Page 30 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

I’m making her nervous in the best possible way, and there isn’t a single thing I can do to stop it. It’s this impulse inside me to see how far I can push her to jump out of this box she’s put herself in. Lila is this grand puzzle I’m dying to piece together.

The desire to reach out and grab her hand as we strolled down the main street was overwhelming.

It felt like we were a couple as she waved at people we passed.

Listening to her describe the stores still open and those that she remembered from her childhood leaves an ever-expanding hole in my gut.

Even her wistful memories left me…wanting.

And jealous.

I expect us to continue walking down the street, so I’m shocked when Lila turns and crosses the street in the direction of a lighthouse.

The old hinges of a gate squeak when we pass through and head to the entrance.

A chalkboard sign indicates that A Page in Time is open in swirling cursive letters.

“I love this place,” Lila gushes as a bell chimes when she pulls the door open.

When we step inside, it’s easy to see why Lila mentioned the bookshop when we parked. There isn’t a bare space not covered in books. Even the spiraling staircase off to the left, which I assume climbs to the top of the lighthouse, is stacked with books—old editions, if I’m not mistaken.

“Hi! Welcome to A Page in Time. Can I help you find anything?” a young woman asks from behind an antique desk with an equally as old typewriter set in the corner.

“Actually, I was hoping Bailey was in. Do you know when she’ll be back?” Lila asks as I sidle up next to her, admiring the view out the window toward the bay.

“She just stepped out. Our dehumidifier is on the fritz so she ran to the hardware store to grab a mobile unit until the repairman can get out here. I suspect she’ll be back shortly.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Isn’t something like that expensive?” I ask, tugging my phone from my pocket, prepared to do some research. If this is a place Lila loves, I want to make sure it’s taken care of.

Immediately, my search for dehumidifier repair or replacement comes up, and I know this could get costly real quick.

“Crew is home for the summer. Maybe I could have him take a look?”

The bell dings above the door as a soft voice says, “No luck with the repair guy. But I got…oh my gosh, Lila! You’re home.

” She rushes toward Lila and envelops her in a hug to rival that of a long-lost sister.

“I heard Ashvi say you were back, but I didn’t believe it.

But, oh my gosh, you’re here.” She hugs Lila again as the pretty blonde giggles.

“Sorry, this guy here has kept me busy,” Lila points out with a tilt of her head in my direction.

“Oh, is this the fiancé I’ve heard so much about?” the elfish woman asks.

“God, no. This is Dean. I’m watching his kids. Dean, this is Bailey, and she owns this amazing bookstore.”

We shake hands, and I don’t miss the shimmer of curiosity in her eyes as she holds eye contact.

“I was telling Judy that Crew is home for the summer. Maybe he could look at the dehumidifier? He’s always been good with that sort of stuff.”

“No,” Bailey says, her hair ballooning around her body as her head jerks toward Lila.

Lila’s shoulders move toward her ears casually as she smiles. Clearly, there is a story between Bailey and Crew.

“If you’d like, I could make a few calls. It’s sort of what I do.”

“Repair things?” Bailey asks as I watch Lila out of the corner of my eye.

“No,” I reply with a soft chuckle. “Put my money to good use.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Lila chimes in, “He’s a billionaire and owns like a ton of businesses. He probably has a handyman in his back pocket.”

“Really?”

“Sort of,” I say as I scroll through my contacts, but my eyes hang on my father’s number. I may not have a handyman on retainer, but he sure does.

I step out of the main area, leaving the two women to catch up as I explore a back room with a bay window overlooking a garden.

I think about Evelyn and how much she would love to play in the dirt and grow vegetables.

That certainly wasn’t something my parents allowed when I was young, and I assume my sister was the same way.

Oliver always looks fearful when he comes inside after getting dirty in the backyard.

Taking a deep breath, I settle into one of the mid-century modern leather chairs that edge against the paned window and press the call button on my phone. Inside, I send a silent prayer that my father doesn’t pick up despite my desire to help Lila’s friend.

“Harrington,” my father says abruptly as if I’ve inconvenienced him by calling. Of course, to him, I most likely have.

“It’s Dean.”

