“A few, huh?” Britta teased. “I see good things for you two in the future.”
Anika ducked her head, but not before Britta saw the pink flushing her cheeks. “He’s so good to me and Megan,” Anika said. “We’ll be at the potluck. I’ll look for you.”
Britta was about to say she wouldn’t be there, but the phone started ringing.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Anika said as she picked up the phone. “It’s a great day to shop at Kenworth’s. How may I help you?”
Britta waved and left the department store, clutching her bag. She thought about Milo’s invitation and pursed her lips. Britta wanted to go to the potluck with Milo, but she couldn’t. Despite what Anika had said, some choices were made on principle.
FAY’S CAFÉ WAS A GUILTY PLEASURE that Britta indulged in at least once a week. She brown-bagged her lunch most days, but the weekend hadn’t been restful at all— no time to prepare anything more than a granola bar and yogurt. It was nearly three o’clock before Britta had time to stop for a break. Her meager lunch wasn’t very appetizing. Lila’s lemon crème chocolates called to her from the white paper sack, but she resisted and tucked it deeper into her purse. The morning had left her strung out and wondering how she would get through the next couple weeks. She needed some medicine in the form of Fay’s famous cinnamon rolls.
The atmosphere in Fay’s Café always made Britta wish she could hang out and read her favorite book. Fay was in her twenties and was an incredibly talented artist. Every wall of the café was decorated with pen-and-ink sketches of fifties scenes with black frames. It added to the black-and-white décor of the café with its retro black Naugahyde booths.
“Hey Britta, gearing up for the Harvest Hurrah?” Fay asked cheerfully when Britta approached the counter. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, leaving some of the pink streaks visible, and when she moved, her abundant jewelry shimmered in the light. Britta smiled at Fay’s unique style— it suited her.
“You know it. Thanks for the delicious cookies you made. When Armand canceled, I think sugar is the only thing that saved some of those ladies.”
Fay wiped the counter and chuckled. “Glad it helped. I’m planning to make more for the real party.”
“Is it terrible to say that I can’t wait until it’s all over?”
“No, I’d have to agree— but if I did, then I’d hear my grandma saying, ‘Fay, don’t wish your life away. Enjoy the moments you have while they’re here.’”
Britta pondered that for a moment, letting the sentiment sink in. “I think your grandma was a very wise woman. Thanks for the perspective.”
“Speaking of perspective, have you tried the homemade apple pie I’m prepping for the Harvest Hurrah?”
“I haven’t. How about you add a slice to my regular order of your perfect chocolate chip cookies? And I’ll have the chicken Malibu special.”
“Sure thing.”
Britta sat at one of the silver-edged tables and scrolled through a few emails while she waited for her lunch. Her stomach grumbled, and she looked up just as Fay placed a delicious tray of food in front of her. “Enjoy.”
“I always do,” Britta said.
She took a bite of her chicken sandwich and eyed the dessert sack next to her tray. The white bag with her favorite treat crinkled when she reached inside. The bite of chewy, chocolatey cookie was worth every calorie, and since she was walking back, maybe she could justify trying some of Fay’s apple pie.
Britta greeted a few of the local patrons and smiled at the obvious tourists as she ate her lunch. Her mind wandered to the “Milo situation,” as she had labeled her obvious attraction to the neighborly German with a dimpled smile and blue eyes that hinted at moonlight kisses and all sorts of romantic nonsense that Britta read in books.
Just thinking his name made her stomach lift like she was on a roller coaster ride at the amusement park. Her body betrayed her every time he was near. What was wrong with her and all her carefully constructed plans for the future? Britta put a hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. No more roller coaster rides. She chewed through her lunch quickly, thinking about the rest of the work she needed to do.
On the way out the door, she waved at Fay, and the action reminded her of Fay’s advice. Britta decided to take a moment to enjoy her surroundings as she walked back to the library. Her pace was more relaxed, and it was easier to smile despite the long to-do list that kept nudging her brain.
