paperback in my hands.
Unashamed of my reading preferences, I held the book up. “A steamy romance...at least I hope so based on the cover.”
“A guilty pleasure?” A hint of amusement laced his voice.
I waved my hand dismissively. “I read my romances loud and proud. Life is stressful enough, so I see nothing wrong with getting lost in a fictional world of happily-ever-afters.” I flipped hair over my shoulder. “So what if I’ve read Pride and Prejudice like twenty times? There’s no reason women should feel embarrassed for enjoying some escapism and fantasy.”
A flicker of admiration shone in his eyes. “I meant no offense. Everyone deserves to embrace the stories that bring them pleasure without judgment.”
His open-minded response sent a rush of gratitude through me. How often had I felt the need to justify my love of romance novels to others? Yet here was someone who accepted me, literary tastes and all.
The bookshop was hushed and serene. The idea of spending a quiet afternoon reading in each other’s company seemed incredibly appealing. Unless…
“Do you like ferrets? Taxidermy?”
His forehead scrunched. “Huh?”
“Never mind.” I gestured toward the reading area. “If you’re not in a hurry, why don’t we take our books and hang out?”
Bishop shrugged. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
We settled into the plush sofas with our respective books in hand. Engrossed in our reading, I couldn’t resist peeking over at Bishop, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration. It appeared he was doing the same, our eyes occasionally meeting before returning to our pages. Bishop was like a chapter that I was curious to explore.
“You asked me during the, uh, interview where I saw myself in five years, so how would you answer that same question?”
He lowered his book, his gaze softening as his brown eyes met mine. “I’ve often thought about establishing a culinary school, one that emphasizes traditional techniques. It would be nice to pass on a genuine appreciation for the craft to the next generation.” Bishop’s voice held a warmth I hadn’t noticed before.
A smile tugged at my lips. “I’ve always dreamed of merging my love of graphic design with baking. Like starting my own brand of pet treats.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? I think you mentioned it during the interview, but I thought you were joking.”
“Nope,” I said with a tilt of my chin. “I was serious.”
“Sounds ambitious.” The corners of Bishop’s eyes crinkled. “You know, you’re always the one asking questions. How about you tell me something?”
I fidgeted with the edge of my book. “Well, I have this collection of vintage Jane Austen novels I found at a yard sale. They’re, like, my most cherished possessions. I’m a big fan of her novels and the movie adaptations. That’s my happy place. What about you?”
“For me, it’s my grandparents’ old wedding bands that I’ve held onto,” Bishop said, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. “More than anything, those rings represent their love and partnership while building the bakery together…” He paused, glancing down in thought before meeting my gaze again. “I suppose we all have those sentimental objects that remind us of what matters most.”
“That’s so sweet. I think you’re a romantic at heart.”
Bishop cleared his throat. “I also handcrafted my own wooden rolling pin.”
Apparently, his interests went beyond sourdough starters and pie crusts. Who knew?
Then a fleeting image of Bishop, shirtless and intently carving a piece of wood, flashed in my mind. I blinked, casting a sheepish glance at the steamy romance cover resting on my lap.
“That’s really impressive.”
Bishop nodded, seeming pleased I appreciated his craftsmanship. “It’s all about patience and practice, but the payoff is worth it.” He rubbed his thumb over the worn cover of the cookbook in his lap. “Much like perfecting a new recipe.”
Golden sunbeams streamed through the windows and highlighted the stubble on his face and the golden brown of his eyes. Crushing on my boss wasn’t a great idea. I knew that, but I couldn’t help it. He was just so darn tempting, like a freshly baked cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven.
He slowly turned a page in the cookbook resting on his lap, the soft sound filling the air. “During that interview, I left out a few questions. Like, any pet peeves?”
“I do have one…” I set my paperback down next to me. “Whenever someone borrows a book and returns it dogeared. I mean, seriously, ever heard of a bookmark? Makes me feel like planning an intervention.” I absently touched the chain around my neck.
His dark stare shifted from the book, lingering on me for a beat before moving to my necklace. “What’s that you’re wearing?”
With a gentle touch, I lifted the locket. “My mom gave it to me the last Christmas we spent together. Inside, there’s a photo of my parents on one side, and my sister, Bree, on the other.”
