The Little Bookshop of Love Stories: A gorgeous feel good romance to escape with this summer!

by Jaimie Admans

  ‘It is a bit weird,’ Nicole says.

  ‘It’s never come up.’

  ‘Haven’t you added him on Facebook yet?’ Mum asks. ‘He was saying you’re doing all that social media stuff together. I’m going to find him on your friends list and add him. He said he wanted to keep up to date with the knitting group.’

  I’m pretty sure he never said that. And I’m pretty sure he’s not on Facebook either.

  I look through the door at him and Bobby sitting in the living room. He looks relaxed and completely at home, nattering about the architecture of European buildings, Bobby’s favourite subject, and I’m kind of impressed that even Bobby gets on with him, because Bobby doesn’t like anyone apart from Nicole.

  ‘Is it weird that I don’t know his surname?’ I say, surprising myself because I hadn’t realised I was going to share the niggling feeling I keep getting that he’s holding something back. ‘I don’t even know where he lives. He’s vague about the book he’s working on and he doesn’t seem to be on any form of deadline. And there’s this property developer who keeps coming in and knows a creepy amount about the shop when the only other person who knows those things is …’

  ‘Maybe it’s just because Bobby likes him, and the chances of Bobby enjoying someone’s company are about as likely as the chances of me achieving sainthood,’ Nicole offers, ignoring my worries.

  ‘Maybe I’ve been too trusting because he was Robert’s friend, but every time I’m with him, all my doubts go out the window.’ I’ve still got enough sense to stop myself before I say anything more, like how those doubts are swiftly replaced by thoughts of his lips and his eyes and his smile and those freckle-dotted muscular shoulders I caught a glimpse of that day he was getting changed … Mum would have a field day with an admission like that.

  ‘You’re trying to sabotage yourself,’ Mum says. ‘You always do it when a relationship’s going well.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ It takes me a moment to realise what she’s said. ‘And there is no relationship, Mum. He’s just a friend.’

  ‘Friends don’t get that upset when I try to set their female friends up with vicars. I was only trying to make him jealous and let him know that there are other prospects out there for you if he doesn’t act quickly.’

  I don’t tell her that an elderly vicar, a happily married gay man, and a recent widow are not prospects.

  ‘Did you see how happy he looked when you said you weren’t interested?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, he did. And he’s just like you, Hal. Shy and with an odd taste in clothing.’

  ‘You still own a shell suit!’ I protest even though she’s not trying to insult him. ‘His shyness and slightly awkward weirdness are exactly what I like about him.’

  ‘So you do like him.’

  ‘No. I mean … no. Gorgeous men don’t just fall through the door of your shop and sweep you off your feet. You’re always going on about my unrealistic expectations but this is the most unrealistic of them all. He’s not …’

  I look through the open door again and this time he catches my eyes and his mouth curves into a smile that makes the butterflies inside me start zipping around with such force that I nearly drop the plate I’m wiping up. ‘This doesn’t happen in real life. My luck already changed once with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice. Unless it’s actual lightning and I’m outside carrying something metal. But that’s beside the point. There has to be a catch.’

  I look back at him and he hasn’t taken his eyes off me even though Bobby is still talking to him. ‘Somewhere. Hidden. Really, really deep.’

  Because I could never be so lucky that someone as amazing as Dimitri is really as amazing as he seems.

  ***

  ‘That was really fun,’ Dimitri says as we approach the shop. ‘Your family are amazing.’

  ‘Well, you’re still on speaking terms with me – that’s more than I expected after an evening with my mum.’

  ‘And I still have both my eyebrows. That’s more than I expected when those flames started coming out of the oven.’

  My phone beeps with a Facebook notification, which it’s been doing a lot since we put some of the notes online, and I can never resist checking it instantly in case it’s something important. ‘We’ve been tagged in a photo,’ I say as I wait for the page to load and then scroll down in confusion when a picture of two twenty-somethings clinking glasses in a brightly lit restaurant appears. ‘I don’t know what—’ I read the post. ‘Oh my God, it’s Vickie and Tommy on their first date!’