The autumn breeze tickled her ear, and she tucked a strand of hair away from her face. A leaf crunched under her feet and she kicked at a small pile on the edge of the grass. The wind grabbed a few and they skittered down the sidewalk. Britta stooped to examine the veins of the red-and-orange maple leaf. She loved how they spread out and connected at fine points on the curled edges of the leaf. She picked up a leaf and twirled it in her fingertips.
A car slowed next to her. She looked over to see who it was, and the breath caught in her lungs. Milo put his car in park and hopped out.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, concern scrunching his eyebrows together.
Britta laughed. “Sure, I’m just enjoying a piece of autumn here.”
Milo leaned toward her, examining the leaf in her hand. “That’s a great specimen. The maples around here are beautiful.”
Britta nodded and tried not to let her insides go mushy when Milo looked at her.
“I checked at a few used bookshops, but none of them had Little Women,” Milo said.
Britta’s heart warmed at the thought of Milo, his broad shoulders hunched over shelves, searching for a book he had no interest in. “Did you try looking online?”
“Yes, and there are several copies, but I thought I’d be able to find a copy with a bit more character to it, you know?” Milo shrugged. “I guess it probably doesn’t matter if it’s new or old.”
“Actually, I’ve run into the same problem with The Book Thief, because Marian wanted a hardback. I could buy one brand new,” Britta replied, “but I do like books with character.”
She smiled, and when Milo smiled back, her heart tripped over itself. That dimple in his cheek undid her every time. And he was taking Marian’s challenge seriously. Britta wondered if it was mostly for her, if he was trying to impress her, but then she decided she didn’t care because she was already impressed that he’d spent time looking for his assigned book.
“There are a few used book sites online. One of my favorites is thriftbooks.com,” Britta said. “You can create a wish list and they’ll alert you when they find a copy.”
“I’ll try that next,” Milo said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pen handy that you could jot that down for me, would you? I’m afraid I’ll forget.”
“Sure, I should have something in this purse to write on.” Britta dug through her purse, her fingers grazing the bag of lemon crèmes from earlier. She couldn’t find any paper, so finally she ripped off a strip of the bag and wrote the website down.
When she handed it to Milo, he sniffed. “Do I smell lemon crème chocolates?”
Britta paused. Was he teasing? No, there was no way he could have known the chocolates were in her purse. “What are you, a bloodhound?”
Milo laughed. “I love lemon.” He held the slip of paper up to his nose and closed his eyes. “This paper smells like The Candy Counter.”
“Probably because that’s where it came from.”
“Oh, you like their chocolates too? What’s your favorite?”
The way Milo’s grin widened, making the skin around his eyes crinkle, made Britta want to smile and give him all of her chocolates, but she couldn’t do that. They were for Lila. “I’m partial to mint, but lemon is a close second.”
“Mint and lemon go great together.” There seemed to be an unspoken ending to Milo’s sentence.
Britta stared at Milo for a moment, his blue eyes alight with a bit of mischief. She pulled the paper sack out of her purse. “I don’t suppose you’d want to share
some of these lemon crèmes with me?”
“So I was right, you do have lemon crèmes?”
Britta nodded and opened the bag, wafting the sugary sweet smell in front of him. “It’s the least I could do to thank you for saving the night at the library. Everyone’s thrilled with the volunteer base we have now.”
Milo beamed and reached into the sack. He gingerly pulled out a chocolate and popped it into his mouth.
He closed his eyes, and Britta giggled. “It’s nice to see a man who appreciates his chocolate.”
“You’d better take one before the Geissler gene takes over. My family fights for chocolate.”
Britta took a bite of her chocolate, her mouth flooding with the creamy lemon flavor. “Mmm, I should buy chocolates for my niece more often.”
“Your niece? But I thought they were for me.” Milo stepped closer and peered into the sack, where two chocolates remained.
“Well that’s the great thing about the candy counter.” Britta carefully folded the top of the sack and handed it to Milo. “I can always get more.”
