by Brinda Berry
I guess I forgot about the other person in our meeting.
“Hi. I’m Josie Jensen.”
“I’m Webb. So glad to finally meet you.” The guy pushes my chair in and walks back to his side of the table and seats himself.
Placing a portfolio of paperwork on the table, I smile at William. “This is the first time I’ve ever been inside Le Greco’s. It's a nice place.”
“This is my restaurant,” William says.
William knows so much about my store due to personal experience while I know nothing about him. “Well, I obviously need to research your businesses. I had no idea.”
I shift my attention from William over to Webb. He looks about my age and not like someone who’d fit as an ‘associate’ of William’s. No suit. No tie. No way this dude is carrying business cards.
He wears a black wool sweater over a white T-shirt. He’s pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbow and tattoos decorate his forearms.
He’s hip and definitely not the sort I’d picture working for William.
Webb holds up the wine bottle beside him. “Would you like some? We always ask the sommelier to bring a good merlot to the table, but we can get something else…”
“No. Water’s good.” I take a sip from the glass in front of me.
Webb leans forward. “I’m crazy about your bookstore. I like the way you kept your principles by not filling it with electronics. Simply paper books."
William nods approvingly. “Paper. We like it. But the industry moves and you have to move with it.”
My principles prickle as I get ready to be offended. There’s no way I’m turning my store into an e-reader mecca. “I run a boutique store these days. I know what’s happening around me, but I hope people still need my merchandise as well.”
A waitress enters the room. She asks William and Webb if they’ll be having their usual. They both nod and then she turns to me. “I didn’t see the menu, but I really want a plain salad. Oil and vinegar dressing. No meat. No cheese.”
“Of course,” she says without blinking an eye. When you’re a guest of William Walters, I guess you can make up your own menu.
The two men argue (politely) over whether or not they’ll be going for a run in the morning to counteract the mousse for dessert. At this point, I speculate that Mr. Handsome Webb is William’s gold-digging boyfriend. There has to be twenty years difference in age.
Not that I care, but ew…William as a boyfriend. Webb can do better.
William takes a sip of coffee. “I’ve been watching you at the store. You’ve probably noticed I don’t come in to buy books.”
Leave it to this guy to state the obvious. “I'm not trying to be rude, William. But can we skip to the part where you give me your idea and then make me an offer?” I relax now that I’ve gotten the question out in the open and look from William to Webb and back to William.
“The way that you’re running the store,” William begins, ‘you’re going to ruin it. You’re probably near bankruptcy now.”
“And let me guess,” I say. “You want to buy Dog Ears and turn it into an electronics store.”
“I hope you are being facetious.” William glowers at me. “I want to bring it back to its former glory. I want to make people flock to Dog Ears Bookstore, because it’s as safe and familiar as their mother’s homemade apple pie.”
My chest squeezes at the thought of someone coming in and tearing down all the history of the place. My mother loved Dog Ears and invested so much of herself in it.
I tuck my sadness away. No use getting all sentimental. I have bigger worries with the baby coming.
The waitress returns with our salads and Webb ignores his. “We don’t want to buy the store from you. We want a partnership. You’re the lifeblood of that place and it will fail without you.”
“Come again?”
Webb’s eyes light with excitement. Small crinkles pop into the corners when he smiles at me. “See, I have the marketing expertise and you have the contagious love for books. Customers trust you. You know how to make everyone want to read what you’re reading. We’re a match made in bookstore heaven.”
“You do marketing for William?” My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, but I let it go to voicemail.
William digs into his food, no longer concerned with contributing to the conversation. Odd. Doesn’t he even care that Webb is taking over the meeting?
“I’m not interested in becoming a store clerk, so if you say partnership…I hope that’s exactly what you mean,” I say. “I have a personal situation and my finances have moved to the front burner. I need a career that pays.”
Webb points to the portfolio that I brought. “Did you bring some financials to discuss? I’ll take those and review tonight, if you don’t mind. I’ll also make sure the accountant emails some things to you. Dad and I invest in Nashville and its future. I’ll help you get everything turned around with a revamp. Then I step out and you make magic with your genuine interest in the bookstore. The history of Nashville lives on.”
There’s a ringing in my ears that must have caused me to misunderstand what Webb says. “Dad? Did you say Dad?”
Webb laughs. “Sorry. I don’t always say that I’m Webb Walters because people would judge me according to what they know about Dad.”
Understatement of the year. Worse, I thought he was William’s lover. I vow to keep this tidbit to myself.
