by Jenni Moen
I flipped open to the first chapter and dug right in. The heroine had arrived on the island too waterlogged by her own tears to make good decisions and immediately commenced to drowning her sorrows at the bar—something I could entirely relate to. The hero wasted no time swooping in to rescue her from her own misery.
Perfect.
I pictured Scott and myself as the main characters. I swapped her broken heart for my own. Was it weird? I didn’t care. It was my fantasy, and I didn't have to justify it to anyone.
By the time I looked up again, more than an hour had passed and Ryder had yet to come find me. Even though the book had me hooked, I gathered up my things and made my way to the front of the store to pay for it. When I was done there, I would check on my dinner dates or maybe just sneak out and go home. A date with a hot book sounded better than suffering through dinner with two gooey new lovers and a bunch of prying eyes.
As I approached the counter, a man leaned over it, talking to a salesgirl. I couldn't see his face, but I immediately recognized the voice.
"But why would anyone want to read a screenplay?" he asked. "That is my question. I'm trying to understand."
The salesgirl rolled her eyes, annoyance written all over a face I generally knew to be pleasant. "As I said before, sir, I don't know. Our customers don't usually share their motivations for their purchases with us."
"So you do have customers who buy them?" His voice held an ah-ha tone, as if he'd finally tripped her up.
"We have one. She special orders them because, as I said, we don't keep them in stock." Her words were clipped.
"But aren't you curious? It seems like an odd purchase to me, but then again, I'm not a reader, so what do I know?"
I smiled. I couldn't help myself.
"Not really. I've never thought to ask. Besides, she usually places her orders over the phone and then sends a courier to get them when they come in."
His entire body went rigid.
"A courier, you say?” He leaned a little farther over the desk. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to share her name with me?"
The salesgirl looked over his shoulder and met my gaze. I shook my head but grinned so she wouldn't think she was in trouble. She hadn't said anything that wasn't true.
"I don't think she would appreciate it if I did," she said.
He must have caught the change in her face because he turned abruptly. I nearly laughed out loud at his wide-eyed expression. "Bookworm," he said under his breath.
"Doing research, Statistics Man?"
I hoped I was doing a better job of hiding my emotions than he was. He didn't need to know my heart was hammering in my chest or that my hands were suddenly clammy.
"Just doing a little research on different types of women and the reading materials they choose. Highly scientific stuff."
"Uh-huh."
He shifted uneasily and then flashed a contrite smile. "I guess I'm busted."
"Looks like it." I tucked the book I’d been reading against my leg.
Of all the bookstores in the area, what were the chances? How was it possible he'd just happened to wander into mine? Highland Park was nowhere close to Evanston. He would have passed ten bookstores to get to this one. I'd been so careful not to tell him anything about myself. Yet here he was, asking about me.
“Well, I should be upset that I just killed my chances of you accepting my offer, but to be honest, I’m a bit upset with you for leaving me high and dry the other night.” His tone was playful, but his gaze was keen. “Want to explain that?”
It felt like I might not pass this test if I wasn’t careful.
“I don’t know if I should. My serial killer radar is going off like mad right now." We both watched each other with measured suspicion.
"Would you believe me if I said I came in here for something else, and this is purely a coincidence?" he asked.
"Well, since I know what an avid reader you are …" My sarcasm earned me a laugh. It was deep and warm and melted over me like butter.
On the train, that laugh had coaxed me out of my usually impenetrable shell. Hearing it again made me want to take his hand and lead him to the cozy corner I'd found in the back of the store and spend the rest of the night making him laugh.
If he wasn't a stalker who followed you here, my common sense interjected.
There was that rather glaring problem. But the trouble he would’ve had to go to to find me when I’d given him virtually nothing to go on—the idea of it was both frightening and delicious. Unless he’d known all along who I was. It certainly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
"Ryder Nichols is here," he said as if that was the only explanation needed.
"Yes."
"I was walking by outside and saw the banner for the signing. I came in on a whim." He held up a copy of Ryder's autobiography. "Look! I bought a book."
"Good for you. You should read it," I suggested. "He's a funny guy."
I immediately regretted the suggestion. There would be stories about Chase in it. I hadn't cracked open my copy yet, but Natasha had confirmed there were stories about me. We'd been through a lot, the three of us, and I felt about those stories the way Ryder felt about my house. I wasn't ready to go there and didn’t want anyone else to either. Least of all the man I’d been thinking about for two days.
I reminded myself there was still a chance he didn't know my name.
"Ready to go, Celeste? I'm starving."
I cringed and turned to glare at Ryder.
Scott's eyes were wide again. He looked from Ryder to me. "You know Ryder Nichols?" His expression fell. Awe turned to disappointment. "That's why you were at the game Friday night."
I melted some more. "Ryder and I are just friends."
Idiot. You should have let him believe you were together. I was letting those big, beautiful blue eyes get to me again.
Ever protective, Ryder's arm came around my shoulders. "More like family." He stuck out his other hand to shake Scott's. "Ryder Nichols. And you are?"
