Page 40 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

AUTUMN

“ W as the blindfold really necessary?” I asked as I adjusted the necktie that had been secured around my eyes as Ryan navigated the streets of Manhattan.

He told me we were going into town, but that was the extent of what I knew about what we were doing today. Apparently, I had to be blindfolded so I couldn’t see what he had plugged into the GPS.

“It was that or the kidnapper hood that Miles offered to ship,” Ryan said from the driver’s seat.

“But he said it would be a few days since he was having them dry-cleaned. Apparently, a while ago, Wander complained when Jack used one to surprise her with their honeymoon destination, and it smelled bad. Now he dry cleans them regularly for—quote— more considerate kidnappings .”

“Of course he does,” I said with a laugh.

“I would like to know why I didn’t receive a dry-cleaned kidnapper’s hood when they tied me to a chair in an abandoned Burger Palace. That thing smelled like death.”

I felt Ryan’s hand slide over mine as he laced our fingers together.

“Please just tell me what we’re doing,” I whined. “I promise I’ll enjoy it even more if I know where we’re going.”

“Nope.”

“What if I have to pee?”

“Do you have to pee?” he countered.

I huffed. “No.”

Ryan’s laugh was infuriating. “Simmer down, cupcake. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“And then you’ll put me out of my misery?”

“I’m not going to kill you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Dammit,” I muttered.

“Still miserable with me, huh?” Ryan said as he took a sharp left turn. “And here I thought we were making progress.”

“Is that what you thought?” I teased.

“I mean, from that sound you made when I kissed you this morning, I thought you wanted me to?—”

I whipped my hand out and smacked my palm over his mouth as my cheeks blazed like an inferno. Luckily, I blindly found my mark and didn’t hit him in the eyes. “That’s quite enough from you.”

“I’m just saying,” Ryan mumbled from beneath my hand. “Those are some mixed signals, cupcake.” And then he puckered up and kissed my palm.

“That’s it,” I said as I reached behind my head to loosen the knot. “I’m taking this off.”

“Fine by me. We’re here,” he said as the car came to a stop.

I pulled off the blindfold as he put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt.

I blinked and looked around. “We’re at . . . a used bookstore?”

Giddy bubbles of delight danced inside of me.

I loved used bookstores. There was something about the smell of them that was like home no matter where you went.

It was the best kind of treasure hunt. I could spend hours in the smallest of shops, perusing each title, flipping them open to see if there were annotations or notes from the previous owner, and gushing over covers I had never seen before.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for, Ford,” I said as I hopped out. “I may not own a lot of books, since it doesn’t really work with the nomadic minimalist lifestyle, but I can spend hours window shopping in there. Are you really ready for that?”

He rested his hand just above my ass and led me to the door. “I’m prepared. But we’re not just window shopping.”

I paused.

“When we were on our cookie crawl, I noticed that the Little Free Libraries around the city were pretty empty. I figured we could get a haul and go restock them.”

My eyes widened, and I bounced with excitement. “Really?”

“I mean, what better person to shop for books with than an author?”

I darted through the door as bells jingled overhead.

“Good morning, darlin’,” the gray-haired man behind the counter said as he put down the book he was engrossed with. “Anything I can help you with, or are you ready to browse?”

I glanced around the tight entrance that led to two floors of literary goodness. “Any chance you have shopping carts? I plan to do some serious damage today.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “My kinda woman.” He looked at Ryan as he joined us, and pointed to me. “Don’t let this one get away from you.”

Ryan slipped his arm around my waist. “I don’t plan on it.”

“Hate to break it to you, but we don’t have shopping carts or baskets.

Most people just come in for one or two titles.

But I’ll tell you what—just bring whatever you want to get down to the counter and I’ll keep ‘em here until you’re ready to check out.

We’ve got some cardboard boxes around here that I can stack ‘em in for ya.”

I left Ryan in the dust and immediately bolted for the children’s section.

Before he was able to find me in the maze of shelves, I had loaded my arms full of my childhood favorites.

I grabbed board books for babies, early readers, and beginner chapter books.

The picture book stack I had started on an empty shelf had some real gems.

