‘You are kidding me.’ She choked the words out, barely hearing them through the blood roaring in her eyes and the now-jackhammering of her heart. ‘That’s. Ah…’ Breath whooshed from her as she rubbed her heart.
‘Now’s not a good time to have a heart attack on me, Soph. Not when you’re looking at something that could change your business. Your life, even.’
Sophie trailed her fingers over the embossed gold script. ‘Do you think people would buy them?’
‘I do. There’s quite a market for them.’ Alexander picked another book and began swiping and tapping at his phone. ‘Your father must have had a real knack for it. This one’s worth nearly as much as the last.’
Snippets of her parents’ heated argument played through her mind. Guilt at what Alexander was suggesting, what she was contemplating, coiled tight in her heart. ‘Dad didn’t want to sell them though. Mum wanted him to. The business was struggling and she saw them as a lifesaver. Dad was against it. They were his hobby, his passion.’
‘And what are they to you?’ Alexander set his phone down and folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘Are they your passion? Your hobby? Or could this be the lifesaver you need?’
‘Maybe.’ Indecision twisted and twirled within her. Would selling off her father’s beloved books in order to secure the shop’s future be a betrayal of his memory? Or would it honour all the hard work they’d put into starting All Booked Up? ‘What would you do if you were me?’
Alexander took the book out of her hands and placed it back in the box, then bum-shuffled towards her until their knees were touching. Their faces inches apart. So close she noticed flecks of emerald in his forest-green eyes. Shards of colour she could stare into forever. Eyes that reflected the excitement, the triumph she should have felt at finding a way out of her financial troubles.
‘If I were you, I would do what was right by the here and now. You can’t change the past, but you can embrace the future. You love your shop, Sophie. Abundantly so. Can you tell me risking losing everything you’ve worked for is worth keeping a bunch of books stored away in a loft for memory’s sake?’
Alexander reached for her hands, but Sophie pulled them away before he touched her, and tucked them under her thighs.
He was being so sweet, so nice, so… confusing. He should have been telling her to keep the books, hoping that her money problems would worsen and she’d have to sell or, worse, be forced to by the council.
‘Why are you doing this? Being supportive, encouraging me to make my business a success, when it would be your interest to do otherwise. If I kept them, if the online shop failed, I’d be forced to sell. You wouldn’t have to build round me. You’d get the resort you designed.’ She hated how distrustful she sounded, but experience had taught her that if someone seemed too good to be true, they probably were.
Alexander tugged one of her hands out from its hidey hole and held it, his thumb drifting over her skin, sending a sprinkling of goose bumps up her arm.
‘Because I care. Despite knowing I shouldn’t. Knowing that it would be far better for me to keep my distance. Far safer.’
Sophie swallowed hard and tried to get her racing thoughts in check. This wasn’t just any conversation. It was a precipice. One she should back away from. Yet some reckless part of her wanted to fall head first. To not back away as she’d done the previous day. To push forward, through her barrier, to risk embarrassment and uncertainty, just to know – one hundred per cent – that what she suspected was happening between her and Alexander wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. To know that she could trust her instincts.
That this man could be trusted. That he would not hurt her.
She released her other hand from under her thigh and placed it around Alexander’s. ‘Safer? To keep your distance from me?’
‘You heard me.’
His irises darkened as she brought his hands to her lips. Pressed a kiss on them. She waited for Alexander to push her away, to tell her she’d read things wrong. That the only thing between them was a business relationship that hinted at friendship. No more. No less.
‘Remember when I offered to help you? It was partly because I’d hoped I could convince you to sell, an idea I quickly gave up on when I saw how determined you were to save your business, to reinvigorate your home.’
‘You made a wise decision.’ Sophie peppered kisses on each of his knuckles. ‘You said partly. What was the other part?’
Alexander’s chest lifted and his lips parted, like he was trying to figure out how to say what need to be said kindly, in a way that wouldn’t hurt.
She braced herself for the gentle rejection.
