Page 25 of With Stars in Her Eyes

Thea

I rested my chin on my hand with my elbow propped on the Squid counter, sighing heavily as the door swung closed with Courtney on the other side. Courtney was headed back to the bookstore, carrying an empty thermos of the soup we had just spent forty-five minutes sharing during our lunch together.

I sunk my teeth into my lower lip to keep every bit of giddiness out of my expression. Because I shouldn’t still have butterflies every time. We had done this nearly every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for weeks . We had never formally planned it. It somehow made the entire thing more exciting.

She hadn’t asked for my number, but that was probably my fault for leading with the no texting thing.

I had been out of town the last three weekends, so it wasn’t like I could have easily asked Courtney out then. I had been spending the rest of my time in the space I had transformed into a functional photography studio.

Next week was the final weekend of my obligations back in Huntsville. The wedding rehearsal. Then I would be back. And then come hell or high water I’d be asking the beautiful bookseller out.

I mean… if I felt brave enough by then. And if it didn’t seem like it would screw everything up.

But maybe I was being friend-zoned again? Maybe taking it slow had backfired?

Dang it all.

Twenty-three lunches together.

Not that I was counting.

Because counting would make this pathetic. Because my pouty, irrepressible pining wasn’t pathetic at all.

The door opened again, and Marshall walked through it.

He was even showered and dressed and looking at least 40 percent less depressed than he had during the last couple months since he was cut from his team.

At least I had made progress in one area of my life if romance was going to be stalled out completely. Marshall was doing so much better.

“Why don’t you just call her?” He peered down at the scratch paper where I had been doodling little hearts.

I crossed out my doodles. “Because I still don’t have her number.”

“Ah… okay. I think I know what’s happening.” He shook his head ruefully. “So…”

“Don’t say it, Marshall.”

“Let me guess.”

“Stop talking…”

“You must have given little Courtney Starling your”—Marshall assumed a posture and voice that was evidently supposed to be an imitation of her but that sounded more like Sally Field in Steel Magnolias —“I don’t do digital dating—”

I hid my face beneath the book that Courtney had left for me yesterday. “Shut up.”

“—talk. You hadn’t bargained on her being incredibly patient.

But now you’re dying inside because you’re horny as hell from all your reading of sexy, smutty books…

” He grabbed the book out of my hand, so I had nowhere to hide.

“And now you want to tell her to hurry the hell up, but you think if you do that, you’ll fall back into a pattern you don’t want to repeat. ”

I had only recently learned the term slow burn , and I didn’t think it was clear enough that being in a slow burn made the slow burner feel like she could combust at any dang moment.

“Why are you so mean to me when all I’ve ever done is to love you like a brother?”

Marshall chuckled. “Because you never miss a chance to give me shit and didn’t let me wallow. All I’m saying is that maybe you need to figure out a way to woo her.”

“Woo her?”

“Isn’t that what they used to call it in the days of corsets and ballrooms?” He held up the historical romance book like he was Vanna White, and I’d just asked to buy a vowel. And yes , the vowel probably would have been an O.

Damn it. The two women on the cover were in Regency dress.

My mouth went dry at the idea of Courtney wearing a suit and pushing me up against a dark corner and reaching up under my dress…

or maybe we would both be in suits and there would be suspenders pushed over shoulders and torn-off ties or both in dresses with fingers ripping through lace and thigh-high stockings and bending Courtney over a… God, the possibilities were endless.

Marshall’s enormous hand waved in front of my face. “Hey, horndog. Stop drooling because of whatever fantasies you got going on in your brain. You’re at work.”

I licked my lips. “I need a plan.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re still coming to my first book club with me on Thursday, right?”

“Yep.” Marshall checked his watch. “Did you still need my help in your studio tonight?”

“If you have time. Putting the final touches on some things, and I want to get out that camera I told Sam I would set up for the book fair and make sure it still works… hm…”

“Hmm?”

“Oh…” I grinned. “I may have developed the beginnings of an idea for how to woo the mysterious bookseller next door.”

“ Finally .”

I looked up at him. “Finally?”

“Yes, finally. I was on the verge of taking bets with Samantha.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep thinking every person is going to run off after you actually make a move, Thea. She obviously likes you. Everyone around here sees it. But she’s shy. The woman still won’t talk much if I’m around. You can be brave.”

“Speaking of brave, Ms. Jeannie stopped in yesterday looking for you. I forgot to tell you when I got home last night. Did she ever find you?”

“No…” Marshall seemed to shrink. “She didn’t.”

“Why do you look like a small, cornered prey animal right now? What did she want to talk to you about?”

“I look like a what? And how should I know what she wanted to talk to me about?”

“Anyway I told her you’ll be at the book club, so she can talk to you then.”

“Wait… Ms. Jeannie’s in this book club too?”

“Yes… and you look like you know exactly why she was looking for you and don’t want to talk about it?”

“I’m just…” He shrugged. “Just having a difference of opinion with my father about something. And Ms. Jeannie always likes to put her two cents into everything.” He knocked once on the counter.

“It’ll be okay. Just not holding with the old man’s unfounded accusations and everyone around here is deciding I’m the bad guy.

Jesus .” The last sentences were said in a mutter as he walked back out.

“I’m gonna go find her. I’ll be back later. ”

When I finished my last appointment, I walked outside and took a deep breath. The June sun felt buttery warm, and the skies overhead were a perfectly crisp azure. Not a wisp of clouds or hint of haze.

It was the kind of day that had always sent me racing out of town with my camera or my grandfather’s telescope when I lived back home.

With my work fixing up the studio, I hadn’t been checking the weather as often.

If I left now, I could pack up everything and be out in dark skies territory in time to try out that new technique I had been researching weeks ago.

After checking three weather apps, I abandoned my plans to work on the studio setup tonight and shot a text to Marshall about the change in my plans. When all my equipment was loaded into my car, my phone vibrated. It wasn’t Marshall though.

It was my mom. She had access to my online calendar and my location, so she probably knew I was off work by now.

I’d be driving out to areas with spotty service soon, and if I answered I’d get stuck on the phone for hours as usual. If I was going to get the angle I wanted on the planets that would appear at dusk, I should get driving.

If I could maintain my boundaries about dating and texting, I should probably start practicing the same kind of boundaries with my mom. I had already talked with her today, and if it was an emergency, she wouldn’t have been waiting until my workday ended to call.

With a tiny, defiant nod, I plugged in my phone and cranked up the same Irish folk band we had listened to in Nic’s truck on the studio clean-out day.

My cheeks heated at the memory of Courtney holding my hands to warm them in the back seat.

I rolled down my windows and powered out onto the road, singing along with the music at the top of my lungs.

Maybe I was making progress here.