“Okay, Charlie. What’s the big emergency? Why did I have to drag my ass down here on my night off and miss The Bachelor?”

I shut the door to Turn the Page, locking it behind me. It’s about five minutes before we’re technically closed, but if Charlie’s call was any indication, something urgent is up, and we can’t take any more customers tonight anyway.

I turn and look around the store, confused at what I find.

The lights are off, and tall white candles are placed around the room, their glow the only light in the otherwise dark space. A brief pang of apprehension floods through me as I think about fire being around all these books, but when Brandon steps out from the back room, all worry flees my mind.

He’s dressed in a dark suit, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. It gives his otherwise polished appearance a bit of a casual look, which is good because, when I look down at my own T-shirt and jeans, I feel severely underdressed.

Brandon strides across the room, a single white rose in his hand. He brushes the soft petals across my nose when he reaches me, causing heat to flood my cheeks. I smile as I drop my eyes to the floor.

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Jeffers?” I say playfully, bringing my gaze back up to his.

“If you think this is thick, you just wait until—”

I hold my hands up, a sputtering laugh escaping my lips. “Ah, there’s the Brandon I know.”

He gives me a wink, handing me the rose before taking my other hand and leading me into the other room. I didn’t notice it when I walked in, but there’s a small table set up in the corner, two candlesticks and an empty vase in the center. Brandon takes the rose from my fingers and drops it into the vase. The soft glow of the flames illuminates the petals, giving them an almost ethereal brilliance.

I’m still transfixed by their beauty as Brandon clears his throat, pulling out my chair and gesturing for me to sit. He slides my chair in for me before moving around the table and taking his own seat. I raise a brow at him.

He gives me an impish smile. “What?”

I look around the bookstore. “What is all this?”

He looks around with me, his eyes coming to rest on mine. “Dinner.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve gathered that. But why? Why all the fuss?”

He levels his gaze on me, all traces of his usual humor gone when he answers, “Because something tells me it’s been a while since a man made a fuss over you. And that’s a damn shame.”

Margie steps out from the back at that moment, saving me from having to come up with a response. She has two plates in her hands and a gigantic smile plastered on her face.

“Hey, you two,” she says, her voice drawn out and way too excited about a simple dinner. But then again, candles and a private dinner for two aren’t exactly simple.

What the hell is he up to?

Margie sets the food down, not even bothering to ask about Lexi and Ian, which is so not like her. After Lexi moved next door to Margie, the older woman sort of took Lexi under her wing. I don’t think a single time has gone by that I’ve seen her and she hasn’t brought Lexi up.

But this time, instead of the usual twenty questions, she just smiles and backs out of the room.

I shoot another questioning glance at Brandon.

“You need to stop looking at me like that. I’m starting to get a complex,” he jokes.

I smile. “Sorry, but…”

“But?”

“But who are you pod people, and what did you do with the real Brandon and Margie?”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his defined Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I notice there’s about a day’s worth of scruff covering his face and neck, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like against my skin.

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine all the places I’d like to feel that stubble.

No. Bad, Liv. Remember, sooner or later, he’s going to go back to where he came from. Don’t fall for his tricks.

I square my shoulders, attempting to take back control of the situation. I pick up my fork, eyeing the food before me. “Is this…”

“Margie’s chicken and dumplings. She said it was your favorite.”

“You had Margie make my favorite meal?”

I’m genuinely shocked at the gesture. I expected to look down and find takeout from the diner or maybe even from a restaurant in Grover. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to go to all this trouble.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I quickly blink them away.

Damn pregnancy hormones.

“When I called Charlie to arrange all this, he suggested I call Margie about the food. As soon as she heard what I was planning, she insisted. She even let me help.”

My brows shoot up. “You cooked?” I can’t help the shocked tone that comes out of my mouth.

“Well, supervised was more like it. But she did let me lick the spoon.”

I giggle as I spear a bite of chicken with my fork.

“So, tell me how it went with Charlie,” he says, tucking into his own food. “From how enthusiastic he was about helping me set everything up, I’d guess it went fairly well.”

Charlie has been nothing but supportive from the moment the words spilled from my lips. Instead of admonishing me for being careless, he pulled me into his arms. His eyes filled with tears when he finally pulled back and looked at me.