Surrounded by walls of books, it was as though the world had faded away, leaving only the two of us.
I debated asking him a personal question, but decided to ask anyway, for the sake of nosiness and all.
“So let me ask you something—and feel free not to answer—but do you date much?’” I held my breath, hoping the question wasn’t too presumptuous.
Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Getting personal, huh?”
I absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair. “I’m adorably curious by nature. Entertain me?”
Bishop hesitated for a moment, then tapped the spine of the romance novel by my side with his index finger. “I haven’t dated in a while, but I’d have to say, I’ve always been drawn to someone seriously dedicated to their calling, pouring themselves into what they love to do. That level of passion is very attractive.”
“Oh,” I managed to say, keeping my voice casual.
“So, Kenzi Middleton, what sparks your interest?”
A grin spread across my face. “Well, um, it’s the simplest things really. Like great conversations that make you lose track of time. You know, those moments when you’re so engrossed in talking to someone that the world just sort of falls away. It’s the best feeling.”
He nodded. “It really is. And it’s kind of sad that the art of conversation is dying. Nowadays, everyone just texts or DMs. It’s like we’ve forgotten how to actually talk to each other.”
“Right?” I said, latching onto his sentiment. “It’s so rare to find that kind of connection with someone.”
“It certainly is…”
Bishop’s gaze lingered on mine and made my stomach quiver.
We sat in comfortable silence, the bustle of the bookshop fading into white noise around us. The hushed whispers of patrons and occasional rustling of pages became distant, as if we were encased in our own bubble.
Despite having only known each other for a short time, I sensed the start of a long-lasting friendship with my boss. Like the tentative romance between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, this unexpected connection with Bishop left me both exhilarated and curious to see how this would unfold...as only friends, of course. He’d made it clear that dating was forbidden.
A sudden warmth bloomed in my cheeks. Why did that sound so sexy?
No, no. Not sexy. Dating coworkers was prohibited. Unless, I could change his mind.
“Kenzi.” He leaned forward slightly, the ambient light casting a soft halo around him. “I’m glad we did this…got to know each other a little better outside of work.”
My toes curled inside my shoes. “Making friends always scores high on my fun-o-meter.”
Gazing into Bishop’s eyes, as open and inviting as a favorite book, I wondered if it was time to confess that I wasn’t a professional baker. Then we could date, have great conversation, and I wouldn’t have to lie anymore.
I took a deep breath, blowing it out. “Bishop, I need to tell you something. I, um, well, I?—”
A thunderous crash exploded from behind me. Whipping around in my seat, I noticed a bookshelf had slipped out of the case, its volumes strewn across the floor. A young boy stood amidst the rubble, eyes bulging and mouth open. He looked like he’d just witnessed a hardback Armageddon.
I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my hammering heart to slow down. Next to me, Bishop exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Oh, my gosh!” I leapt off the sofa. “Are you okay?”
The boy nodded, his cheeks two bright red splotches.
After a pause, he faced the frozen child. “It’s all right, kid, accidents happen.”
The boy blinked, snapping out of his stupor. “S-sorry!” he squeaked before scurrying away.
I blew out a breath, believing the universe wanted my confession postponed a little longer. “We should probably help pick up those books.”
What was I thinking, anyway? I couldn’t risk telling him my secret and losing my job, not when I still needed to pay off my bills.
We both rose from our seats, making our way to the scattered books. Bishop handed me hardbacks while I stacked them neatly on the floor.
Two employees rushed over and righted the bookshelf. They finished re-stacking the toppled books, and we returned to the reading nook.
I grasped my novel. “I should get going. Bree’s expecting me soon.”
Bishop nodded. “Of course. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
Warmth rushed through me at the invitation. “Definitely.”
We gathered our belongings and made our way to the friendly lady behind the counter. I kept peeking at Bishop, feeling a bit sad that our day together was ending.
As we exited the bookshop, the wind decided to play hairdresser and sent a rogue curl pirouetting across my face. Bishop eased the strands away, his fingers grazing my forehead and making my skin tingle.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned and walked along the sidewalk.
I watched him retreat, my heart hammering against my ribs. There was no denying it now—I liked Bishop Caine. And soon I’d have to reveal my secret. One that could threaten everything between us.