Twenty-Six

Dahlia

 

Any doubt I’d had just moments ago evaporated the moment I touched my lips to his. The kiss was light, tender but real, more genuine than any of the ones we’d shared up until right now.

It was almost the moment two equals met in the middle, differences stepping aside for the similarities to come together.

Tingles scattered through my body, but they all ended in one place.

My heart.

The fool in me fell a little harder.

“You really mean that?” I said quietly, pulling back and meeting his eyes.

His slight nod answered it. “I’ve seen men buckle where you held strong.” His fingers swept across the side of my face and he tucked some hair behind my ear. “And I finally worked out why you fascinate me so much.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re the most unpredictable little thing, and I can’t get enough of you.” He kissed me once more, slower and firmer than the one we’d just shared, but no less spine-tingling. “Now, can we please get this trip over and done with?”

And just like that, there was the Damien I’d come to feel so strongly for.

“You don’t get a bookstore trip over and done with. It gets done with you.” I grinned as I escaped his clutches and walked backward, almost into a person. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” I said to the lone, elderly gentleman.

He smiled, holding up his hands. “Don’t worry.” Then to Damien as he passed, he said, “She’s right, son. The bookstore tells you when your trip is over.” He held up his left hand and pointed to his ring finger. In the worst stage whisper I’d ever heard, he added, “I’ve been married forty years. Listen to her. She’s always right, even when she’s wrong.”

I cough-laughed into my hand, turning away, but not before I caught Damien’s half-stunned expression.

Ah, yes. The being wrong thing was a new experience for him.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll take that advice into account. Got any advice for when I mistakenly believe I’m right?”

Oh my God.

“You buy her a book, of course. Just avoid the ones with pirates. The role-play is questionable.”

I darted around the end of the aisle, gripped a shelf, and let the giggles burst free. The man was in his sixties, no doubt, and there he was. Talking to Damien Fox about pirate role-play.

I couldn’t control it anymore. When Damien joined me, a sore stomach, an almost-pee, and a few minutes later, he looked much less amused than I felt.

He swallowed hard. “I think this bookstore is done with me now.”

I laughed all over again, this time using the cart to steady me on my feet.

“I’m glad you found that so amusing,” he drawled, stepping up behind me. He gripped the sides of the cart handle and trapped me between him and it, pressing his body against mine. “I may be traumatized.”

“You’re the one who asked him for advice,” I sputtered out. “Oh, grab that Danielle Steele! And the ones on either side of it.”

He did as I said. “Any others?”

I pointed at book after book. He put each one in the cart, the only common thing was the fact he was always touching me. Whether he kept his hand on my back or pulled me with him, he never released me fully. That had to keep up for a good hour before we finally reached the final section with only a few shelves left to go.

“What kinds of books do your sisters read?” I asked, looking up from the back cover of a book by someone I’d never heard of.

The question was a risk. I knew that. But I felt like maybe this time, I’d get an answer.

“Did.” He pulled one off the shelf—a James Patterson.

I paused. “Did?”

“Did read, is the correct question,” he said, flipping the book over.

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

A chill ran through me. “Did read,” I repeated softly, the implications of that correction aching through my heart. “Both of them?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “One. Penelope. The youngest.”

“What about your other sister? Perrie?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “As far as I know, she’s still alive.”

Wow.

Ouch.

“I get the feeling this isn’t exactly bookstore conversation,” I murmured, putting a few first-in-series books into the cart.

“Not exactly. Then again, I’m not sure it’s conversation for anywhere.” He handed me two books. “If these were movies, they’d be great.”

My lips twitched up, and we both held onto them for a moment. “Noted. But the books are always better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gripped the cart and steered it around. “You achieved the impossible. You filled the cart.”

I linked my hand around his arm. “It was only impossible in your mind. It was totally realistic in my world, thank you very much.”

“I underestimated you once again.”

“You’d think you’d have learned by now.”

“I agree.” He laughed lowly. We stopped a few feet from the cashier, and he looked down at me. “Pick a book. Any one. I’ll buy it for you.”

My eyebrows raised. “Is this in case you tell me I’m wrong later on?”

More laughter. “No. It’s a…just because.”

“Have you ever bought a book before?”

“Don’t make me take it back, Dahlia.”

I leaned into him as I laughed quietly. “Anything?”

“Any book. Any story. In this store right now,” he confirmed.

Honestly, anything that had interested me in the store was already in the cart. There was nothing I could think of that I wanted, except…

“There is one I’m desperate to explore, actually,” I said slowly, meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He quirked a brow. “What’s that?”

With hesitance trembling my fingers, I reached up to the side of his eye and brushed the tip of my forefinger down alongside the scar there. “Yours.”

