Page 48 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

TWENTY-THREE

Romantic Headquarters

D oug’s Books had been through a lot, but was slowly beginning to show signs of rising from the literal ashes.

The building had undergone quite the overhaul, including debris removal, water damage mitigation, specialized cleaning for the removal of smoke and soot, and electrical rewiring to ensure future safety.

While they awaited the building inspection, they worked toward transitioning the interior back into a bookstore.

Ella pitched in as much as she possibly could, whether that meant helping Doug in his quest to choose new bookshelves or unpacking new inventory, which was actually her favorite task ever.

Slicing open a brand-new box of books and seeing the covers revealed in all their glory was her own personal form of worship.

Who would have imagined that when she lost her job at a marketing firm, it would be books that not only saved her but also transformed her life in every way possible?

As she held a copy of Casey McQuiston’s newest release, she inhaled the wonderful scent of a fresh, new book ready for someone special to creep off to a corner and devour.

People would host book club discussions about this book, hold it in the highest regard on their favorites shelf, or conversely, throw it across the room in frustration.

She smiled at the impact it would have on so many.

That’s when she heard a noise she distinctly recognized, sniffling. She stood and turned, looking for Doug, the only other human in the closed shop at 9 a.m. on a Thursday. He had to be the source.

“Doug?”

More sniffling, but no answer. She heard a higher-pitched sound akin to a whimper.

“Are you okay?” she called, frowning, peering around the corner to see Doug in his maroon cardigan, sleeves too long, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.

Hearing her approach, he lifted his face, tear-stained and twisted with sorrow.

Her breath caught. “Doug,” Ella whispered, her heart shattered at the image.

“I just want it back the way it was,” he choked out. “I want to go back. I won’t plug that coffee pot in again. I promise.” A sob shook him. “I miss my store.”

Ella took a deep breath and nodded. It made perfect sense.

Doug had spent so much of his time working to restore the shop and thanking everyone for all they’d done that he likely hadn’t taken time to grieve for what was.

Instinctively, she moved to him. He wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but she wrapped her arms around him anyway, and he leaned into the hug.

For several moments, they sat just like that as she allowed him to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” she said finally. “I don’t know why things like this happen, but maybe Doug’s 2.

0 will be every bit as amazing. Maybe it will even surpass your expectations. ”

“Yes. Maybe.” She could feel him nod and straighten. “I’m crying like an old fool.”

“You’re well within your rights as a human being. I think you have to let yourself feel, grieve.”

He sighed and sat back. “Sometimes I just can’t imagine starting over. I’m a creature of habit and like things just so.”

“I definitely identify.” She gave her head a shake.

Her path hadn’t been as catastrophic, but it had been daunting.

“I upended my life, took on a whole new job and relationship. But you know what? I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

” She was, too. For the first time in a very long while, she felt in the foreground of her own life.

She wasn’t the faceless woman behind a laptop, turning in projects that no one even recognized as hers.

She had a girlfriend who appreciated the little things about her.

Her quirks. And that made all the difference.

“And maybe in the end, you’ll be happier than ever before, too.

But I think it’s okay to let yourself mourn for the old store. ”

He stared into her eyes. “You’ve been a nice friend to me,” he stated. His gaze was coated in gratitude and warmth, two emotions that weren’t common for Doug, at least on the exterior.

She nodded. “You’ve been a good friend right back.”

“We’re a couple of book weirdos, aren’t we?” He sniffled.

“Yeah, but the best variety.” He gave her hand a squeeze, stood, and brushed off his pants as if he’d been sitting in dirt.

She knew it was the emotional equivalent, and he was wiping away the excess, gearing up to go back to work with a level head.

And he would. This store would be amazing once again with incremental work and a little bit of tender care. The books demanded it.

She stayed at the shop through the afternoon until the sun began its descent in the sky, opting to work on her latest cover right there, knowing her presence, even as she huddled quietly in the corner with her tablet, was a form of support for Doug on what had been a hard day.

Afterward, she swung by her place to grab some clothes, give Rachel a squeeze as she moved through the kitchen, and head to Max’s, where she spent most of her nights these days.

She didn’t knock because she was expected.

Breezing into the kitchen and expecting to see Max prepping a meal or pouring a couple of glasses of wine proved unsuccessful.

“Ms. Wyler? Where might I find thee?” She strolled through the living room, smiled at Max’s leather attaché on the floor near the square coffee table that doubled as a seat.

She heard the water the closer she walked to the bedroom.

They’d just texted a few minutes earlier.

Max must have decided to hop in the shower for a quick revive and relax.

While she wanted to waltz into the room and join her beneath the stream, Ella took a seat on the bed instead, just in case Max was angling for a few moments on her own to decompress.

It was only a few minutes before she emerged in nothing but her towel. Ella’s mouth went dry.

“Well, hello,” Max said, her lips easing into a smile.

“Hello,” Ella said, blinking in amazement. Max’s long legs and the round tops of her breasts peeking out of that towel were the very things she needed in her life at this moment. “Early evening shower?”

Max nodded, a stray strand of dark hair falling just shy of her right eye.

“I had an angry couple this afternoon. Lots of shouting. Very little listening to reason or logic, which made for a frustrating afternoon. I wanted to wash all of that away so it didn’t touch our evening. Also, hi. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Ella met her brown eyes. “I want you to know that I very much appreciate the shower, only because it brought me to this moment.”

“Is that right?” Max’s eyes danced. “What moment would that be?”

“The one with you in this towel. Looking like that.” The expanse of smooth skin had Ella’s mouth watering and her fingertips itching to trace every curve.

Max let go of the two ends of the towel she had clasped in front of her, and the whole thing dropped to the floor. “What towel was that?” she asked with innocent eyes.

With a sweet smile, she moved past Ella to the dresser and began to look for a T-shirt, leaving Ella standing there, still like a video buffering, to take in the show.

And she did. She watched from behind as Max perused her clothing options.

Her long, dark hair rested on the olive skin on her back.

Ella followed the lines of Max’s ridiculous body from the trim waist that flared into the curve of her hips to the perfectly round ass and ridiculously sexy thighs.

Ella wanted to touch her so badly it hurt.

She also couldn’t help but notice Max taking her sweet time, which was too much encouragement to ignore.

She approached her from behind and placed her hands on Max’s waist, and smiled when she went still.

“Oh, hello.” Max turned her head to the side and met Ella’s gaze over her shoulder.

Her eyes were hooded, the desire more than evident behind them. She seemed to like the objectification.

“What is it you’re working on over here?” Ella asked.

“Oh.” She swallowed. “I was just organizing the drawer a little. It’s out of control.”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you. Organize away.”

Max relaxed her arms and then continued to explore the contents of her T-shirt drawer, rearranging items and straightening what needed to be straightened.

In the meantime, Ella did some exploring of her own.

She eased lower on Max’s waist until her hands landed on the curve of her ass, which definitely needed a full caress.

She closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of the warm, soft skin.

But it was merely a means to get to where she really wanted her hands.

On a mission, she slipped one between Max’s legs and stroked her ever so softly from behind, closing her eyes at the warm, wet heat that she found there. Max exhaled audibly.

“Don’t mind me,” Ella said. “Keep going. That drawer needs you.”

“Right. The drawer.”

With her foot, Ella nudged one of Max’s legs to the side, widening her stance just enough.

Then, with deliberate softness, she ran her fingers through the gentle folds between Max’s thighs, her touch barely there—just a whisper at first, then another.

She lingered in that teasing rhythm until she felt Max shift, angling herself into Ella’s hand, silently pleading for more.

But Ella held back, never quite letting her touch reach Max’s clit, on purpose, of course.