  ‘What?’ His eyes widen.

  I shove my phone at him. ‘Vickie saw our post and remembered finding the book in her school locker! She already had a copy at home and thought it was a mistake and left it on a bench for someone else to pick up. She never opened the cover!’

  I watch his face light up as he reads the caption on the photo.

  Ten years late, but I finally found out why there was a copy of The Hunger Games in my locker in Year Eleven. She’s reposted our photo of the note and tagged the shop’s page. Luckily still FB friends with this guy and finally plucked up the courage to tell him I was head-over-heels for him and still am! Thank you, Once Upon A Page! #FirstDate10YearsLate

  He hands my phone back with a smile that’s almost as bright as the Victorian streetlamp we’re standing under.

  ‘Tell me this isn’t magic! Somehow that book found the right person, because of something we did, even so many years later. And look at how happy they look! This is amazing.’

  He leans his head against the lamppost. ‘Oh, I don’t think it’s the book that’s amazing, Hal.’

  I know there’s hidden meaning in that sentence and a weird awkwardness shoots through the air between us, interspersed only by my flashing red cheeks. I shove my phone back into my pocket and kick awkwardly at one of the cobblestones.

  ‘Hallie, can we …’ He stops himself, alternately pressing his lips together like he can’t work out what to say and worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. ‘I mean … I don’t …’ He sighs in frustration at not finding the right words, but it’s okay because I don’t know what they are either.

  Eventually, he pushes himself upright and takes my hand as we carry on walking.

  He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either as his fingers slot between mine. I’m busy hoping my palms aren’t too sweaty.

  I reluctantly let go when we get back to the shop and I have to dig out my keys to unlock the shop door, hovering awkwardly while I debate whether I should invite him in or not. I’ve still got a lot of tidying up to do after the customers today, and I don’t want him to see the state of the shop and think he’s got to help, and my flat upstairs hasn’t really been unpacked yet and I’m still getting most things out of boxes so I’m not overly keen to invite him up there either … but I don’t want him to think I don’t want him to come in or to think that inviting him in insinuates something more …

  ‘I should be getting back.’ He puts an easy end to my deliberating. ‘Thank you for letting me be part of your family for a little while. It was great. Even the fire extinguisher part.’

  He’s smiling as he looks down, hesitating, like he can sense my reluctance to let him go or invite him inside. His teeth chew his lower lip and his eyes are fixed on my mouth, and for a long, awkward moment, I’m certain he’s going to kiss me goodnight. He’s got a cleft chin with a deep gap in it that I want to settle my thumb in and let my fingers stroke his face, and I so nearly reach up and do just that, and it’s only my fingers curling around the doorframe that stops me.

  Well, and the death glare from Heathcliff, who’s watching us through the window. I’m pretty sure he would not support anyone other than himself kissing Dimitri.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he murmurs so quietly that I might’ve imagined him speaking, making it sound like the sexiest word anyone has ever said. His smooth skin is so close to mine that I can sense how his sharp jawbone would feel against mine,
and my eyes close involuntarily as his lips press against my cheek and stay there for seconds that stretch out like minutes, the smell of his herby and oaky aftershave almost outdoing the loitering burnt-cheese fumes.

  My hand finds its way to his upper arm and my fingers curl into it, trying to hold him near, to let him know that as pecks on the cheek go, this is by far the most intimate one I’ve ever had, and if he wanted to stay there all night, that would be fine with me.

  He suddenly comes to his senses so hard that it makes him jump, which in turn makes me jump, which startles Heathcliff who zooms into the castle at the bottom of his tank.

  ‘Er, yeah. I’d better …’ He quickly takes a step back. ‘See you tomorrow, Hal.’

  I stand in the doorway and watch as he walks away, his shoulders slumped and his hands shoved into his pockets. He crosses the street and walks past the fountain, stopping to look back and wave before he turns onto one of the narrow back roads that lead out of Buntingorden.