‘This was.’
One deft move saw Alexander’s hand disentangle from hers. A cool hand cupped her hot cheek.
Friends didn’t cup cheeks, not like this, not with desire in the eyes, and lips that moved closer with every passing second.
‘Soph—‘
Sophie shook her head in a small but definite no, silently shushing him. Words might ruin the magic, break the spell that had her head dizzy and her heart delighted.
The corners of Alexander’s lips lifted, mirroring her own.
Was it possible to kiss through a smile? Through a light laugh?
Before she could ponder it further, his lips, soft and strong, met hers. Feather-light, touching, brushing… tempting.
Sophie curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought him closer. His lips parted, allowed her to taste him as he tasted her. Hints of coffee and the acid from the champagne combined with a slight saltiness that had her wanting more. Needing more.
Without breaking apart they uncrossed their legs and rose up on their knees, their bodies pressing together. Sophie ran her hand down Alexander’s chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath his navy T-shirt. She slipped her hand under the soft material, her fingers dancing along the hard ridges of his stomach.
Alexander’s hand tangled in her hair as he kissed his way down the length of her neck.
She melted against him. His arm circled her waist, holding her upright while he discovered her. Devoured her.
The tingle of door chimes broke the soft sighs and low moans that filled the lounge.
‘Hello? Sophie? Ginny said you were up here?’ The unmistakeable thud of footsteps on timber stairs followed.
Through half-closed eyes Sophie found Alexander’s lips, kissed them once. Twice. Again, for good measure, then pushed herself up into a standing position and quickly ran her hand through her hair, smoothing it where Alexander’s hands had mussed it up.
She fixed an innocent, open smile to her face and ran to the door just as Natalie was about to open it. ‘Hey, Nat. How are you?’
‘Good. Just checking in. Thought I’d make sure the website’s going as it should. Ginny mentioned you’d had your first sale.’ Natalie’s brows drew together as she side-stepped around Sophie and made her way into the lounge.
Busted. Even if Natalie hadn’t walked in on them kissing, Sophie was sure she’d sense the wired atmosphere. Her every nerve-ending crackled with energy. If a battery needed charging Sophie was sure she could power it up using the intensity that coursed through her.
She went to explain Alexander’s presence, to try and distract Natalie from the event that – at least in her mind – was so clearly obvious, but Alexander had beaten her to it and was showing her the books they’d found in the loft.
‘You never told me your father was a book collector, Sophie.’ Natalie’s tone was calm, but whenever she wasn’t talking her lips would bunch up, like she was trying to stop herself from laughing, or squealing. Both.
She shut the door and went to sit beside Natalie, keeping her distance from Alexander, lest she lost herself in his scent, in his manliness, in his thereness and threw herself at him, embarrassing all of them.
‘It wasn’t something I’d thought about.’ More like it was something she’d kept to herself. Another memory of her family that she clut
ched tight.
Until Alexander came along.
She observed the books with new eyes. She’d kept them for so long because her father had been attached to them. Because, even though she’d not looked at them once, they held a place in her heart. A connection to a man she’d barely had the chance to get to know. Yet had his attachment been to his family and their livelihood, maybe he and her mother would be here today. Perhaps moving them on would be a way to move on from the past. To breathe life into her future.
Any residual guilt at the thought of selling them disappeared. These books would revitalise the business. Give it the fighting chance her mother had pleaded for.
‘Er, Sophie?’ Alexander got to his feet. ‘I’ve got some work to do back at the B&B. So I’ll be going.’
‘Sure, I’ll walk you out.’ She turned to Natalie who was picking through the books. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Nat.’
She followed Alexander down the stairs. Sparks of happiness zipped about her heart when he reached behind and took her hand in his, holding it all the way to the front door.
‘Thank you for an unexpected, but wonderful, morning.’ Alexander dropped a kiss on her nose, then her forehead, then on her lips. Less intense than the ones he’d showered upon her upstairs, but no less moreish. ‘Those books are quite a find.’