“You’re not mad?” I asked, each word laced with worry.

“Mad?” he questioned, seemingly stunned by my words. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

“But I’m not married. And I’m supposed to be taking over the store.”

Charlie took my face in his hands, his thumbs running across my cheeks to wipe away my tears. “And you still will. This doesn’t change anything, Livvy. The store is yours. You’re going to be an amazing owner after I hang up my hat. And you’re going to be an even more amazing mother.”

I leaned into his shoulder, letting my tears fall and soak the fabric of his shirt. “How can you be sure? You saw the example I had growing up. How can you be sure I won’t end up exactly like her?”

Charlie pulled away, his hand moving under my chin and lifting my eyes to his. “You listen to me, Livvy Girl. There are a lot of different types of people in this world. There are good people, and then there are those who have lost their way. Your mother happens to be one of the latter. But she did do one thing right. She gave birth to one hell of a daughter. And that girl is one of the strongest, most genuinely good people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Your mother might’ve made a lot of mistakes in her life, but you were not one of them.”

I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear his words until that very moment. Knowing Charlie was on my side and in my corner eased so much of the burden I’d been feeling. And I knew that, despite whatever mistakes I made, he’d always love me, and that made me feel like I could take on the world.

Now, with Brandon sitting before me and this gorgeous setting surrounding us, I can’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

Maybe Brandon was meant to come into my life and give me this beautiful gift. Maybe being a mother is what I was always meant to be.

I still don’t know what the future holds for the two of us, but I do know that I’ll never again resent the night we spent together.

I give Brandon a quick overview of my discussion with Charlie—leaving out the parts about my mother, of course. I’m still not ready to go there with him yet. He’s making one hell of an effort to show me he can change, that he’s willing to stick around, but I can’t bring myself to completely open myself to him. Not yet.

He chats about his road games as we eat, throwing in a question here and there about the store so as not to monopolize the conversation. I answer cheerily, genuinely enjoying his company and the conversation. In fact, I’m enjoying it so much, I’m a little sad when I realize we’re just about done, and it’ll soon be time to leave.

As if he can read the sorrow on my face, Brandon tosses his napkin on his plate and stands, extending his hand to me when he gets to his feet. I give him a quizzical look.

“How do you feel about dessert?”

Brandon wraps me in a blanket despite my protest that I’m not cold.

“Trust me,” he says with a wink, leading me through the store and to the back door.

My mouth drops open when he pushes it open. “You have got to be kidding me.”

An old-fashioned black carriage is sitting just beyond the door, a single white horse strapped to the front. Charlie is sitting in the driver’s seat, beaming down at me as he takes in my shocked expression.

“Too much?” Brandon asks timidly, his voice only inches from my ear.

I nod. “Way, way too much.”

He deflates. “I thought it might be. I just wanted it to be special. And, as cliché as it sounds, a horse-drawn carriage just seemed romantic. I can get rid of it though. Just give me a minute.”

I grab hold of his arm. “Are you crazy? It’s a freaking horse-drawn carriage. It’s too much, but you’re insane if you think I’m not going to climb up there and enjoy every second of it.”

Brandon grins widely before helping me inside. He settles himself next to me, his hands moving to the seat across from us to a tray. When he lifts the lid of a little metal pot, I realize what he meant about dessert.

Fondue.

We spend the first few minutes of the ride dipping various fruits, marshmallows, and cakes into the chocolate, laughing as it gets everywhere but in our mouths.

Brandon’s eyes narrow on my lips, his mouth parting slightly as they linger. “You’ve got something right about here,” he says, gesturing to his own lips.

My tongue darts out to clear the chocolate, and I can hear the low groan in his throat. Somehow, over the course of the ride, I’ve slid over onto his side, his hard body providing extra warmth from the cold evening air.

“Did I get it?” I ask, blinking up at him from under my lashes.

He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I need to drop my face, find a napkin, and put some distance between Brandon and myself. But, once again, I can’t seem to help myself around Brandon.

I lift my face to his, gently licking my lips as my eyes lock on his. “Well then, I guess I could use some help.”

My words don’t even have time to register on his face before I press my lips to his.