  ‘That went well,’ I mutter to Heathcliff as I go in and lock the shop door behind me. I dump my bag and jacket on the stairs up to the flat, and give him his third helping of fish food today before I face the shop. It’s been a busy day. I lost an old lady in the Sagas section and didn’t find her again until long after closing time, so we were late leaving and didn’t have a chance to clean up.

  There might be a sense of magic in the air here, but it’s a shame that it doesn’t tidy itself when my back is turned.

  I pick up various books that have been left on the floor or shoved into the shelves upside down, back to front, or otherwise, and collect up children’s books that have migrated downstairs and bundle them in my arms to go back up. I gather books that have been taken out, browsed, and put back in the nearest empty spot regardless of the fact it wasn’t the spot they came out of, and finally the shelves look tidy enough to drag Henry out of the office and give the carpet a hoover.

  I want nothing more than a hot shower and a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits, so I swish around quickly, sliding across the grey carpet smoothly until the foot hits something under the Non-fiction Travel shelves. I get down on my hands and knees and slide my hand through the gathering of dust bunnies until my fingers close around a book and pull it out.

  ‘Anne of Green Gables,’ I say to Heathcliff as I brush dust off the cover, an old copy depicting a girl with her red hair in plaits, wearing a blue dress and holding her hat on as she stands on a bridge over a brook. ‘I remember my grandma reading this to me.’

  Heathcliff looks about as impressed by that as he looks at having finished his food and not being given any more.

  I open the cover anyway, even though I’m not expecting to see anything inside the dusty and forgotten book, and instantly gasp and choke on the dust I’ve accidentally inhaled.

  I recognise the looped writing, the neat curve of each word. It even looks like it might have been written in the same biro as the one in Pride and Prejudice. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I get the feeling that if I turned around, there would be a ghostly figure standing in the corner with wispy fingers reaching out towards me, although I’m pretty sure that’s my imagination running wild.

  I wipe my hands on my trousers and trace the words with my fingers, trying to glean information from them.

  To my love,

  Oh, the adventures we’ve been on, both real and fictional. The lives we’ve lived and places we’ve travelled to, when the only non-fictional adventure is the one of falling in love. Thank you for giving me the life I’ve always dreamed of.

  I can’t wait for more endless days walking by the river and sharing our dreams.

  Always forever,

  Della

  That feeling of magic sparkles again, like if I looked up at the right moment, I’d catch fairies flitting between the shelves and books closing their own covers as they finish sharing their stories for another day. I want to call Dimitri back and show him, but I don’t have his phone number or any idea where he lives or how far he’d have got by now if I tried to catch up with him. And after that awkward parting, maybe it’s best to leave it for tonight.

  Even with all the looking, all the searching inside every book we pick up, I never expected to find another note from his mum. I’m almost convinced I’m imagining it and when I look down at the book again, the page will be blank.

  It isn’t. And it feels like I was supposed to find it here tonight, alone, even though I’m fairly sure I’ve already cleaned under that shelf and it definitely wasn’t there then. It seems like it’s trying to tell me something. I just wish I knew what.

  Chapter 14

  ‘It’s not even eight o’clock!’ I stick my head out of the bedroom window and squint down at Dimitri in the burning morning sunlight.

  ‘I know! Thought we’d get an early start!’ He whacks the shovel he’s holding into the pavement and raises his other hand, containing a tray with two cardboard cups of coffee in it. ‘I also have pistachio crinkle cookies.’

  ‘Good. Because never mind digging up treasure, we’d have been going to bury your body if you hadn’t brought coffee and baked goods at this time of day.’

  ‘Never mind that, there are books to hide and treasure to be found,’ he calls after me as I pull my head back inside the window and risk a glance in the mirror to see quite what a state my hair is in. I cringe at the sight. One day I might learn that sticking my head out the window first thing in the morning when gorgeous men knock is not the best idea. Today is not that day.