“I’ll take those up front,” Ryan said as he took the teetering stack I had tucked in the crook of my elbow.

“And these?” I said, grabbing the picture books and adding them to his pile.

Ryan buckled under the tower. “I underestimated bringing you here.”

I patted him on the arm. “You’ve got all those nice gym muscles. Put them to good use.”

A grin split across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

The next time Ryan found me, I had made my way to the middle grade shelves.

I had a curated collection of graphic novels, fantasy, and mysteries.

He waited to take another haul up to the counter until I had gone through the YA shelves, adding on romances, some sci-fi titles, and more dragon books.

Teenagers love dragons. I’d have to get some fantasies from the romance and fantasy section so there were dragons for the whole family.

“I’m warning you,” I said as he escorted me up the stairs to the romance section. “I’m going to be here for a while, and your thighs are going to burn from going up and down the stairs.”

Ryan chuckled. “Why don’t you stack them up outside the door? I’ll check out the mystery section while you clear the shelves, and then I’ll take them down.” He paused and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of books.”

I beamed. “Me too.”

We divided and conquered. I dove into the W section of the romance shelves, and immediately snagged all of Whitney and Wander’s titles.

When I rounded the end cap, I caught sight of Ryan hunched over in the mystery section. The jeans he wore today were pale with age and stretched tight across his ass. He grabbed a title and straightened, thumbing through it before tucking it under his arm. It must have been a good one.

Something bubbled inside of me, warm and effervescent. I dipped behind a shelf and watched him as he shuffled down the row of books.

Today was a good day. I wasn’t entirely sure if today was supposed to be a date, but the semantics of it didn’t really matter. It felt good to get out of the house and work on something together. I liked the feeling of being a team. Having someone on my side.

It felt like having a partner.

Before I could think better of it, I darted around the shelves. Ryan spun around just as I popped up onto my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

His smile flashed bright and brilliant as he caught me around the waist with his free arm. “What was that for?”

I chewed on my lip and shrugged.

Ryan cocked his head as he turned and pinned me against the bookshelf. “You don’t know?”

“I just wanted to,” I admitted as I studied his lips.

The corner ticked up. “Really,” he said in a flat, but teasing tone as he pretended not to believe me.

I nodded.

Ryan fought his smile. “I don’t think I got the message. Maybe you should try again.” He tapped his cheek.

Without a moment of thought,” I leaned in to kiss his cheek again. As soon as my lips pressed just above his jaw, Ryan turned his head and kissed me square on the mouth.

I laughed as I tipped backward against the shelf, but the books were there to catch me. Ryan kissed me again—softer, slower, and deeper this time. Each stroke of his tongue against mine was languid and lazy.

Paper tumbled to the ground as Ryan dropped the books in his arm and grabbed my hands, pinning them to the shelves.

“The books!” I gasped.

“I’ll buy them,” he growled as he laced our hands together and kissed me again and again.

When we finally broke for air, I was dazed. Ryan Ford was the most potent, addictive drug.

And I wanted more.

Ryan traced the tip of his nose up the bridge of mine. “I already kissed you this morning. And you just gave me more.”

“Yeah. Well, I wanted more.”

My hands fell as he let them go and cupped my cheeks. “How much more do you want?”

I opened my mouth to ask for it, because I believed, in the deepest part of my soul, that he would give it to me.

But I didn’t.

Fear is a mythical beast. It’s a tale. A legend. A fable. It’s the wind rustling through the trees that makes you believe a cryptid is hunting you. It’s the shadow stalking you that keeps you frozen in the corner, without realizing that the shadow is you.

People underestimate the power of stories, just like they underestimate the power of fear.

And what people often fear most, is being unlovable. It’s the tallest tale, but it’s the one that makes you afraid of the dark.

Instead of answering Ryan’s question, I eased onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek one more time. “Thank you for planning this.”

I dipped back into the romance section and focused on picking the best stories until the shelves no longer buckled under the weight of the books.

I could barely see the checkout counter when Ryan and I headed back to the front of the bookshop.

Thankfully, the owner had been keeping tabs as Ryan brought down each stack, and had the total waiting for us.