"Scott Russell."
"You look familiar."
"You signed my book." He held it up with considerably less enthusiasm than he had before.
"Hey, yeah. Thanks for coming tonight."
"I was looking for somewhere to eat and saw the sign outside," Scott said again, more to me than to Ryder.
"Oh, I remember you," Ryder said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You bought the book for your nephew."
Scott nodded. "His birthday is coming up, and he's a huge fan. I mean, I am too, of course—of yours and Chase Reid's. You guys were quite the team."
My back went ramrod straight. Ryder tensed against me. From the corner of my eye, I could feel him watching me.
Scott held the book up again. "This is going to put me in the lead for the best uncle award. It's a highly contested and prestigious position. Competition is fierce in my family."
Ryder relaxed against me and laughed. "That's great, man. I wish I had something better to give you for him. You're a friend of Celeste's? Maybe I can send you something."
"We only met after the game Friday night. But, oh man, that would be great. I'd be a shoo-in for the win, then."
Ryder spun on me. "You came to a game? Why didn't you tell me? I would have set you up with my seats."
I shook my head. Ryder's seats were right next to my old ones. The thought of someone else sitting in them made my eyes begin to water.
"Ahhh, shit. I'm sorry," Ryder said, noting my flushed face and wet eyes. "It was your first time back, wasn't it?"
"It's okay. I made it to the top of the seventh." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You know, I think I'm going to pass on dinner." I was going have a breakdown in front of them if I didn't excuse myself.
"No way," Ryder said adamantly. "We're doing this. Who knows when I'll get you out of the house again, and you promised me a steak. "
"But—"
Ryder began backing away. "Nope. Not hearing it."
I put a hand out to stop him. "One condition no steak. We can go to Alfonso's."
He looked like he might argue with me but then thought better of it. "If that's what you want. Meet you at the front door in a few minutes." Ryder took a few more steps and then turned back to us, his eyes focused on Scott. "You were looking for somewhere to eat? Why don't you join us?"
I looked at him incredulously. The four of us at a table? If people weren't talking about me already, they surely would be now.
"That would be great," Scott said.
I started to argue but was momentarily blinded by his bright smile and the two dimples that had made a reappearance. "Ahhhh—" was all I managed to get out before Ryder interrupted me.
"Awesome. We'll meet you guys at the front in a few minutes," he said before finally walking away.
I swallowed. "I just need to take care of something first," I said stiffly and then stepped to the cashier's desk to pay for the paperback in my hand, careful to slide it across the counter facedown. As I spoke with the salesgirl about another special order, I could feel Scott's watchful gaze on me.
She rang up my purchases while I dug through my purse, looking for my wallet. By the time I found it, she'd already bagged the romance novel and Scott was signing the receipt.
I stared at him like an idiot. "You can't pay for my books."
"I sure can. That's what you do on a date.” His eyes narrowed. “By chance, did you make any other big purchases this weekend I need to cover?"
I raised an eyebrow at the odd question. "Not unless you want to see my grocery receipt."
He studied me for a second and then his gaze softened. "I bet I could learn a lot about you from that. It would probably be worth whatever it cost me."
"You're impossible, you know that?"
He chuckled and grabbed the bag from the counter. I reached for it, and he shook his head. "A true gentleman carries your bags, too. Especially on the first date."
"This is not a date," I hissed, looking around to see if the salesgirl or anyone else had heard him.
"In case you missed it, we're going to dinner. Three is an awkward number, but a little stiff competition never hurt anyone. Project Fall for Scott commences now."
Dumbfounded, I met his eyes. "He's just a friend," I said. "And he's bringing his new girlfriend."
"Perfect. Then it's a double date.”
He reached for my arm, wrapped his fingers around it, and ushered us to the front of the store. Instinctively, I knew I should pull away from him and the fire he’d just ignited beneath my skin, but it seemed his touch had caused some kind of nerve damage or temporary paralysis. For the life of me, I couldn't muster the strength to pull away. It might have also had something to do with the way he was gripping me. I had the odd sense he’d just taken me into custody.
When we got to the front of the store, Ryder was still busy, signing some balls and jerseys for the store manager's son. Scott leaned against the wall next to the front door, and I stood awkwardly beside him.
His eyes narrowed on me. "We need to talk about the other night," he said, breaking the silence.
I nodded slowly, unsure of how or whether to respond. "Thanks for the save. You’re a regular modern day superhero,” I said, hoping my response would satisfy him.
He continued to stare at me for a few long seconds and then cocked his head. "Don't you want to know how he is?"
"Of course.”
"He's out of critical care now. The doctors say he'll be fine, but it's likely he'll have memory problems."
I thought I detected a bit of remorse in his tone. Was it because he was sorry he’d saved me? Sorry how it had turned out? I wanted to ask, but anything I might say would give away that my own memory of what had happened was fuzzy.
