Page 42 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage (Jonathon Island #6)

Eliza blew out a breath that clouded in front of her face. As the chill from the metal bench seeped through her jeans, she stood and crossed the street to Main. “I don’t know what I want. Maybe this is it?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

She lifted a shoulder, then let it fall as she passed the newly reopened Island Bookstore. A red-and-black Help Wanted sign was taped to the glass.

“I don’t know. Until I figure out a new career path, I figured I could take on a couple more authors and become their virtual assistants or something.”

“Now, see—to me, that’s closer to where your heart lies. You get more excited giving authors the exposure they need rather than learning how to broker book deals.”

She sidestepped a sandwich board in front of Doug’s Market advertising the daily specials, then turned back toward the bookstore. She stopped in front of the door and inspected the sign.

Part-time work available. Inquire within.

The pizza and wings take-out order could wait another few minutes.

“Aunt Sally, I’ll call you back.” Without waiting for a response, she ended the call, shoved her phone in her back pocket, then pulled the sign off the glass door. Turning the handle, she stepped inside. Bells jangled against the glass.

The warmth of the room that smelled of paper and something she couldn’t quite place blanketed her face. She wiped her boots on the black-and-white patterned runner that stretched across the dark wooden floor to the checkout counter. Soft jazz played through a hidden sound system.

Gray curtains covered the lower half of the storefront windows, allowing light to stream through only the upper half.

Pendant lights hanging from the tiled ceiling cast a warm glow over the white brick walls, wraparound wall racks, and multiple rows of chin-high shelves arranged behind a cozy sitting area in front of a lit electric fireplace.

Oliver Sullivan, her friend Dani’s older brother, looked up from the register, where he added something to the drawer and closed it. He folded his arms over his chest. “Eliza Quinn. Dani mentioned you were back on island. I haven’t seen you in what—ten or eleven years?”

She took in his short, dark-brown wavy hair, sharp, well-defined jawline, high cheekbones lined with dark scruff, and those striking blue eyes.

Shouldn’t he be wearing a stuffy cardigan or something instead of the black polo shirt tucked into black chinos that emphasized his broad shoulders and flat abs?

She’d always admired her friend’s older brother who was going to take the literary world by storm. But he was five years older and definitely off-limits. He probably never saw her as more than Dani’s pesky friend.

The Ollie she remembered, though—the one with the windblown hair, easy smile, and quick comebacks—wasn’t the one who stood stoically behind the counter and watched her with eyes that had lost their spark.

“Hey, Ollie.” She flashed him a wide smile. “The last time I saw you was the summer that the…uh…you were living on a houseboat—the Molly Brown , was it?—with Kyle Munson, your brother Ty, Waylen Barrett, and who was the other guy?”

“Brandon Kelley.”

“Right.” She fought the cringe that wanted to scrunch up her face and mentally kicked herself for referencing the summer that changed the island forever—the summer the Grand burned.

She waved a hand over the room. “Congrats on the new store. Heard you and Jonah White took it over once Bob and Lucinda Johnson finally decided to sell.”

“Only took ’em fifty years.” Hands tucked under his arms, he lifted his chin. “What are you doing with my sign? I just hung that up.”

Eliza slapped it on the counter. “I’m the answer to your prayers.”

She hadn’t expected to stay on island once her parents were settled in their cottage, but seeing that Help Wanted sign stirred something inside of her.

She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t ignore her instincts.

Now to convince Oliver Sullivan he needed to hire her.

* * *

Oliver Sullivan knew regret too well.

He wasn’t about to let a Help Wanted sign earn a place. Hiring help before the season opened made sense. Get someone trained before business picked up. And Jonah had agreed.

Less than ten minutes after hanging his sign, a dark-haired dynamo blew into his shop like a strong wind and expected to be hired on the spot.

And she’d been the only person in the shop since he opened three hours ago.

“I’m here to save you hours of tedious interviews by giving you the opportunity to hire me right now.

” Eliza Quinn raised a perfectly arched eyebrow as she leveled him with her brown eyes.

“I’m a hard worker. Easy going. I love books.

I can work a flexible schedule. Well, except Sunday mornings—church, you know. ”

“We’re closed on Sundays.”