‘I know. Who’d have thought a martini-loving spy with an eye for the ladies could be worth so much?’ She smiled up at him as she ran a finger down the length of his jaw, loving the way his stubble prickled.
Amusement deepened the lines around his eyes. ‘Worth so much, hey? Is that your way of saying that because I pulled the books down and brought them to your attention that I might be worth a little something to you?’
Sophie paused as fear flared in her heart. Warned her against falling too hard. Against losing herself in a man who would one day soon leave, leaving her wanting more. She squeezed the fear away. She’d lived her life too carefully for too long. No longer. It was time to rebuild her shop, and her life.
‘Yes, it is, and I mean it with all my heart.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alexander resisted the urge to literally skip down the street, or to flick his legs up in a high side-kick.
He settled for walking with a bounce in his step, only stopping when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, afraid it would be his father pressing for his return to the office, as he had in every phone call and message the past two days. Each insistence heightening the burgeoning dread that had formed in Alexander’s gut, in his heart, at the through of leaving Herring Cove. Of leaving Sophie.
See you at the market X
Alexander smiled, his lips stretching as wide as they could go.
Since that moment at the beach where he’d been seconds away from kissing Sophie, his imagination had been in overdrive. Her petite, yet perfectly shaped lips had floated through his mind more than once, and he’d wondered if her kisses would be as strong as she was. As determined. As soft and sweet.
His imagination had let him down.
Sophie’s kisses were more passionate, more demanding, more than anything he could’ve hoped for. Or dreamed about. Her lips had seared, branded. As unforgettable as they’d been unexpected.
‘Alex, what are you doing with that big grin on your face? You look like a bloke who’s been up to something… and I’d like to know what that something is.’
Alexander followed the buoyant voice and saw the local publican, Rob, who he’d gotten to know a little over the course of his stay, waving him over from one of the pub’s windows, open wide to embrace the beautiful day.
A reggae tune floated on the summer’s air, along with waves of laughter and happy chatter from the customers inside the pub.
Before he had the chance to make a conscious decision, he found himself crossing the road towards Rob.
‘Beautiful day for it.’ Alexander propped his elbows up on the windowsill and breathed in the scent of hops and cooking oil, underpinned by cleaning products.
Nowhere near as heady as Sophie’s violet and vanilla scent, but it held its own charm, especially on a day like today where the birds’ chirps seemed filled with more joy than usual, the sun brighter, the breeze warmer.
‘Beautiful day for what is what I’ll like to know.’ Rob winked. ‘And what are you doing loitering about like that? Come in. I’ll grab you your usual and we can have a natter.’
Emails that needed replying to, phone calls to return, the vow to head home to the office, all tugged at his conscience. Bugger it. Soon as he was back home his life would be restored to its all-work and no-play grind. What would one harmless lunchtime beer matter in the grand scheme of things?
‘Why not? It’s not like I’ve anything better to do.’
Rob ushered him in, then left him to take a seat at the window. The windowsills had been converted into built-in leaners, wide enough to hold a pint glass, a bowl of chips and a couple of pairs of elbows.
‘There you go.’
A crisp, golden lager was set before him.
‘Thanks.’ He nodded his gratitude as he took a sip of the refreshing drink. ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’
‘She’s a warm one.’ Rob sat back onto his stool and took a long swig of his pint. ‘Good day for the market. It’s nice to see the place humming with people, like you’d think it ought to be at this time of year.’ He set his glass down and stared out the window. ‘Sometimes I wonder if Herring Cove is in some magical bubble that keeps most people out, but, every now and then that bubble will let someone in, and once here they find they don’t want to leave.’
Alexander ran his thumb through the condensation on his glass. Rob’s words were thick with meaning… but he couldn’t quite catch what that meaning was. Couldn’t. Or was afraid to admit he knew exactly what Rob was on about. ‘Were you born here, Rob? Or did you make your way into the magical bubble of the village?’
