It’s only after the warmth of Mood Reader hits my skin that I realize I’m shaking.
“Are you okay?” Anton looks me up and down. He grabs a blanket that we have tossed over one of our comfy chairs and drapes it over my shoulders.
“I’m f-fine. I was admiring Main Street.”
“Could you maybe do that in less inclement weather?” He’s teasing me, but his eyes are kind. “What else do you need me to do?”
I tuck the blanket more firmly around my arms. I could protest his help. I could tell him to leave. But that’s not what I want. Not really. He won’t listen to me anyway. The man’s heart is too big. Like, doctors should study it to see if it’s actually oversized, because judging from the outpouring of his time and talents—with not only me but everyone around him—he’s got more in the cardiac capacity department than most.
“If you wouldn’t mind sweeping the floor. I’ve got to clean up the leftover cider.”
He sets off, and we work quietly. It doesn’t take long to get the bookstore back in order. I flip the overhead lights off so the twinkle lights are all that illuminate the space.
Anton comes to stand next to me. “You should be proud.”
I side-eye him.
He catches my gaze. “Of what you built, I mean. Everyone here obviously loves book club as much as you do.”
“I hope they do. But it’s just book club. Nothing ground-breaking,” I say, even if, for me, it’s something to look forward to each month. I doubt everyone else, with their lives together and other things on their dockets, cares as much as I do.
I’m waiting for him to say goodnight and head out into the storm. But he seems content to stand next to me, staring out at the snow. The scent of cedar and cinnamon that’s wafting off of him makes my brain feel sleepy and fuzzy, like someone spiked my cider. It’s nice, this letting-loose feeling. I know I should fight it, but my reasons for doing so are becoming flimsier and flimsier by the minute.
“You should give yourself more credit.” Anton’s voice is low and kind.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re undercutting your efforts and the work you put in to making something truly good. I wish you wouldn’t.”
I sigh. “Why are you doing this?”
He arches an eyebrow. “What? Standing here with you?”
I shake my head. “No. Being so nice to me. You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to stay and help me clean up. You don’t have to tell me I should give myself more credit. I don’t understand your motivations.”
“My motivations?” Anton’s eyes take on a hungry gleam, and I’m suddenly well-aware of the feeling his opponents get when he surveys the defense, ready to pick it apart play by play. I have a total-body feeling he’s about to puncture a hole in every one of my arguments and shred my own personal defense.
“Yeah. I don’t get you.” I cross my arms and face him, ready for the onslaught but not really ready at all.
“Then let me make myself very clear. My motivation is you and you alone, Rose.”
I tip my chin up at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Anton.” I inhale. “You know what. I’m not the kind of girl you need. I was awful to you all those years ago. You…we…we shouldn’t. You shouldn’t fall for me.”
“I can’t,” he says with a huff.
“You…can’t?”
“Don’t you get it?” He takes a step closer to me. “I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself. I can’tnotlove you. I’ve tried. For years, I tried. Heck, you gave me every reason in the world back in Mobile to give up on us, and I took what you said at face value. But I’ve missed you every dang day. And now that you’re here, and I’m here, and I’ve gotten a feel for you in my life again, I’ve reverted to all my old ways. I wake up in the morning and think aboutwhat you might be thinking about. I’m out there on the field, working my tail off on the off chance you might see me play and be impressed. I want to do it all for you and with you. You told me you didn’t want me, Rose, but I don’t believe you. Because you have my jersey. You brought my friends gifts. You told your book club that dating a royal wouldn’t be so bad if it’s the right royal. I think I’m the right royal for you. I’m the right man for you. And I don’t want to try not to love you anymore. I want you. I want to love you. I think you want that too. So would you just let me?”
He sucks in a ragged breath, and I stare up at him. My mind is completely full of his words.
Of him.
How can I deny my feelings for him when he laid his feelings so bare? I can’t. I won’t.