He stared at me for a long moment. The longest one, actually. It was unnerving and discomforting. The moment I was about to open my mouth and take it back was the moment he dipped his chin.

With the barest nod of his head, he opened the door for the one thing I wanted to know more than anything.

“All right.” He took my hand in his, kissed my palm, and released me. “I’ll tell you. Tonight.”

Dammit.

“I have to work until close,” I said softly.

He crooked a finger beneath my chin and tilted my face up to his. “Doesn’t matter. Midnight or three in the morning. I’ll tell you. You’ll come to my house after?”

He was so tentative, his gaze so soft and almost…scared.

There was no way I could say no.

“Deal. I’ll even bring pizza when I’m done.”

The smile that crept across his full lips was so tempting to kiss. “Deal. Leave the pants at home, though.”

“I can work with that.” I kissed his cheek, his stubble scratching against my chin. “Now, I have to buy my books.”

 

***

 

“I still can’t believe you spent almost two thousand dollars on books!” Abby said across the bar, stacking glasses as she went.

“I can’t believe I sell drinks cheaper than books,” I replied, taking two stacks over to the glass washer beneath the bar. I had to stifle a yawn as I opened it. “It was straight-up heaven, Abs. There are so many books in my front room waiting to be ordered and organized to come here.”

“Did you…Did you get any historicals?” she asked, sidling up to the bar with more glasses.

My wry smile was unmissable. “Yes, I got a few. I need you to take the card and go and buy some, though. They’re not my thing.”

She gasped, dramatically slapping her hand against her chest. “I can buy books for work? This is the best job ever!”

I laughed. “Yes, you can. But only historical romance.”

“Can I buy the ones with the Scottish Highlanders with their thick, sexy brogue and all plaid everything?”

My side-eye was dubious. “Er, sure?”

“Yes!” She punched the air with her excitement.

I side-eyed her once more and set the glass washer going. “If you want to go home and bring up Amazon, you’re welcome to.”

“Nah, I’ll help you finish up here,” she said. Extra sad. Extra pathetically.

“Go,” I sighed. “I can see you’re dying to. I’ll finish up here.”

“No, I know you’re going to see Damien after this. It’ll take you twice as long without me.” She reached over the bar for a cloth to wipe the top down with. “I’ll help you.”

I smiled gratefully.

“He’s really called off buying the bar?”

I hadn’t told her everything we’d discussed, for obvious reasons, but that was important she knew, so I nodded. “Just as I said earlier.”

“Do you think he’s spinning you a line?”

“No,” I said slowly. “I think he means it. He doesn’t gain anything from lying to me, Abs. I’m not going to sell, so that’s the end of it.”

“Hmm. I’ll remain skeptical until you’re married to him.”

“Well, this escalated really quickly, didn’t it?” I said it more to myself than anything.

“Do you really know what you’re doing with him?”

“Yes. No. Possibly. It varies.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to break your heart?”

I took the cloth from her and wiped down the handle of one of the draft beer pumps, saying nothing.

“Dahlia.”

I moved to the next.

And the next.

“Oh God.”

“Oh God, what?” I gripped two handles and leaned forward. “How do you expect me to answer that, Abs? He’s nothing like what you think he is. If you attempted a conversation with him, you’d see that.”

She softened, sighing as she leaned on the bar. “I know. Fergus already told me all he knows about him. I’m just worried about you. After your dad, you’re…vulnerable, I guess. I don’t want you getting hurt because he’s waltzed in here and swept you off your feet.”

I smiled. “I know what I’m doing, okay?”

“You just said you didn’t.”

“I don’t, not really, but pretending is fine.” I cleaned the last handle. “I do know that he’s not a bad person. He’s fun to be around, and he’s sweet, and he’s sensitive, and he’s just so…different,” I finished lamely.

Dear God. I could hear myself and I sounded damn stupid.

“All right,” was all Abby said. “I guess we should get done here then, right?”

I blinked at her. “That’s it? You’re dropping it?”

“Am I not supposed to?” She stared at me for a moment. “I mean…You seem happy. He’s dropped his attempt to buy the bar, and you’re still spending time together. I’m good to play the evil best friend if you want, but I feel like it’s a further waste of my time.”

“A further waste of…Never mind.” Shaking my head, I dropped it. Abby had her reasons for just about everything and I wasn’t going to argue it further.

If she was deciding to do a one-eighty on her feelings regarding him, I was going to run with it.

Abby laughed and smacked the bar. “Come on. Lover boy is waiting.” She made smooching noises as she continued on her glass-collecting mission.

“I’m in charge here,” I murmured, turning away from her. “I shouldn’t have to take this crap.”

“I love you!” she shouted, clinking glasses together.

Ugh…