His grin hitches higher, his dimple popping. “Most women tell me that, though usually under different circumstances.”
“If you must know,” I say, ignoring his comment and deciding to air my secrets if it means changing the subject, “I’m thinking about renting this place.” I can feel my shoulders against my ears as I try to sink into myself and cover the blush starting to rise to my cheeks as I wait for his response.
I can only describe his expression as pure delight. It’s slow, the way it changes. Morphing from a teasing half grin into something more spectacular. Lips curling at the edges until his smile is full to bursting. White teeth making an appearance. Lines crinkling beside his eyes and mouth. Everything about his face softens until he looks less like the town playboy and more like a man waking up from a particularly happy dream, only to find that it’s real.
“Finley Blankenship, as I live and breathe,” he says, pure wonder. “You’re expanding Unlikely Places?”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I almost swear his gaze dips to track the movement before returning to my eyes. I give him a small shake of my head. “No, I’m thinking of opening a bookstore.”
I don’t know why, but my heart stutters as I wait for his reaction. We may tease each other mercilessly, but he’s been around for the majority of my life and knows me better thanmost anyone else. I trust his opinion, maybe more than I should. And if he tells me I’m in over my head, I think I’ll believe him.
But he doesn’t. Somehow that smile stretches impossibly. His eyes move past mine, flitting around the shop, as if imagining what it would look like with shelves and messy stacks of books. I wonder if he sees it the way I do, if he can sense the possibilities.
When his gaze lands back on mine, it’s settled. “Let’s do it.”
“Do what?” I ask, taking a step back, moving deeper into the empty shop. He’s too magnetic. I always thought we were repelling sides, but lately I feel like his opposing pole, drawn inexplicably closer without my permission.
“Let’s open this bookstore. What do we need to do?” He looks around the space once more, mentally cataloging. “Buy some bookshelves? No, what am I saying? Holden can build them. And books, of course. How do you buy books? Will you take used ones? And—”
I cut him off, holding up my hand. “Whoa, you’re getting ahead of me. I haven’t even decided if I’m going to do it yet.”
But my insides feel warm, gooey. The middle of a perfect brownie. I’ve been so unsure I could do this, sneaking in when the town is quiet so I could stand in here in peace and make pro and con lists. I just mentioned it to Grey, and he’s acting as if it’s a done deal, as if there’s not a doubt in his mind that I could make this happen.
His brow wrinkles. “Why wouldn’t you do it? You’d be amazing at it.”
“What could possibly make you think that?” I ask on a laugh that echoes in the cavernous space.
Confusion colors his features, thick brows pulling together. A divot forms between them, as if my question is so off the wall that he doesn’t understand it. “Because I have no doubt you could do anything you put your mind to, Fin.”
His words suck all the air from my lungs, making my mouth dry. Like the moment the dentist puts the suction into your mouth and sucks out all the moisture. I can feel my heart in my chest, beating loudly enough I think it will echo like our voices.
His confidence in me is intoxicating. It’s most likely misplaced, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from spreading through me, smoothing over my insecurities like a heavy blanket.
I swallow, needing to drop his earnest gaze and lookanywhereelse. I don’t know what I’m feeling now, but it’s foreign. Pleasant. Scary. Heady.
“I don’t know about all that.”
When I look at him again, that grin is back, the one that never fails to get him the number of any random woman in whatever bar we end up in. “That’s okay. I have enough confidence for the both of us.”
A laugh snorts out of me, popping the tension like a bubble. This feels normal, easy. “That’s the truth.”
He gestures with his head toward the street outside, spring sky eyes sparking. “C’mon, let’s get dinner, and you can tell me all about it.”
We end up atthe drive-in. Buddy’s is a little drive-up burger place, only open during the warmer months. When a hot dog or burger seems like the perfect way to end a day spent in the sun, and you can order ice cream cones that drip down your fingers, but you don’t mind because it’s summer, and it’s all a part of it.
My aunt used to bring me here when she’d pick me up for a sleepover at her house when we were both out of school for the summer—her teaching middle school science. Buddy’s is where most of my favorite memories from childhood take place, where Holden and Finley and I used to end up after football games after school started, and where I want to be now. With her.
After Buddy—a man in his early seventies who’s hanging on to the smallest patch of white hair on his mostly bald head—comes out to take our order, I turn in my seat to face Finley and say, “Tell me everything about this bookstore.”
She laughs, a soft, almost self-deprecating sound. “There’s not much to tell. I had a very far-fetched, romanticized idea of opening a bookstore. It will probably never happen.” She pauses,eyes going stern. “And don’t you dare mention this to Mom or Wren, or they will never let it go.”
This makes a smile touch my lips, but it’s doused quickly. “Why do you say it will probably never happen?”
She gives me an incredulous look. “Owning a business ishard. Owning two is almost impossible. Owning a business you know nothing about actually is impossible.”
I roll my eyes. “You read all the time.”
“Reading a lot doesn’t mean I know how to run a bookstore.”
