Bubbles frothed up the inside of the champagne glass as Ginny poured fizz into it.
‘Woah, that’ll do. There’s still work to be done.’ Sophie made to move the glass but not before Ginny managed to fill it to the top.
‘Piffle. Life’s short. We should celebrate everything, and you, my dear, are about to pull off Herring Cove’s first market in years. Everyone’s into it, even the people who are pro-Fletcher. I’ve seen buzz on neighbouring villages’ social pages too. I think we’re in for quite a crowd.’
Ginny half filled her own glass, then raised it in silent cheers. They clinked glasses and took a sip.
Tiny needles of nervousness prickled down Sophie’s back. ‘Do we have enough food stalls, do you think? The farmer’s wife behind me has made huge pots of summer stews with couscous, and quiches and fruit pies. Sherry and Rob have ordered in extra. I’ve found a mobile pasty truck and they’ve said they’ll come… And what if nobody comes and the stallholders sell nothing? They’ll hate me.’
‘Sophie. Breathe before you pass out from unnecessary worry.’ Ginny placed her hands on her shoulders and frog-marched her to the front window. ‘Look. What do you see?’
Trestle table after trestle table lined the street with vendors arranging their wares. Dotted around them were volunteers who were hanging bunting in all the colours of the rainbow from lamppost to lamppost. Unfamiliar faces wandered the streets, laughing, smiling and chatting.
‘The market’s hours away and already we’re seeing people we’ve never seen before. The shop owner’s worried he’s going to run out of ice cream before the extra he ordered arrives. Sherry and Rob have had to ask locals to let them borrow their dining-room tables and chairs to fit all the people who’re already here. The market’s not even started and it’s a success.’
Happiness soared in Sophie’s heart. Ginny was right. The market was going to be fine. And she’d made her first online sale that day to a very grateful man who’d spent years looking for a book that had been sitting gathering dust on her shelves for years.
‘It’s going to be great,’ she said as much to herself as to Ginny. ‘Which reminds me, I need to set up my stall. Need to decorate it too if I’m going to turn any heads or compete with that stall over there.’ She pointed out a glitter-encrusted table on which brightly coloured garden statues – gnomes and fairies, pixies and elves – were displayed.
An image of a box filled with sparkly party decorations that her mother had bought for her came to mind: pink and purple bunting, strings of faux silver and gold pearls. Glam enough to attract attention without being overly garish.
The doorbell jangled and, despite not being in direct sight of the door, Sophie knew immediately who it was.
Lemony-fresh scent and a vibrant energy that caressed her, despite its owner being a metre away.
‘Bubbles, Alex?’ Ginny rushed to the counter, grabbed an empty mug and began to pour without waiting for an answer. ‘Sorry about the vessel, but it goes down the same.’ She shoved it in his hands, then turned her attention back to Sophie.
‘What are you waiting for, Soph? Go get yourself sorted. I can hang here and grab you if any customers come in.’
‘What needs to be sorted?’ Alexander took a sip and set the mug down.
‘Nothing, really. I just have to get my stall ready, but first I need to get up in the loft and grab some decorations.’ She picked up the bottle of champagne and offered it to Ginny.
‘No more for me.’ Ginny tapped her belly. ‘Mike and I have made a bit of a big decision. We’ve decided to start trying. Two needs to become three. Our wee family is ready to become not-so-wee.’
Sophie’s gut knotted up. More change. Natalie was going to move away with the kids. Ginny was going to become a mum. And what was she going to do? Sit in a falling-apart bookstore gathering dust like the books around her?
She sucked in a quiet breath, held it for three, then released. Blowing away the panic, the sadness. The loneliness that crept up, threatening to strangle the excitement of the event she’d created to bring the town together, the joy of making her first online sale; one of many, hopefully.
She wasn’t being left behind. Her life was transforming every bit as much as Ginny’s and Natalie’s. But instead of moving on to a new village or creating a baby, she was experiencing a rebirth of her bookshop. Sure, it didn’t hold her at night and whisper sweet words, or fly into her arms telling her every little thing that was running through their mind like Natalie’s kids did, but her bookstore gave her the stability she needed. Gave her purpose. And, unlike a person, it wasn’t going anywhere.