Rob shifted in his seat, angled his body in Alexander’s direction. His brow creased as his eyebrows knitted together. ‘Made my way? That makes it sound like I wanted to come here. My arrival in Herring Cove was much more in the style of fate.’
Alexander found himself leaning in, not wanting to miss a word of the tale to come in Rob’s deep and low lilt.
‘I was a session musician once upon a time. Would tour around the country whenever required. Loved the lifestyle. Loved not sitting still. Rolling stones gather no moss and all that. I was never one for the idea of being bogged down by anything or anyone…’ His shoulders shook with a shudder. ‘I was so independent I wouldn’t even travel with the band. Preferred to pack my stuff in my car and get there on my own. Then one day I took a wrong turn and ended up here. No big deal, or so I thought. I could just do a U-turn and find my way back to the main road. Except then I heard this thump-thump-thump.’
‘Flat tyre.’ Alexander’s knuckles strained against his skin as he gripped his glass. Rob’s wide eyes and lowered voice made it seem like a horror story. Yet he had his happy ending. Didn’t he?
‘Two flat tyres. And not a tyre shop in sight. So, I did the only thing I could.’
Alexander held his thumb and little finger out and put his hand up to the side of his head. ‘Called for help?’
‘No.’ Rob let out a huff of disgust, his large nose wrinkling. ‘I found the closest pub – or as it turned out, the only pub – ordered myself a beer and figured I’d sleep on the beach, then sort everything out the next day.’
‘And how did that work out for you?’ Alexander asked, even though he had an idea he knew exactly how things went.
‘Well, I met this gorgeous woman who was working behind the bar. Turned out she owned the place. And, you know what? I think she must carry the magic of Herring Cove with her, because once I was in her bubble I didn’t want to pop it. Or blow it.’
‘Did you ever miss your old life? Feel trapped by your new one?’ Alexander knew what Rob’s answer would be, but wanted to hear it anyw
ay. To see the emotion on his face.
A cheek-creasing grin appeared. The lines surrounding his eyes became crevasses. His eyes radiated love. ‘Not once. I have a place to play my music. More friends – real connections – than I ever could have dreamed of. And the love of a very good woman. What more could I want?’
‘You bleating on about the magic bubble of Herring Cove again, my love?’ Sherry set down a bowl of chips and a ramekin of creamy aioli, wrapped her arm around Rob’s neck and brought him in for a kiss. ‘Don’t believe him. There’s no bubble. I just got very lucky that his car got nailed, literally, and that he liked beer.’
Rob shook his head. ‘There’s. A. Bubble.’ The words were silent, but Sherry mussed his hair like she’d heard them anyway.
‘Silly bugger. Now do you two need anything else?’
‘Thanks, my heart, but I think we’re good.’ Rob kissed Sherry’s cheek and sent her on her way with an affectionate tap on her bum. ‘So, how’s Herring Cove treating you? Have you got what you came for?’
Alexander’s heart stilled. Was this friendly conversation going down the hard-word path? Was Rob going to give him grief for doing his job? A job he had little choice but to do.
‘Breathe, lad.’ Rob placed his hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘You look like you’re about to bring up your breakfast.’
Alexander did as he was told and filled his lungs with deep breath after breath until the beer in his stomach ceased swirling and the tension in his chest released.
‘Sorry. Being here hasn’t been the easiest. We’ve never been met with this kind of resistance. Tonight, at the market, I’m planning to make myself available to anyone who wants to have a chat. Hopefully I can ease some minds. Explain to them why a resort will be good for the village.’
Rob released his hold on Alexander and went back to nursing his beer. ‘Maybe I’m reading things wrong, but you don’t sound particularly convinced yourself that a resort’s the best idea for the village.’
Was it too late to excuse himself, to leave this conversation? Or would doing that make it clear that Rob was right? That a Fletcher resort in Herring Cove was beginning to feel less and less like the right thing to do.
The Little Bookshop at Herring Cove Page 13