  I flatten it down with my hands and go back to the window to toss the shop keys down to him. ‘Let yourself in, I’ll be down in a minute. Dimitri …’

  I wait until he’s looking up at me before I speak, trying to make eye contact even though mine are still half-stuck together. ‘There’s a book on the counter for you. You need to see the inside of it.’ I duck back inside before he can question me. I don’t want to shout out the window for the whole street to hear about his mum and the second book I found, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all night.

  By the time I make it down the stairs, washed and dressed in my favourite ‘And they lived happily ever after …’ T-shirt and jeans, he’s sitting on the counter with the book open in his hands, his fingers stroking the aged pages.

  ‘Anne of Green Gables was her favourite book as a child,’ he says when I come in. ‘I should have thought of looking for it.’

  It was one of my childhood favourites too, even generations apart from Della. I loved the whimsical story of the resilient, curious, and feisty orphan and longed to spend a day in Avonlea with her, picking apples, drinking tea and raspberry cordial, having a picnic at the Lake of Shining Waters, and wandering through the forest to see the beautiful autumn leaves.

  ‘This is really special,’ he says. ‘A glimpse into a life I didn’t know she had. Thank you for finding this.’

  It seems an odd thing to thank me for. ‘I didn’t. It found me. It was just sitting there under a shelf.’

  ‘Robert always said this shop had a way of delivering the exact book you needed at the exact moment you needed it.’

  ‘Maybe that was his stock system – a customer walks in and asks for something, and lo and behold, it hurls itself from the shelf to land at their feet? It’s certainly a more feasible explanation than anyone actually understanding Robert’s method of organisation.’ I go over to the counter and lean against it beside where he’s sitting, deliberately pressing my elbow into his thigh as I sip my coffee and pop a pistachio crinkle cookie into my mouth, the cracked sugar on top giving way to a buttery, nutty middle that melts on my tongue. I watch him gently turning the pages of Anne of Green Gables, completely lost in refamiliarising himself with the story of Anne and Diana and Gilbert. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He lifts his glasses and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I remember her reading every word of this book to me when I was little. I remember her reading it to my sis
ter over and over. And seeing it again is like being eight years old and entranced by Anne’s adventures and imagination. It’s that …’

  ‘… Unique magic books have in transporting you to a different time and place?’

  ‘Exactly.’ His wide smile makes his sad eyes twinkle again. ‘Shall we go? I need some fresh air.’

  I love that he’s not afraid to admit that. There’s something so refreshing about a man who openly talks about his emotions. I finish my coffee and reluctantly put the lid back on the container of pistachio cookies and then pick up my tote bags, sliding one onto each shoulder. He puts Anne into the office and does the same, picking up the copy of Treasure Island as well and grabbing his shovel from where it’s leaning by the door as I lock up behind us.

  We’ve got two tote bags each full of books to hide around town. They’re sealed up in waterproof bags with a note reading: You’re the finder of this book. We hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to take it and read it or leave it for someone else to find. You can keep it for as long as you like, and when you’re done, sign and date the inside of the cover and re-hide it for someone else to enjoy. And don’t forget to hide any books that you’d like to pass on as well! Feel free to take pictures and post clues and let everyone know about your book hunt on our Facebook page ~ Once Upon A Page, Buntingorden.

  I don’t think it will help business, but I’ve been following groups on social media who do this in their own towns, and it’s become really popular. It’s mostly children’s books, but why should children have all the fun? Dimitri and I have got two tote bags each – one children’s books and one adult books – all of unsellable shop stock, but still perfectly readable. I’ve already started posting about it on the Once Upon A Page Facebook page and encouraged other people to get involved too. We could have a town full of books. Books lurking around every corner. It would be amazing, and anything that encourages anyone to read has got to be a good thing.

  Outside, the morning air is fresh and warm with enough of a breeze to keep it pleasant. Even though the sun has been up for a while, it still feels like a sunrise is not far behind.