Page 36

I hit the coffee shop around the corner first. Like most spots downtown, it’s dog friendly, so Lucy waits patiently by my feet while I order a cup of dark roast so big it’s practically a bucket. Because it’s the weekend, I stir in half and half and enough sugar to make Buddy the Elf bounce off the walls, and then I make my way toward the bookstore, the velvety smell of the coffee wafting upward as I walk.

“Nate!” Elton, the owner, smiles at me from behind the register as I enter. His smile grows when he sees my dog. “And Lucy!” Grabbing a treat from the plastic bin on the counter, he rounds the register and holds out the dog biscuit. “How’re y’all doin’ this fine morning?”

“Sit, Lucy,” I say. But she’s so excited she’s beyond taking commands. She frantically wags her tail, making a beeline for Elton. God, she’s naughty. She’s also cute as hell. When he glances up at me for permission to give her the treat even though she didn’t sit, I nod. “Sorry, Elton. She’s hopeless. If I didn’t have her on a leash, she’d take off. We’re doing all right. How about yourself?”

“Just grand.” He pets Lucy’s head as she chows down on the treat. “She’s always welcome here. What brings you in today?”

I go through a couple books a week, so I come to Malaprop’s every month or so to buy whatever Elton recommends. I did my run for October last week.

“I burned through that Rothfuss trilogy you suggested. So damn good. I also had to get out of the house,” I say, looking down at Lucy before glancing out the windows that line one side of the store. “It’s such a pretty day.”

“Best time of year up here for sure. If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.”

“Thanks. Think I’m just gonna hang around for a bit while I drink my coffee.” I hold up my cup.

Elton’s eyebrows go up. “You’ll be here for a good long while then. You’re in luck—your favorite spot out back is open. I’ll make sure no one takes it while you browse.”

“You’re the best.”

“You bet your cute ass I am.”

I grin. “It’s a good ass, right?”

“Honey”—his eyes flick down my body—“it’s a great ass. Now get browsing before I confess I’ve had a crush on you for almost a decade.”

“What would Philip have to say about that?” I ask, talking about Elton’s husband of thirty years.

Elton waves his hand. “Philip would understand. He has a crush on you too.”

Wrapping Lucy’s leash around my knuckles, I head for the historical fiction section, which just so happens to be closest to the front door. I’ve been reading lots of fantasy and thrillers lately, so something along the lines of Hilary Mantel would be a nice palate refresher. A matte black spine catches my eye—Sarah Dunant, Blood and Beauty: A Novel of the Borgias—so I use my forefinger to pull it off the shelf. I’m reading the back cover copy, taking a sip of coffee, when I’m hit by a gust of cold air.

I look up. My heart stops.

Milly is standing on the threshold in a long coat and leggings. Sunshine limns her hair and shoulders. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her eyes are a bright shade of cerulean blue.

She looks so beautiful it hurts. Or maybe it’s the guilt that hits me like a Mack truck that has me gasping for air.

Our eyes meet, and something inside me drops. So does my coffee. My bucket of coffee literally slides out of my hand, and I just stand there like a dumbstruck idiot, frozen to the spot.

What the fuck are the chances?

“Nate!” Milly cries, eyes going wide as she lunges for the cup with arms outstretched. Lucy yelps and I blink, still frozen.

By some miracle, Milly catches my coffee in both her hands.

“Whoa,” she says.

“Holy shit,” I say.

She looks up at me, shaking her hair out of her face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You.” I take the coffee. “I saw you.”

“Funny, but Rhett and I were just talking about ghosts. How he thought I was haunted by Meghan Thee Stallion.”

My lips twitch despite the riot happening inside my chest. “Isn’t she still alive?”

“That’s what I said!” She looks at me.

I look back. “You have to stop doing this.”

Milly furrows her brow. “Buying books?”

“Walking through the same door I just did.”

“Oh.” Her expression smoothes. “Ha. Right.” She throws her thumb over her shoulder and dips her knees, adorably awkward. “On that note, I’ll, um, go—”

“Don’t,” I blurt. Like she knows I need backup, Lucy jumps onto Milly’s legs. Milly’s grin deepens into a smile, teeth and all, and she bends down to pet my dog.

“Lucy! Hey, honey. Hey. Yes, yes, I love you too. Oh, thank you for the kisses! You’re too sweet.” Milly doesn’t use one of those baby voices to talk to my dog. There’s nothing wrong with those voices, but I like how Milly keeps it real while still being kind.