He had even sorted the books by genre and packed them neatly in spare boxes.

My eyes bugged out at the triple digit total.

Most of the books were just a dollar or two.

But Ryan just handed his card over without a moment of hesitation.

We loaded up the trunk and backseat of my car, and headed for the first Little Free Library.

Homes littered with bikes, balls, and chalk-scribbled driveways surrounded the little nook. We stuffed it full with children’s and middle grade books, and a few adult titles, then headed for the next one.

I slid my hand into Ryan’s as he navigated suburban streets to the next stop. I had already loaded up my arms with romances and thrillers for this one, and was back in the car in a flash.

“We may have gone a little overboard at the bookstore,” I said as I craned around the seat and looked at the mountain of books we still had to distribute.

Ryan found my hand and held it, stroking his thumb across the top in a gentle rhythm. “That’s all right. We’ll have to replenish all of the libraries eventually. We can come back in a few days and see which boxes need to be topped off.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “This was a really good idea.”

We made the next few stops in companionable silence, simply enjoying a windows-down drive with good music on the radio.

The last three little libraries put a big dent in the book haul. They were large and were completely empty, so we put a little bit of everything in them.

“You know, we’re not too far from Penelope’s Bakehouse,” I said.

Ryan chuckled. “Still got cookies on the brain?”

“They were so good. And ours didn’t turn out that great.”

He smirked. “That’s because half of the flour ended up on the counter and floor.”

“And why did that happen?” I teased.

Ryan just grinned like a cat who got the cream.

“We could take some cookies to Lisa and hit all the little libraries along the way out to her place.”

“Honestly, you had me at cookies,” he said as he took the turn that led him back toward the bakery.

Ten minutes later, there was a box of cookies for Lisa stashed safely on top of the books in the backseat, and a box of cookies for Ryan and me in my lap. Manhattan was in the rearview mirror, Ryan’s hand was on my thigh, and my arm was draped in the open window, fingers surfing the wind.

Today wasn’t just good.

Life was good.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Lisa

Not home. I’m covering a friend’s shift at work. But the spare key is where it always is if you’re already there. Help yourself to the fridge if you’re hungry.

“Lisa’s at work,” I said as I glanced out the window and saw the road sign for her street. “But I know where the spare is. We can leave the cookies inside.”

Ryan pulled into Lisa’s driveway without even checking the GPS. Though she often dropped by the rental house, we had been over to her place a few times since the funeral.

The way Ryan and I had settled into life here wasn’t lost on me.

Coming home felt like putting on an old pair of jeans. I loved them, but they didn’t fit the way they used to. They were too tight in places. Too worn around the knees and thighs. Something that had once been a comfort now made me feel like a stranger in my own skin.

But not with him.

Ryan smoothed all those rough patches. He stitched up the holes and mended the tears.

While I pawed around the planter where Lisa kept the spare key hidden under a light layer of dirt, Ryan kept the cookies safe.

“Aha!” I said as I found the key and brushed the dirt off. I unlocked the door and slipped inside.

It was always strange walking into someone’s house when they weren’t there, but Lisa and Shep’s house had always felt like home. I headed to the bathroom while Ryan put the cookies in the kitchen.

When I came out, he was standing in front of the bookshelf, staring at their collection of my titles.

Ryan picked up a framed picture of a book signing where Shep and Lisa had surprised me. The three of us posed together, each holding a book. “Do they always go to your events?”

I shook my head. “No. Just when they could.” I trailed my fingers across the wood frame. “They always made it a surprise, though.”

I watched as he skimmed the spines of the books. “Do they have them all?”

“Yeah,” I said as I trailed my fingers along the neatly lined up spines.

“Shep always asked for the very first copy. It was the one selfish thing he did. He wanted all the first editions.” My gaze went glassy.

“I gave him every first edition. But the next one . . .” I swallowed the tumbling meteor in my throat. “I have to keep that one.”

Ryan wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side. “I don’t think Shep cared about which copy he got.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “He could have had a collection of five hundred first editions, but you’re the one he really treasured. The most rare and sought after.”

I curled into his side, not because I was ashamed to cry in front of Ryan Ford. But because I wanted him to hold me.