Not if she could help it.
She pulled Ginny in for a hug. ‘I’m so happy for you, Gin. And excited. I can’t wait to be Aunsof to a mini-you. You’re going to be an amazing mum.’
Ginny squeezed her tight. ‘And my future kiddiewinks are going to be lucky to call you Aunty. Love you, Soph.’
Sophie kissed Ginny on the cheek, released her and raised her glass. ‘To the future sound of little feet pattering through All Booked Up.’
Ginny touched her glass to Sophie’s. ‘And to you for seeing opportunities in our darkest hour and running with them. For standing up to “the man”.’
‘Um, “the man” is standing right here, remember?’ Alexander’s brows raised in good humour. ‘And I’d like to think “the man” has been a bit helpful. That I still might be.’
Ginny set her glass down and backed away. ‘You know what would be helpful, Alex? Doing a one-eighty on this project of yours and just letting the town be. And with that said, I do believe that’s my cue to leave.’
Sophie went to tell Alexander to ignore Ginny, but found the words halted on the tip of her tongue. Ginny said what she was thinking. What half the village were thinking. They didn’t want their town changed, not in the way Alexander and his family were proposing.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance what Ginny asked for could happen?’
Alexander shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. ‘I don’t see how, and that’s the truth. Once my father decides something, it’s as good as done.’
There was a dolefulness in Alexander’s tone that Sophie had not heard before. Was he beginning to regret his part in the so-called reinvigoration of Herring Cove? Was there a chance it could be saved from corporate hands?
Hope bubbled in her blood, sent her heart into overdrive.
Maybe if the evening went really well, if enough money was made, if others saw what Herring Cove had to offer and invested in it, maybe that would change enough of the villager’s minds that they could stage a full-on revolt. People lying in front of tractors and bulldozers. Marches down the lane. Articles in newspapers nationwide. Anything and everything to send the message loud and clear to the Fletcher Group that they were not welcome in Herring Cove.
Or maybe it was a case of the man standing in front of her seeing what she saw in her home, and using his sway to convince the Fletcher Group to leave it be. Could Alexander take that stand though? Her hope settled to a dull simmer. Not likely. It would be even more unlikely that his father would pay attention to him if he did take a stand and say something.
‘You were saying something about some decorations?’ Alexander tucked one arm behind his back and half bowed. ‘Because if it’s help you need, I’m at your service, my lady.’
‘In that case…’ Sophie crooked her finger. ‘Come. I’m going to need your muscles.’
‘Ah, it’s always the way. Women only want me for my brute strength.’ Alexander’s brows furrowed as his bottom lip protruded in a pout that was somehow cute and sexy at the same time.
‘Well I can’t speak for the others, but that’s what this woman wants you for.’ She reached over and patted his bicep. An innocent act, yet she couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his arm was taut with muscle. Not a flabby bit to be felt.
‘Are you going to give me back my arm anytime soon?’ Alexander winked.
Sophie snatched her hand back like it had been burnt. ‘Sorry. I guess it’s been a long time since I felt anything that… hard.’ Hard? Really? Couldn’t have chosen a less loaded word there, Sophie? ‘Er, that came out wrong. What I meant to say is that it’s not often I touch anything hard. At all. Man-wise.’
She tore her gaze away from Alexander’s bemused lips, which had twitched to the side and were trembling with silent laughter.
‘Shall I find you a spade to dig a larger hole?’
A thigh-to-hip nudge followed, and Sophie became acutely aware that it wasn’t just his bicep that was pure muscle. The length of thigh that teased her had no give whatsoever.
‘Oh shush. You know what I mean. Now you can either continue teasing me or you can help me… Your choice.’ She turned and made her way up the stairs, past her lounge to her bedroom door. ‘Don’t get any ideas.’ She waggled her finger and opened the door to her bedroom.
He hovered at the threshold. ‘I feel like I should close my eyes or ask for a blindfold or something.’
