Page 9 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

THE PURRING PAGE

Sophia

S tepping into the Purring Page is like falling through a gentle portal into another world. The air smells like books and coffee. A sleepy Siamese cat eyes me lazily from atop a vintage wingback chair, clearly judging my presence in its territory.

I glance around the cozy bookstore, soaking in the whimsical clutter: shelves crammed with colorful spines, mismatched armchairs with crocheted throws, and little wooden signs promising sage advice such as “Life is short, read faster.”

A woman smiles curiously from behind a counter overflowing with paperbacks and porcelain cat figurines. “Hello there! Welcome to the Purring Page. Need help finding anything?”

“Actually, yes!” I step forward. “Ethan recommended this place for inspiration and cappuccino.”

“Ethan, huh?” Her smile widens knowingly, eyes sparkling with immediate curiosity. “Are you the designer helping out with the Miller House? Sage’s niece?”

“Wow,” I say, startled. “News really does travel fast!”

“Small-town grapevine,” she shrugs apologetically. “I’m Mia, by the way. Bookshop owner and part-time cat wrangler.”

“I’m Sophia,” I reply, shaking her outstretched hand. “New town refugee and, apparently, Ethan’s latest recruit for a questionable renovation project.”

Her laugh is melodic and instantly disarming. “Running from or to something?”

“A bit of both, maybe!” I shrug. What am I really doing here?

I settle onto a stool that Mia quickly cleared by shooing away the plump, disgruntled Siamese cat, who will dislike me after this. “I’m here for design inspiration and possibly moral support.”

Mia nods knowingly, then scratches the back of her neck before heading to a dusty, remote corner of the bookstore. She returns moments later, sliding an enormous, leather-bound volume across the counter. “Architectural Digest meets Haunted Houses Weekly. Guaranteed inspiration.”

I chuckle, flipping open the book. Elegant Victorian interiors, beautifully photographed rooms of rich textures, ornate moldings, and timeless charm fill the pages. My heart beats a bit faster. This could work.

I hesitate. “Ethan said you serve delicious cappuccino here. Is that true, or am I a victim of false advertising?”

She chuckles. “No lies on that front! I brew a mean cappuccino.”

I laugh, instantly warming to her easy humor. Mia hands me a steaming mug moments later, the rich scent of coffee wafting deliciously through the shop.

“Your cappuccino,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell Sage. She’ll never forgive me.”

“My lips are sealed,” I promise gratefully, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. “You’re officially my favorite person in Bluewater Cove.”

“Careful. Ethan might get jealous.”

I glance up sharply, heart fluttering unexpectedly at her teasing grin. “Oh, no — it’s strictly professional,” I say quickly. Too quickly, maybe.

She raises an eyebrow knowingly. “Of course. Professional.” She winks at me.

I clear my throat, still flustered. “Is he always so… easygoing? Or is that just with new people?”

Mia’s smile softens. “That’s pretty much Ethan.

Easygoing, steady as bedrock. He’s the guy who’ll help you move furniture at midnight and never make it weird.

But when it comes to romance?” She gives a playful shrug.

“He’s never been a serial dater. Not brooding or anything, just picky.

I think he’s been waiting for someone who fits. ”

I swallow, fingers brushing the edge of a gilded photo. “Waiting, huh?”

Mia chuckles. “Waiting, yes. And not great at admitting it. So, if a certain interior designer finds him interesting, she might have to make the first move.”

I feel my cheeks heat, but I can’t stop the smile that forms. “Noted.”

I pause, fingertips brushing over a photograph of a warmly lit reading nook. “He’s lived here a while?”

“Born and raised,” she confirms with a nod. “Went off for university for a bit, had a couple flings but never brought anyone serious back. And once he settled in, started his freelance work... that was it. He just sort of made a life for himself, solo.”

There’s something quietly admirable about that — a man who built his life intentionally, not just waiting around for something to fall into place.

Before I can probe some more, the bell over the door jingles.

“Morning, Mia! Tell me you can fill my caffeine need. Lucas’ steamer is still out of business,” a woman calls, breezing inside in running tights and a bright fleece.She spots me, slows, then grins. “Well, hey. I don’t know you. So I guess you must be Sophia — Ethan’s partner in renovation crime?”

I straighten, suddenly aware I’m still clutching the giant design tome. “Guilty.?You’re…?”