"That's awful. I hate to hear that.” I reached out and touched his arm. "I'm really glad you were there, Scott, but can we not talk about it?"
His forehead wrinkled in concern. "Are you having a hard time with it? If you are, that's completely normal, but it might actually help you to talk about it."
I shifted on my feet and then attempted to distract him. "I'd just hate to ruin our first date."
Even though he hesitated to smile, when it finally spread across his face, I nearly sighed from relief.
It was a terrible idea for so many reasons. For one, Ryder talked too much. He'd already unknowingly given Scott my first name. If we spent the evening together, Chase would inevitably become a topic of conversation. Again. And that wasn't even the worst possibility for the evening, though I didn't really think Ryder wanted to talk about it any more than I did.
What would Scott’s reaction be if he knew? Would it change the way he looked at me? It did for everyone else. I’d grown accustomed to the pitiful stares, the stumbling condolences, even the unspoken accusations of strangers, but for some reason, the idea of Scott treating me that way bothered me. If he found out the truth, I wouldn't be turning down his offer. He would rescind it.
I looked up to find Scott watching me so intently I was sure he'd just heard every thought that had gone through my head.
"One date," I conceded. "Dinner tonight. But that's all I'm promising."
He nodded, his eyes still shrewd. "I’m sorry if you feel like we pushed this on you. I got caught up in the moment, and I couldn't say no to an offer like that."
"What? Dinner with the greatest arm in baseball?" I said with sarcasm.
"No. Dinner with you."
My cheeks warmed. My heart stumbled over a beat. "You're very smooth, Scott."
He took a step closer to me. "And you give me every reason to try to be, Celeste."
A few long moments of silence passed. "How old is your nephew?" I asked, trying to change the subject again. I could pretend that the idea of him walking into the store for the sole purpose of getting a book signed for his nephew hadn't turned me to mush, but it would be a big fat lie.
"He's eleven."
"So you have a brother or a sister?"
"Both. My brother doesn't have any kids. That we know of, anyway. My sister has four."
"Whoa. I bet that keeps her busy."
"It does, and let me tell you, she loves to tell anyone who'll listen all about it."
"If I had four kids, I'd need to talk about it, too," I said, laughing. "And drink a lot of wine."
"No doubt."
I dug through my bag, looking for a mint. The rustle of another bag got my attention. I'd completely forgotten he was still carrying my book. "No," I said, lunging for it.
Surprised, he pulled it away from me. "Geez. What did I buy?"
"Nothing," I said too quickly. "Just a novel."
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at me. His lips pulled into a mischievous smile.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
The master of observation chuckled at my expression. "It's a dirty one, isn't it?" Despite my squeaky protests, he pulled out the novel. "Week with a Stranger. Will one week in paradise with a sexy billionaire be enough?" he read from the cover.
Loud and unnerving, his laughter filled the whole store.
I prayed for a swift death. A meteor crashing through the ceiling would work. A runaway bus through the front window would be fine. Anything to take me totally and completely out.
And maybe him too.
I'd be okay with it, considering his complete disregard for my humiliation. Luckily, the store was mostly empty, but it didn't do much to lessen the agony of the situation since it was his opinion I was most worried about.
And why is that? I asked myself. What difference did it make if he knew I was reading a book that casually mirrored what he’d offered?
It didn't. It made no difference at all. It wasn't as if I was ever going to see him again after tonight.
Right? Right.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you? Wondering what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and spend a week with me." His lips curled into a playful smile.
"I am not. Give
it to me," I said as I grabbed it out of his hands.
I stuffed the book into my purse without looking at it. I was so completely embarrassed I would have pitched it in the trash if that wouldn't have made even more of a scene.
"Don’t be embarrassed. I like knowing you’ve been thinking about it.”
"Thinking about what?" Ryder asked, strolling up with Natasha tucked into his side.
With a teasing smirk, Scott answered for me, "A tall glass of wine, I think."
Wrong.
I was ready for a bottle.
HIM
Celeste's plate was empty, and her third glass of wine was history before she finally excused herself to go to the bathroom, and I got my break. As if she'd read my mind, Natasha stood and followed her, leaving me alone with Ryder. It was an opportunity I wouldn't squander.
Honestly, I still couldn't believe my good luck. Running into her at the bookstore was almost too good to be true, but unfortunately, I’d learned very little about her during dinner. Even though I’d hung on to every word she uttered, looking for some insight into the mysterious woman next to me, the effort hadn't earned me much. She remained guarded and talked very little about herself, seemingly content to let everyone else dominate the conversation. With everything that had been happening to me, I should’ve been more wary. Instead, I was intrigued. Occasionally, I'd catch her looking around the room, and her eyebrows would furrow. She was worried about something, and I sensed Ryder knew.
Before I had a chance to grill him, he flipped the tables on me. "So you met Celeste at the game?” he asked as soon as the women were out of earshot. “Frankly, I'm surprised she talked to you."
"Why? Because I'm not her type?" I answered, only mildly offended by his honesty.