Sophie glanced around the room and mentally said thanks to her early-morning self for making her bed and tossing the previous day’s clothing – including a pair of unsightly greying underwear – into the laundry basket. ‘No blindfold needed, there’s nothing to see here, but how do you feel about tight spaces?’
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and mentally slapped her forehead as she jerked her thumb towards the loft hatch. Why were all her sentences sounding like some sort of invitation?
‘For the record, just so you know, that’s not some double entendre. I’m not trying to… I don’t know… seduce you or anything mad like that.’
Slow, steady footsteps across the wooden floor followed, punctuated by that heady Alex-aroma.
Sophie turned around to see Alexander looking up at her, his head tilted to the side, amusement flickering across his face ‘I know. Though I’m a touch disappointed. I feel like a Sophie seduction would be… interesting. Also, tight spaces are fine.’
‘Great.’ She forced the word out through gritted teeth. She had to ignore the heat that had made its way from her cheeks to somewhere far lower, and far more likely to get her in trouble. Her body may well be wanting to take a risk on Alexander, but her heart knew better. ‘I’ll just grab the step ladder.’
She rushed out to the kitchenette where she kept the step ladder tucked behind the door – grateful for the few seconds away from Alexander and all his… almost irresistible hotness.
Get it together, girl. He’s just a man. Nothing special.
Even the voice of reason sounded doubtful. Still, it wasn’t called “the voice of reason for nothing”, so it was best to listen to it.
She squared her shoulders in an attempt to adopt a businesslike posture, picked up the step ladder and carried it to the space under the hatch. ‘You go first, that way you can pull me up if need be.’
Alexander climbed the steps, moved the cover aside, poked his head through the hole, and made no further attempt to haul himself up.
‘You right there? Not afraid of the dark, are you? Changed your mind about tight spaces?’
‘Very funny.’
A dragging sound met her ears, followed by a plume of dust as Alexander ducked back down with a box in his hands. ‘There’s only a few boxes up there, all close enough for me to grab. So I thought it might be easier if we pull them down, check them out, then I can return whatever you don’t need?’
She reached up for the box.
‘Careful, it’s heavy.’ Alexander gently laid it in her hands.
She staggered under the wait. ‘Ooph, you weren’t kidding. What’s in here?’ She peered at a word written in black marker. ‘Books’.
Not just any books. Her father’s collection. His pride and joy. Something she’d not thought of, let alone touched, ever. Preferring to enjoy the comfort of simply knowing that something he loved was metres above where she slept.
‘There’s more where that came from.’
Two boxes later and Alexander had found the decorations. ‘Closest to me, but on my left not my right.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Typical. Could’ve saved myself an arm workout. Although, since you seem to quite like my arm muscles, maybe that bit of exercise wasn’t a bad thing.’
He jumped off the step ladder, decorations in arms and strode through to the lounge. ‘What’s in the heavy boxes anyway?’
Sophie sank to the ground, grabbed a pen from the coffee table, used its nib to rip through the tape, then peeled back the flaps. The scent of aged paper wafted up as she gently took the first book out. She stroked the cover, navy with embellished gold script citing the title and author’s name. ‘Here’s what’s in them.’
‘Books? Really? Shouldn’t they be in the shop rather than stashed away?’ His voice held surprise, and intrigue.
‘Not just any books.’ She opened the cover and checked the details. ‘They’re first-edition books.’ She picked up another. The cover was a little tattered, but still in good condition. ‘My father collected them. It was his hobby. They’re not all rare, but I think for my dad it wasn’t about the money he might earn from them one day, it was about treasuring something in its original state.’ She opened the book up and breathed in. ‘Musky and musty.’ She set the book down next to the other. ‘I’ll never stop loving that smell. It’s the scent of home. He used to let me sit on his lap as he read passages out loud to me from these books. It was our bedtime ritual for as long as I could remember.’
Alexander settled into a cross-legged position beside her, picked up the book she’d set down, pulled out his phone and began to swipe and type. ‘Have you seen how much this one’s worth?’ He flipped his mobile around to face her.
‘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 clutched 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.’