Page 39 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

TWENTY-NINE

KIRA

Armed with an iced caramel mocha, I headed for the bookstore an hour ahead of the time the book club was scheduled to meet. The store wasn’t technically open today, as Dad wanted to preserve the book club’s final meeting the best he could, but I had permission to sell books if someone walked in.

The big going-out-of-business sale would start tomorrow, and go through the end of the week.

I agreed to stay through the duration of it, even if it was likely to gut me.

This weekend, it was all hands on deck, with my brothers and the rest of my family to clear out whatever remained, bookshelves included.

Mom would want me here.

At least, I hoped so.

After the sale was over, and the business fully liquidated, I’d make an official decision about moving home. Because right now, my head was still a giant jumble all thanks to a very titillating kiss that played on repeat without my express permission. A kiss I shouldn’t crave again.

If only Beckett hadn’t been a fucking incredible man last night when I was at a low point, maybe the potency of said kiss would have worn off by now.

Maybe.

But doubtful.

How many times did I have a meltdown and just wanted a fucking hug from Travis, only to be met with a cold stare and the even colder “I’m not enabling this behavior by giving you a hug” bullshit he spewed.

Beckett held me. He listened. He asked for nothing. Never once did he make me feel like a burden or an idiot for the choices I made. He didn’t try to convince me I did something to deserve this. That it was somehow all my fault.

Beckett Campbell was quicksand.

If I had any sense at all, I’d keep that in the forefront of my mind.

But the memory of that soul-awakening kiss on the boat dock had already booked a room. Seemed like it was planning on a long-term stay.

That kiss was all-consuming. Unlike anything I’d ever dreamed up.

I prided myself on writing great first kiss scenes in my Diana books—my readers would back me up—but kissing Beckett made me question everything I knew about my creative abilities.

I could hardly find the words to describe what I experienced.

The current of warmth that skittered through my body like a tingly caress and awakened parts of me I didn’t realize existed, much less were dormant.

The way I felt as though I were floating out of my body and simultaneously more grounded than I’d ever been.

It seemed like fiction.

And yet, I could feel the sensation now, as though his lips were pressed to mine in this very moment.

It was so damn tempting to kiss him last night. To reach my fingertips to his jaw and pull his lips to mine for a taste of that drug-induced kiss once more as he held me.

Did I ever once feel that full-body buzz when Travis kissed me?

No.

Never.

Not even when things were good.

If Beckett could kiss like that, what could he do to other parts of me?

“Friends, Kira. Just friends.”

The click of the deadbolt as I unlocked the front door of the bookstore brought me back to the present. I dropped the leash, allowing Husker to trot inside ahead of me.

The welcoming scent of books was almost enough to drown out the deafening silence.

Almost.

I missed the days when Mom left a dog bed out for Husker and any other furry visitors that might stop by the store. She once kept a jar of homemade dog treats at the counter as well.

If the store were mine, that was the first thing I’d bring back.

But the store would never be mine.

In a few days, it wouldn’t exist at all.

A tremor threatened to rip through my body, but I choked it back down.

Dad wanted so desperately for the book club to have one last, normal meeting.

I didn’t need to drag down the mood with waterworks that may or may not be contagious.

Many of the members coming today had known me since diapers.

Members who were more like family members.

I had to stay strong for them. I wanted today to be special.

“Let’s get this place ready,” I said to Husker.

I shot Aspen a text to check on the cupcake order she promised to have delivered, then set to work.

Though a checklist waited in a binder at the register, I moved about the shop on muscle memory.

I started the coffee pot, adjusted the chairs around the table, wiped down the dusty table, set pads of paper, an array of colorful fountain pens, and book tabs at both ends.

I turned on white twinkle lights overhead, fighting my discouragement that half of them were burned out.

Nothing I could do about that now. Some twinkle lights were better than none.

I grabbed dusting spray and a rag. I didn’t have the time to clean properly, but I could at least address the areas closest to the community table.

While I cleaned, Husker wandered off toward the back, refusing to come back when I called to him.

“Bubbies, you better not be licking the books.”

He looked up at the top shelf in the paranormal romance section, as though someone stood there talking to him. His head tilted at that familiar sharp angle as I approached.