“Are you sure?”
Britta nodded.
“I think I’m going to come to the library more often and rescue the damsel in distress.”
“I guess I’d better buy more chocolate.” A tiny voice in Britta’s mind pointed out that she was flirting with Milo, but she didn’t care. The chocolate was shooting off all kinds of feel-good neurons, and Milo’s scent mixed with autumn and lemon crèmes was irresistible.
Milo glanced at the sack of chocolates and then back to her. “Have you thought any more about coming to the potluck with me on Sunday?”
Here it was: the moment Britta knew would arrive. And because she was sharing chocolate and flirting, it had happened sooner than she thought. She was unprepared. Britta swallowed and opened her mouth to give him her practiced answer, but her voice wouldn’t work. She thought about what Anika had said, and how Milo had helped her through more than one rough spot in the past week. “I would love to.” She clamped her mouth shut right after she said the words, hardly believing that they had come from her.
If Milo was surprised, he hid it well with a broad grin. “I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.” He lifted the bag of candy in a wave and headed back to his car, probably worried that if he stuck around she’d change her mind.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” Britta didn’t even know what she would bring, because for some reason her heart had just decided to hijack her brain, and all of her carefully scheduled plans were in ruins.
MILO ALMOST MISSED HIS appointment Tuesday morning to tune Suzy Gibson’s piano, because everywhere he looked he saw something that made him think of Britta. She had finally said yes. It was a small yes, but Britta was coming to the potluck with him on Sunday. He’d already picked out a dark green blazer that he’d wear with a dress shirt and blue-and-green tie. Last night he couldn’t sleep, so he’d got out of bed and shined his shoes. He’d tried for months to get Britta to consider him as a man who was truly interested in her— one that didn’t need prodding from anyone to recognize her beauty.
If only her mother hadn’t called him that day. Milo already knew who Britta was and was waiting for the chance to introduce himself and ask her out. That was his problem: he always waited when he should leap and grab the opportunity before him.
The Gibson’s Tudor-style home looked festive, with a red-and-orange leaf garland sweeping across the porch. Milo had seen Suzy’s granddaughter, Elise Gibson, decorating the home at different times during the year. He had taken her out on a date once, but there wasn’t a spark. Thankfully, Elise could see that too, so at the end of the date she’d said, “Milo, let’s be friends. And I really mean friends.”
Milo had laughed and agreed to the idea. It had been a good move, because he’d been able to ask Elise for advice about Britta.
Today Elise was setting up dozens of little pumpkins and gourds on wooden crates near the front door. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands falling around her face. She put tin lanterns in the center of the display and tied different colored ribbons on the handles.
“It looks like the Harvest Hurrah over here,” Milo said as he approached the steps.
Elise turned and smiled. “Good morning to you, too. Any new developments with the library?”
Milo grinned. “She finally said yes.”
Elise jumped down the stairs, stopping just short of hugging Milo. “You’re taking her on a date?”
“To the potluck on Sunday. I know it’s not technically a date, but it was the best I could do for now.”
“You’ve opened the door.” Elise looked him in the eye. “Now’s your chance. Stop by the library today at the end of her shift and ask her out. You’ve broken down her defenses. If she said yes to the potluck, she won’t say no to a date before then.”
“I don’t know. I asked her twice just to get her to agree for Sunday. I don’t want her to change her mind.”
Elise put a hand on her hip. “Milo, don’t be such a chicken. She likes you.”
“I’m no chicken. She’s going with me to the potluck.” Milo felt like he was talking to one of his brothers. “Besides, I don’t know if she really does like me, or if she was planning on going anyway and didn’t want me to feel awkward.”
“That’s no way to look at it.” Elise shook her head and pulled a piece of orange ribbon through her fingertips. “And I’ll tell you something. Britta likes you, but she doesn’t want to like you.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve watched her. She walks around like she has a force field.” Elise swept her arms out in an arc. “She’s afraid to let you in, but she’s thinking hard about you.”
