Chapter 6 #2
By the time I pulled up in front of Calloway’s Books, the tension in my chest hadn’t eased. The truck settled with a groan as I cut the engine. I sat there for a second, staring at the faded sign above the door—Dad’s hand-painted letters, chipped now, but still standing.
“Don’t worry,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll keep it yours.”
I unlocked the door, flipped the sign to OPEN, and stepped inside.
I went straight to the stack of boxes by the door, the new shipment that had come in two days ago.
Better to keep my hands busy. I slit the tape, pulled out hardcovers one by one, and started shelving them.
Mystery paperbacks on the carousel. A few new cookbooks for the front display.
I shifted a stack of Stephen King novels to make room for them, then paused to straighten the framed photo on the back wall.
Dad, younger than I ever remembered him, stood outside this very store in the picture—broad smile, ribbon-cutting scissors in hand, a crowd of neighbors behind him.
The frame was old, the glass a little smudged, but I kept it there anyway.
Every glance at this photo reminded me of the dreams he had for this place, and the crushing fear that I might fail to honor them weighed heavily on my shoulders.
When the boxes were empty, I hauled them to the back, came out with a hammer, and fixed the wobble on one of the front shelves. The rhythm helped.
The truth was, I needed the motion. If I stopped too long, I’d start thinking about the vote from this morning, about how much I missed Dad, about the store’s numbers that didn’t add up no matter how many times I checked them.
I’d think about Mom eating alone in that brick ranch, about what my future looked like if this was all there ever was.
And then there was Lily Harper—confident little smirk like she owned the room, and now, apparently, my store.
The bell over the door jingled, and in sauntered Nate, ball cap backwards on his head, carrying a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee from the bakery next door.
“Hey, man. Crazy meeting this morning,” he said, leaning on the counter.
“Don’t get me started.”
He gave me a look. “I saw you bolt out after. Thought maybe you were gonna put your fist through something.”
“Just needed to get out of there,” I said, sliding the last of the cookbooks into place.
Nate leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on a secret. “Dude. That girl is hot. Tell me you noticed the way her pants fit when she strutted up to that podium. I couldn’t take my eyes off her ass, man.”
I shot him a look, irritation bubbling up inside me.
My jaw tightened and I felt a heat rise in my chest, a primal urge to defend her against his crude comments.
“Glad you were keeping track,” I replied, but the possessive instinct surprised me.
The idea of anyone else noticing her like that sent an unexpected knot of jealousy twisting in my stomach.
He just grinned, unbothered. “What can I say? Woman’s got presence. And now she’s setting up shop right across from me. If Lynn had dropped her in my hardware store, we’d already be in trouble.”
“You’re the worst,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, but a part of me couldn’t deny it—she was impossible to ignore.
Just the thought of her confident stride and that playful smile sent a rush of heat through me.
I quickly pushed it down, reminding myself that she’d be gone in three months.
“She can do her thing over there, and I’ll keep to mine over here.
Three months of this, Nate. That’s all. Then she packs up, rolls out, and I can get back to normal. ”
I grabbed another stack of hardcovers, the thud of them hitting the counter sharper than I meant it to be. But what if I didn’t want to go back to normal? What if I wanted to feel that spark again? “If I play it right, I won’t even have to talk to her.”
Nate chuckled, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, good luck with that. And don’t worry, I’ll be back around once she’s set up. Somebody’s gotta give her a proper Willowbrook welcome.”
“Of course you will,” I muttered.
He just grinned, tipped his coffee cup in a mock salute, and headed for the door.
Nate’s coffee hadn’t even cooled before the bell over the door went again. Barely fifteen minutes, and in she came—like a storm I hadn’t had time to board up for.
Lily Harper.
She wasn’t in the sleek black suit from the board meeting anymore.
Now it was fitted dark jeans, a cherry-red blazer over a tank, and heels that clicked against the old floorboards like they belonged in some Manhattan lobby, not Calloway’s Books.
Her blonde hair was loose now, brushed into smooth waves that framed her face, a glossy shine that screamed department store ad.
Just like that, my heart skipped, caught off guard by how effortlessly stunning she looked.
The way she carried herself exuded confidence, and I felt a heat rise in my chest as I wondered how someone could draw me in so completely.
She hadn’t come alone. Kayla trailed in behind her, struggling with a box almost bigger than she was, while Jason carried two rolled-up posters under one arm and foam boards in the other. Both of them were grinning, buzzing like they’d just been let backstage at a concert.
“Careful with that, Kayla,” Lily said, sweeping into the middle of the store. “Jason, set those by the window—we’ll line the easels up there once they’re in.”
I just stood there behind the counter, jaw tight, watching my bookstore turn into her stage.
Lily marched straight up to the counter, all red blazer and confidence, and set her briefcase on top like it was a negotiation table. Her smile was bright, polished, the kind that probably scored a dozen sponsorships before breakfast.
“Lily Harper, event planning extraordinaire,” she said, extending a hand like we hadn’t already seen each other this morning. “Officially introducing myself, since this is going to be our shared workspace.”
I looked at her hand, then back at her, a tightness forming in my chest. I didn’t take her hand—couldn’t take that step.
The last thing I needed was to feel the heat of her touch.
I clenched my jaw, caught between wanting to reach for her hand and wanting to push her away.
Her confidence was magnetic, infuriating.
My truck's scrape was the perfect excuse to keep my distance. “Ethan Calloway. Yeah. We’ve met. Your bumper introduced itself to my truck.”
Her smile didn’t falter—if anything, it sharpened, drawing my attention to the perfect curve of her lips. “Right, the sacred truck. I should’ve known you’d still be holding a grudge.”
I leaned on the counter, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume, my voice dropping lower than I intended. “Look. I’m gonna let you in on a secret.”
Our eyes locked, and for a split second, I forgot what I was saying.
She was everything I wasn’t ready for—bold, ambitious, and unafraid to shake things up.
Letting her in felt like inviting chaos into my carefully controlled life.
I couldn’t risk losing what little stability I had left, especially with my father’s legacy at stake.
I had to put up walls, even if it made me sound like a jerk.
I had to protect what mattered most. I swallowed hard.
“I don’t like you. I don’t like your ideas. And I sure as hell don’t like that you’re in my bookstore.”
She tilted her head, lips curving like I’d just complimented her shoes. “As if I came here for your approval.”
“But I do love this town,” I shot back, straightening my posture in an attempt to assert control. “So here’s the deal—you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, and maybe we both survive the summer without killing each other.”
Her eyes glittered like she’d just been handed a dare, and for a moment, I was caught off guard by how captivating she was.
There was a spark in her gaze that made my heart race, igniting an unexpected urge to lean closer, to engage rather than retreat.
I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be annoyed, not intrigued.
“Relax, Mr. Calloway.” She tapped her nails against the counter once, sharp little clicks. “And trust me—you’ll thank me when people are lined up outside to see what’s going on in here.”
Her words hung between us, thick with unspoken possibilities, and I could feel the pull—something electric that I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
She turned on her heel, blonde hair catching the light as she crossed to the side of the store and started directing Kayla and Jason like they were her stage crew. I told myself to look away, to focus on the register, the books, anything else.
But damn if my eyes didn’t flick down for half a second. The woman knew how to strut.
I shook my head hard, trying to push her from my mind. I’ve got enough on my plate—keeping the store open and my father’s legacy intact. The last thing I needed was a distraction. I busied myself with the stack of invoices, pretending the heat crawling up my neck was just from the May sun.
This was a battle to prove to myself—and to her—that I could still protect what mattered most. Yet as I turned to face Lily, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to change everything.