“You better not be making friends with that fucking spider?— ”

As I approached him, I caught a whiff of something sweet. Something floral. Something familiar .

The hairs stood on my arms, as though I stood near a spot where lightning recently struck. I dropped my hand to my chest, feeling it fill with warmth.

“Mom?”

The bells jingled overhead, startling me from my trance.

“Special delivery for Kira Mason.”

Husker sprinted toward the front, reaching Beckett two seconds before he pulled the door closed behind him.

I glanced once more toward the shelf that held my books, and whispered, “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”

“Hey, Husker.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, forcing myself to walk slowly despite the urge to copy my dog and run right into Beckett’s arms.

“Aspen asked if I’d drop off some cupcakes,” he said. “She said she’s bringing the rest shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said, struggling to meet his gaze for more than half a second at a time. I might have only known this man for a week, but I was past being able to pretend I wasn’t catching feelings. I’d take the secret to my grave, but the lie I told myself wasn’t sticking anymore.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding like he meant it.

I moved behind the counter to unbox the cupcakes, desperate for the physical barrier between us so I didn’t make any reckless decisions when it came to those very strong, very warm, very capable arms.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? ”

“I’d really like to pretend none of that happened,” I said, plating the cupcakes.

My finger slipped and stole a smudge of frosting on accident. I automatically brought it to my lips and sucked the frosting away, realizing my mistake only when I caught Beckett staring.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and turning his back to me. “The shelves are fuller than I thought they’d be.”

“Sale starts tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“Would you believe there are more boxes of books upstairs?”

“Really?”

“Mom used to get deliveries almost daily. That was my favorite part of being here, opening the boxes to see all the new books. It was like a treasure hunt.”

“You sure you don’t want the bookstore? I hear the new landlord’s a really nice guy.”

“You’re sweet,” I said, setting aside a vanilla cupcake on a small plate and tearing off a corner for Husker. “But it wouldn’t work.”

The conversation between Dad and Pauline replayed in my mind, reminding me just how impossible it was.

I had money, especially after this latest book release, but if I burned through half of it just to get the business back in the black, I wouldn’t last the summer.

Mom had good years, but I remember her stressing about the years when the profit was razor thin at best.

“What if it could work? ”

Before I could give Beckett an answer, the bells jingled over the front door.

“I brought margaritas!” Dylann Jenkins announced, as half a dozen elderly women flocked inside behind her.

Husker slipped by me before I could grab his collar, but Beckett caught him.

“I got him,” he said, reaching for the leash I left on the counter.

“You know I don’t drink,” Carol Ann Collins said to Dylann.

“That’s why I brought virgin daiquiris,” Lotti Daniels said.

“I smell coffee,” Carlos Jeffries said approvingly, adjusting his purple, thick-rimmed glasses as he inhaled deeply.

“Wait. Is that Kira I see?” Thelma Anderson stood taller than anyone in the group, aside from Beckett. A slow, approving smile spread across her lips. “You’re a redhead. I fucking love it!”

I was attacked with heartfelt hugs, some gentle, some borderline violent, all given with the utmost love. Tears I could no longer hold back trickled down my face as the women—and Carlos—chattered on top of one another.

“I love the new hair!”

“I’m so glad you ditched The Ass Weasel.”

“It’s so fitting you’re here for our last Nook meeting.”

“We’ve missed having you.”

“I heard you fell into the lake and were rescued by that new hunky handyman.”

“He’s right there, Lotti.”

“Oh, hey, hunky handyman. ”

“Your mom would love this.”

“You look hot!”

“When are you moving home?”

“You should marry this hunky handyman and have his babies.”

“Down, Lotti.”

“I’ll babysit.”

“We’ve missed you!”

“Welcome home, sweetie.”

Husker soaked up all the enthusiastic pets, and gobbled up what I sincerely hoped were dog treats, but highly suspected were not. As long as no one was sneaking him special treats, all would be well. If they got him high, well, I’d cross that bridge only if it was necessary.

“What are you drinking, honey?” Thelma asked me as she pulled out a chair to set her heavy tote on.

“The virgin daiquiri sounds right up my alley. If it’s actually virgin.”