Milo smiled. “I hope you’re right.”
Elise slugged him playfully. “You know I’m right. Ask her out tonight. It doesn’t have to be something big. Just knock down a few bricks from her Berlin Wall.”
Elise’s metaphor was meant to be playful, but Milo thought about Britta’s Berlin Wall for the rest of the day. He had noticed that Britta didn’t seem excited when he talked about his German heritage; she almost seemed mournful. He wondered if there was something about her past that she was projecting onto him.
She reminded him of an old Steinway grand piano he’d worked on for a community theater project. Many of the people involved thought they should just bring in a different piano for the show, because the piano had been damaged over the years and had problems holding the fine tone Steinways were known for. Milo had been insistent if given enough time and attention, he could get the piano ready for performances. Despite skepticism, he had spent several hours over the course of two weeks fine-tuning that piano. Each time he thought he had everything perfect, he’d return a couple days later to find something else that needed fixing— the high E string vibrating incorrectly, or that pesky low G key sticking again.
The first time he’d expressed interest in Britta, Elise had scoffed at him, telling him he’d have more fun reading War and Peace. Milo had insisted that there was something about Britta he couldn’t ignore, and he had thought of that piano. He returned to tune it each year, and the music it created was exquisite. Hidden under dents, scratches, and chipped keys was a quality of music that brought out the magic in each performance.
It was time to be bold. There was a song waiting to escape from Britta’s soul, and Milo wanted to hear it. He had seen a flicker of appreciation in Britta’s eyes, and that was all the encouragement he needed to take the next step.
BRITTA LOOKED AT HER TO-DO list and made herself work harder to check something off every time she thought of Milo. For a Tuesday, it was impressive how much she was able to accomplish. Maybe Milo wasn’t so bad after all. Only one urgent thing left: order a copy of The Book Thief. Every time Britta went to open her Amazon account and order, she was interrupted. Marian had reported that thirty-six books had already been collected for her classics list. Britta took the pointed reminder
in stride and continued working. It was already five and she’d put in a long day, arriving at the library two hours before it opened. The book could wait one more day.
Britta stood and stretched, waiting for her computer to shut down. She caught a glimpse of a handsome blond man coming toward her office. Milo caught her eyes and smiled, and a zing of energy rose up her spine.
She should’ve kept her office door closed.
Too much stress was making her weak. She had seen him almost every day since last Thursday, and every day he looked better. The dimple in his cheek was endearing, and it was easy to see because Milo smiled all the time. Even when she had rebuffed his efforts to get to know her, he’d continued smiling, and now he’d somehow roped her into going to the Sunday potluck. But no more. She needed to focus on her principles.
She pressed her lips firmly together, determined to avoid Milo. He must have had a different agenda, because he poked his head in the office and smiled.
“Hey, I was hoping I could catch you. Marian seems pretty intense about this classic book drive, and I’m afraid I’m going to be in trouble.”
Britta tilted her head, taking in Milo’s white-and-blue plaid shirt and dark brown corduroy pants. She wouldn’t describe him as preppy; he pulled off a look that was always a step above casual, but not quite dressy. Comfortable. That was probably the right word. Milo appeared to be comfortable in his clothes, likely because he was comfortable with himself. Britta thought about that, being comfortable with who she was. She squirmed in her chair under Milo’s gaze. “Wish I could help you there, but I’m headed for trouble myself.”
Milo stepped inside the office and let the door close behind him. “I ordered the book, but it won’t be here for another week,” Milo said. “It’s coming from the west coast.”
Every nerve in Britta’s body was firing as Milo stepped closer to her. She was still on the other side of her desk, but his presence filled the room. His smell tickled her nose with a rich scent reminiscent of forest woods that made her think of music rushing through the trees. “I’m sure that will be fine,” Britta replied, rubbing her arms to settle her nerves. “I know Marian gave everyone strict deadlines, but she’ll just have to be flexible if she wants her classics section.”
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 5
