“Ah. Sorry. But don’t most entrepreneurs try a bunch of ideas before finding the one that sticks?”
“I suppose.” He raised an eyebrow. “How about journalists?”
“What about us?”
“Did you try lots of jobs before finding the right one?”
Turning away, she pretended to examine the window display at Sea Visions Art Gallery. “There are only so many news outlets: print, digital, TV, radio, podcasts. My whole career has been in print since I come from a long line of newspaper reporters.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I’d rather stay in print news, but if I can’t resuscitate theBeaconby April, I’ll have to go freelance.”
As a deeply rooted homebody, she hated that idea right down to her marrow—traveling all over the Pacific Northwest, chasing down stories that someone, anyone, might actually pay for.
He stepped so close beside her, she felt his warmth through her thick jacket. “You’re easy on the eyes, and you’ve got a great voice. You could go into TV news.”
“At my age?” She snorted. “Stand aside, flawless twenty-something broadcast grads. Make way for grandma.”
“Hey.” Gripping her arm, he spun her to face him and held a warning finger an inch from her nose. “I won’t tolerate anyone talking smack about my new friend.”
His mock-stern expression was too cute not to play along. “Get that finger out of my face, or I’ll bite it.”
“That’s the spirit.” He patted her cheek, his touch light and warm and way too thrilling. “Now, shall we look at some art?”
And so, teasing and joshing, they made their way from shop to shop. Hannah introduced him to art gallerist Janice, who praised Gus’s creativity; to antiques dealer Annie Scott, who gave Xander a vintage Souvenir Planet ball cap; and to Daphne Lee, her far-too-curious bookselling bestie who gifted him a slim volume of local history and asked pointed questions about his relationship status, all the while shooting Hannah knowing grins.
“Single as a Pringle at the moment.” Xander waggled his eyebrows. “Why, are you looking?”
Daph fluttered a hand to her chest. “Not for myself. Just, you know, curious. In this tiny town, we single gals are fishing in a shallow pond.” She shot Hannah a meaningful look.
Hannah bugged her eyes out at her interfering friend. “Xander’s going to be busy rehabbing Gus’s shop.”
“Ah yes, too busy.” Daphne fiddled with a rotating stand of romance paperbacks. “There’s a lot of that going around.”
Xander’s rumbling laugh was much too sexy for Hannah’s precarious composure, and so was the way he threw his head back, exposing his strong, oh so kissable throat. Not to mention the way his eyes crinkled with mirth, and that one dark curl that flopped over his forehead, only to be raked back into place again and again. Man, would she love to sink her fingers into his hair, and…
Her eyes widened when he pressed his palm to the small of her back. “It was delightful to meet you, Daphne, but Hannah and I have a lot of ground to cover before those rain clouds let loose. Thanks for the book.” He wheeled toward the door, propelling her ahead of him.
She shouldn’t like that lower-back touch as much as she did.
“Well, well.” Once outside, Xander leaned against the brick wall. “Does your friend always bust your chops like that?”
“Nope. Seems you’ve inspired her.” Flustered and a little ticked off, she smoothed sweaty palms down her thighs. “Ready for our next stop?”
“Could we grab a bite to eat?” He patted his flat belly. “I got caught up in Gus’s cryptic bookkeeping and skipped lunch.”
“Sure. Let’s see—” She glanced up and down the street. “Cassie’s café is only open for breakfast and lunch. This time of year, that leaves Chinese, pizza, or kebabs, unless you want to go back to Salty Dog.”
“A kebab sounds perfect.”
They crossed the street to Ali Baba Kebabs, where Mo and Nabila Abadi greeted them with huge smiles, open arms, and a brimming plate of garlic-feta fries on the house.
While Mo prepared their pita wraps, Hannah and Xander inhaled their fries.
She brushed feta crumbs from her chin. “So, seen anything inspiring yet?”
One corner of his wide mouth lifted as he held her gaze, eyes twinkling with flirtatious mischief. “You could say that.”
Feigning obliviousness, she clasped her hands on the table. “Tell me.”
“Well, Daphne’s got the book market cornered, so no books.”