“Claire.” She offers a firm handshake, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Campground manager, occasional life coach, and long-suffering best friend to that tall goof you keep running into.”

I laugh, nerves loosening. “Nice to meet you. Long-suffering, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Claire leans an elbow on the counter. “He buys a haunted house on a whim, ropes you in, and still thinks it’s a flawless plan. Classic Ethan.” She winks, but there’s warmth beneath the teasing.

“Flawless plan?” I joke, playing along.

Mia shoots a look at Claire. “Don’t mind her, she likes to romanticize everything that happens in this town. Ethan is known for being a bit extravagant.”

“You afraid I’ll steal you or Oliver’s place as resident authors?” Claire shoots back without hesitation.

I watch the banter between these two friends, not quite sure what to make of it and of Claire’s relationship with Ethan.

“Need any tips to survive said tall goof?” Claire asks, suddenly turning to face me.

“Sure,” I reply hesitantly, caught off guard.

“Coffee first, optimism second, headlamp third — that house must have the world’s worst wiring.” She flashes a grin, then nods toward Mia. “Caffeine emergency solved?”

Mia produces a to-go cup. “Here you go.”

Claire accepts it triumphantly. “You’re a lifesaver. Nice meeting you, Sophia. And welcome to the circus. I’m sure we’ll be good friends. I have a sixth sense about these things.” With a friendly salute she’s gone, the bell chiming in her wake.

I watch her disappear, a flutter of something — nerves? — twisting in my stomach.

Mia sighs, shaking her head. “Sorry about that. The life of a bookstore owner!”

I smile. “You seem to enjoy it.”

“Love it!” Mia chuckles softly. “So, back to Ethan — sorry, your ‘professional arrangement.’”

Mia must notice my nervousness, because she nudges the cappuccino toward me. “Don’t overthink it. Claire teases everyone, especially people Ethan actually likes.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks. “He hardly knows me.”

“True,” Mia says, eyes kind.

“There’s nothing between them?”

“There were rumors about them for years. But they’re more like siblings. They’d rather tease each other to death than date.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Ah.”

Mia glances up, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just confirmed that you were totally off-base on a theory?”

I laugh, flustered. “Busted.”

She winks, then returns to her stack of books. “Well, if there’s more to the story now, I don’t think anyone in town would mind a new, ‘purely professional’ chapter.”

“Exactly,” I murmur weakly, unable to meet her teasing eyes. “Purely professional.”

“Sure,” Mia replies, lips curling upward. “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here. Ethan deserves someone good in his life, personally or professionally.”

I bite my lip, gaze dropping again to the book’s open pages. A beautifully restored living room catches my eye, sunlight spilling across polished hardwood floors and furniture perfectly placed. It’s precisely what I envisioned, and my pulse quickens with excitement.

Mia notices my expression softening and smiles gently. “Looks like you’re already falling in love.”

I snap my gaze upward sharply. “With the house. Definitely the house.”

“Of course.” Mia’s eyes twinkle knowingly. “Just the house.”

I close the book decisively with a little flourish and I stand, clutching it to my chest like a shield. “I think I should go do some research — alone. Preferably without any more romantic conspiracy theories.”

Mia grins unapologetically. “In that case, I’d avoid Main Street entirely. Too many romantics with excellent eyesight.”

I let out a mock groan. “Noted. Any quiet corners you recommend for research?”

Her eyes brighten with mischief. “The beach?”

I narrow mine. “I sense a trap.”

She laughs, raising her hands innocently. “Hey, I’m just a helpful librarian. Any romantic coincidences are purely accidental.”

“I’ll take my chances at the art gallery. But I might come back later if you promise fewer matchmaking attempts.”

“No promises,” she says cheerfully while we walk to the cash register.

Once I’ve paid and I’m walking out the door, I hear her say, “Good luck, Sophia. You might need it.”

I laugh, the door jingling behind me as I step out, feeling just a little lighter than when I’d walked in.

I step back onto the sunny sidewalk, Mia’s words ringing softly in my ears. Ethan Reed, stubbornly single. Interesting.

As I clutch the heavy book tighter against my chest, heading back toward the art gallery, I realize I’m not just renovating rooms and choosing paint colors.

I’m tiptoeing carefully into Ethan’s mysterious, independent life, and I’m worried about the impact I’ll have on it, especially since I’m unsure whether I’ll stay long.