“Yes, I do have caller ID. What do you want? Money, a new yacht, an escort for an event?”

“No, Dad.”

I wince immediately after I let the name slip.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Yes, I recall. It just slipped. Habit.”

“Sounds like the same excuse your mother gives. Now, what do you want this time besides keeping our grandkids from us?”

Seems my parents are still upset I maintain guardianship over Oliver and Evelyn.

Not sure why it matters all of a sudden when they could barely spare a minute with their own kids.

My guess is they’re desperate to maintain a familial heir for the company and I’m not on that ticket, nor do I want it.

They want to mold and shape an innocent five-year-old instead.

“Look, I was just calling to see if you could spare the phone number for the company that installed the dehumidifiers in the Miami shop.”

“Why? Planning a coup to take over the family business?”

“It’s not my business as you’ve made sure I was aware many times, nor do I want it.”

“Good. Making sure you didn’t forget that fact.”

“The number?” I repeat as I switch to speakerphone.

He reads off a series of numbers that I jot into the phone’s notepad, then I turn the speaker back off. A strange conglomeration of fury and despair washes over me. A man I had once loved and respected treats me no better than the servants he has working beneath him.

By the time I stroll back to the main part of the bookstore, my temper has subsided a bit but not enough to wipe the worrying look off Lila’s face. I’m not sure she realizes how attuned she is to my emotions. The way my mood affects hers. She does the same for me.

“Here,” I cough and then repeat. “This is the number for a place my family used in Miami. Just tell them Dean Harrington gave you their info. I assure you they’ll have you set up by the end of tomorrow.”

“Wow,” Bailey replies, her eyes wide with wonder as she snatches the paper from between my fingers. I sneak a glance down at Lila and smile tightly. She reciprocates and narrows her eyes, reminding me of my own nanny growing up, who would catch me in the midst of a lie.

The bell over the door chimes, and I peer over my shoulder to watch a young family enter the bookstore. The two smaller kids immediately smile and wave toward Lila.

At my raised eyebrow, Lila says, “They play with the kids at the park. Actually, the little boy invited Oliver and Evelyn to his birthday party this weekend. Sorry for the short notice. Kind of slipped my mind.”

My knowing smirk turns into a full grin as I tell her to take my credit card and buy whatever gift she thinks is best. The same card I gave to her at the airport. She’s tried to return it to me a dozen times already, but I continue to turn her down.

Bailey scoots over to the family here for a storytime session in ten minutes, but not before I overhear her tell Lila that she expects a girls’ night with all the details.

I may be a man, but I know exactly what she’s insinuating. It's too bad that Lila scurries away before anything between us can happen.

Leaving the shop, Lila and I walk back the way we came, our arms brushing every few steps.

The days are growing longer, and the setting sun shimmers off the crashing waves of the coast. I get a good glimpse of the picturesque beach every time we pass an alleyway.

It really is an adorable town. Weathered brick and wooden buildings that have stood the test of time line the streets, reminding me of a time when families took extended holidays together.

“You know, Coral Bell is great during the summer, but my favorite time is the winter. Christmas, specifically. The entire town gets all decked out in holiday garb. There is even a parade with floats and everything. It’s…uh…how my parents first met.”

“Really? That sounds like a movie,” I tell her as we approach the quaint café.

She blasts that fluorescent smile up at me, and my heart stops beating. God, she’s beautiful when she lets down her walls.

“It really does, doesn’t it? You should hear my mom tell the story. Unlike my brothers, I never tire of hearing it.”

The bell dangling above the café door jingles as I hold the door ajar for Lila to step inside, my broad shoulders barely giving her enough room to scoot by.

The scent of warm, freshly baked bread wraps around me like a blanket, reminding me of the times I’d hide away in our family’s kitchen, watching one of the staff prepare that day’s meal.

As I follow Lila inside, the muffled hum of conversation, tinkling of forks against plates, and the flickering of tiny tealight candles in the middle of every table, umbrellaed by a single carnation, gives the café an intimate, homey quality.

It is clear that Sweet Gum Café is a favorite in town, not just because of its well-used chairs and checkered tablecloths but because it also feels like a decadent slice of love.