“Even better.” She pulled off her white knitted hat with a fluffy pom-pom that released a faint crackle as her hair clung to the fibers, untied the bulky matching scarf, and dropped both on the counter, messing up one of his displays.

Then she unzipped her white coat, revealing a yellow hoodie with Just a girl who loves books written in some sort of script font.

Her dark jeans emphasized her long legs and slight curves.

“And I’m never late. In fact, you should give me a key because I’ll probably beat you to work.”

He scoffed. Couldn’t help it. “Not likely.”

She didn’t need to know he practically lived at the store…or at least above it. His eyes shot to the ceiling, then redirected back to her.

He’d known Eliza and her family since they took over the 3Q Ranch and stables nearly thirty years ago after her grandparents chose to retire. And she used to hang out with his baby sister, Dani, when they were growing up.

Eliza trailed a finger over a round oak table by the checkout counter that highlighted Victor Holt’s latest fantasy release, The Defender , and then moved and stood in front of the electric fireplace on the right wall and rubbed her hands together.

Two armless brown couches held pillows featuring Shakespeare’s and Edgar Allen Poe’s faces.

She returned to the counter, her footsteps tapping against the polished hardwood floor. “This is a cute place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cute wasn’t the vibe Jonah and I were going for.”

“Were you going for dark and tomb-like?” She waved a hand toward the closed curtains. “How can customers see what you have to offer if you close them out?”

“Buttering up the manager won’t get you hired any faster.”

She looked at him a moment and crossed her arms, hands on her elbows. “I heard about your wife. I’m sorry. Losing someone you love is the hardest thing to endure.”

The softness in her eyes arrowed him in the gut. Not pity like so many others. But understanding maybe?

“Thanks. I heard about Jared. I’m sorry. I always liked your brother.”

Nodding, she bit her bottom lip and lowered her head. “Everyone did. He was a great guy.” Then she lifted her chin, a wide smile on her face as if the past ten seconds hadn’t happened. “So, when do I start?”

“I haven’t hired you yet.” Oliver moved from behind the counter and leaned against the front if it, ankles crossed.

“Minor detail. When do I start?” She stood in front of him, hands clasped.

He ran a hand down his face. “You’re persistent.”

“One of my best qualities.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Like your hiring process?” She shot him a grin. “What are you looking for?”

“Someone part-time?—”

“I can do part-time.” Her words came out in a rush. “In fact, I can start right now, if you want.”

He stared at her a moment, then lifted his hands and dropped them back to his sides.

“Fine, you’re hired. But I can’t do paperwork right now.

I close an hour early on Saturdays for a children’s story time, and they’ll be here shortly.

You’re welcome to stay, and then I can walk you through how things are done. ”

She jerked a thumb toward the door. “I have to pick up an order from Kelley’s and run it back to the ranch. Then I can come back.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “No need. Come in on Monday. We open at noon during the offseason.”

She grinned as she zipped up her jacket. “Thanks, Ollie. You won’t regret it.”

He held up a hand. “One rule.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t call me Ollie.”

“But everyone does.” She headed for the door and waved. “Bye Ol—Oliver.”

Bells clanged against the glass as she closed the door behind her.

He dragged a hand through his hair.

What just happened?

That was the most unconventional interview he’d done. If he could even call it an interview.

Was his quiet book shop ready for someone like Eliza?

Blowing out a breath, he pushed away from the counter and opened the curtains in front of the windows. Gray light drifted over the empty display platform.

The scent of paper and coffee-scented candles from a display drifted over him as he straightened a carousel of last-minute purchases to catch customers’ attention—bookmarks, magnets, and postcards of the island—and the stack of upcoming events that had been messed up when she tossed her hat and scarf on the counter.

He wandered through the rows of books, his Converses tapping lightly against the walnut flooring as he inspected the shelves. He righted a mug on one of the rotating cases that held mugs with quotes from famous authors, bookmarks, highlighters, and sticky notes.

He moved past the fiction section, walked into the side room, and flipped on the light.

The woodland theme came to life as air blowing through the heating vents stirred the mobiles of birds hanging from the ceiling.

The Kids Cave as he liked to call it. His twin sister Kate had used her artistic eye and helped him design it.