The One Real Thing
Page 19

But as he stared at his now empty bar, he thought, Fuck, more than a little worried.
He knew that if Jessica didn’t come to him he wasn’t going to be able to sit on it. The doc was someone worth getting to know. He felt it in that damn tingle.
Jessica
It was difficult to concentrate on anything but the attraction I’d felt to Cooper Lawson. I’d paused a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him where I was staying, but then I thought what the hell. I was here on vacation and there was no rule that said I couldn’t flirt with a rugged bar owner while I was here.
Still, it was the kind of intense attraction that threw me a little, so I had to admit stepping into Emery’s was a nice distraction.
To my left was a large counter and, behind it, coffee machines. To my right was the bookstore. Ahead and up a few steps was a seating area filled with cute little white tables and chairs. To the left of the table and chairs were comfortable armchairs and sofas situated near a lit open fireplace that crackled and snapped invitingly.
The place was empty, presumably because of the weather, but I couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to hang out here.
A door behind the counter opened and a woman stepped out. She gave me a shy smile. “I thought I heard the bell over the door.”
I smiled back and walked over to her. “It’s miserable out there.”
Her startling pale blue eyes took in my bedraggled state. “Would you like to get warm by the fire?” She asked it tentatively, almost as if she thought it was forward of her to offer me a kindness.
She was tall and willowy, with beautiful eyes and a heart-shaped face. She wore her long white-blond hair in an intricate plait that rested over her right shoulder. Wisps of hair framed her lovely face.
I glanced around at the bookstore with its white-painted bookshelves and hodgepodge of comfortable seating. A few Tiffany lamps were set here and there, adding warmth and color. All the woodwork in the store was painted white and it contrasted beautifully with the rich teal blue of the walls.
The place seemed to fit the woman and I couldn’t even put my finger on why. I turned back to her. I’d had every intention of buying a book and heading back to the inn, but I suddenly liked the idea of getting warm here. “Yes, I think I will. Are you the owner?”
She nodded.
I held out my hand. “I’m Jessica Huntington.”
She glanced at my hand a little unsurely and I was relieved when she lifted a long-fingered hand covered in silver rings and placed it in mine. The silver bracelets on her wrists tinkled together as we shook. “Emery Saunders.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” She dropped my hand quickly, along with her gaze. “Would you like a hot drink?”
I frowned, wondering how someone so timid could like working with the public all the time. “I’ll have a latte, please. I’m just going to peruse the books.”
She nodded and turned away, busying herself with making my coffee.
I realized I was curious about her—and also wondered why this place had me so damn curious about everything and everyone.
Especially a certain bar owner.
A few minutes later I put down two books on the counter and pulled out my wallet to pay for them and the coffee.
“That’s a good one,” Emery offered quietly, touching the book on top.
It was a crime novel. I had a thing about crime novels.
“You read thrillers?” She didn’t seem like the thriller type. She seemed like the magic and fairy-tale princes type.
“I read everything,” she replied softly and put my books through the register.
I paid and grabbed my books and coffee, heading toward the fireplace.
“Happy reading,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear.
I grinned back at her in thanks and got myself comfortable in an armchair with a footstool, right by the fire.
Heat suffused me and I soon lost myself in my book, my clothes drying without my even realizing it until much later.
Over the next couple of hours I was vaguely aware of a few people coming in and out of the store, but I was left to enjoy the fire alone. When a shadow fell on me I was surprised to find Emery standing over me.
She wore a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a white shirt with sleeves that were fitted from shoulder to elbow, where the fabric loosened out into long bells, like the style of a medieval maiden’s dress. Short biker boots completed the look.
“Would you like something to eat?” she offered. “I have sandwiches.”
It was only then I felt the growl of my empty stomach. “Sure, thank you.”
“Another latte?”
“That, too.” I grinned at her.
Not too long later she came back with both and laid them down on the reading table beside me.
“What else do you like to read?” I said, before she could escape me.
Emery seemed surprised by the question. “Oh . . . I like everything.”
“Okay. Who is your favorite author?”
She wrinkled her nose and I saw a glimmer of a smile on her lips. “That’s like asking which I prefer: oxygen or food.”
I laughed. “Well, tell me one of your favorite authors.”
Her lids lowered over her eyes, and I saw that her lashes, darkened with mascara, were enviously long.
For some reason I was charmed by this shy bookstore owner.
I was finding myself charmed by many people in Hartwell so far.
“J. D. Salinger,” she offered suddenly.