Webb grins and stabs his salad fork into a cherry tomato. “You wouldn't be the first one to be surprised.”
There is exactly zero resemblance between Webb and William. Not only do they lack a physical resemblance, but they are miles apart in mannerisms.
Webb looks like he should be managing a rock band, not marketing a bookstore. And how the heck did William raise a son as normal as Webb? My cell phone buzzes again and I pull it from my pocket. I study the display and see a text from Dane.
Dane: where are you? I am on your front porch. Should I wait?
“Do you need to take that?” Webb asks.
"No, no." My cell phone is on silent, but it vibrates with the incoming call from Dane. "Let me send one quick text. I'm so sorry."
Me: I am out to dinner. I'll talk to you later.
I shove the phone into my bag. “Will these papers outline everything you’re proposing?”
“Everything,” Webb answers. “Including the investment we would make on behalf of Walters Incorporated and exactly what my role would be in this partnership. I think you’ll be very happy with it. Especially after I outline all my ideas to bring financial prosperity to the bookstore. We can meet as many times as you like until you feel sure about it.”
William crunches on a breadstick. “Further meetings will take place without me. I’d like to spend the rest of the time enjoying this meal. Save the business talk for later.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Webb says. “He loves your bookstore. He raved about it so much that I wandered in by myself one day. I didn’t see you working or I’d have introduced myself.”
“Oh. I see.” But I really don't see. I don’t get this at all. And why would someone as wealthy as this guy be interested in my little bookstore?
I pull into my driveway and maneuver around Dane’s truck. Once I’m inside the garage, I cut the engine and sit quietly for a moment as I think about what I’m going to tell him and what I’m not. At this point, I’m not sure I’m even considering a business proposal. But if I tell Dane, he’ll shut me down before I even get to study the paperwork.
He opens the driver’s door, and I lift my eyes to look at him. “I was going to call you.”
“I’ve been waiting here since I texted.”
I frowned at him. That was at least an hour ago. “I told you I was out to dinner. You got that text, right?”
He gives a short jerk of his chin. “Yeah. But I wanted to see you and by the time I went home you’d probably return and then I'd be back over here.”
I slide out of the car a
nd grab my handbag. He follows me into the house, softly stepping behind me as I walk into the kitchen and flip on the lights. “What's up?”
“Are you avoiding me?”
“No, there’s a lot going on in my life right now. You know how the summer season is.”
“Who’d you have dinner with?” The question is a casual one, not accusatory or suspicious. He expects me to say Kiley or someone like that. But I’ve never lied to Dane except when it comes to my feelings about him. I really don’t need to start now. “Just someone who’s interested in the bookstore. It was a business meeting.”
He grabs a mug and places it in the 1-cup coffeemaker holder. “Okay if I make a cup of coffee? Do you want one?”
I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not going to ask me who the meeting was with. “No, go ahead. None for me, because I'm cutting out my caffeine.”
He pushes the button to start the drip. “So, who was your meeting with?”
This is what I get for thinking it will be so easy. “William Walters.” I brace myself for what’s to come.
He narrows his eyes, and one eyebrow comically twitches in confusion. “Why?”
“Yeah. William is interested in the bookstore. He loves it there.”
“Loves to hang out and be weird. I can’t believe you met with him alone. What were you thinking? Maybe I should give him a call and let him know that you aren’t some easy mark for rich, old guys. I—”
“I can certainly meet with anyone I like about my business and why don’t you think someone would want to invest in the bookstore?”
“Whoa. Settle down. I worry about you. That’s all. And I’m interested in investing in the bookstore. Remember? Are you telling me crazy William is my competition?”
Chapter Twelve
Connection
Dane
July
Some days, I’d give my left nut to understand women better. Understanding Josie right now? I’d sacrifice both of my family jewels.
I dropped by her place uninvited so we could have a little man-to-woman talk without customers and employees around to listen.
“A partnership in a business plus having the baby together equals too many possibilities for us to fight over things,” Josie says. “We have to keep our relationship solely personal. Okay? Can we do that?” She turns and opens her kitchen cupboard. She grabs a cup and box of teabags.
Honestly, I’m not surprised. She’s been lukewarm about a partnership with me for months. And if I have to choose between having her in my business life or personal life, it’s a no-brainer.
“Okay.” I step forward. My voice dips lower. “You and me. All personal, all the time.”
“Not that personal.”
“Why? Give me one good reason.”
“I can give you way more than one. We’re best friends. If you want to continue to be friends, sleeping together threatens to ruin it. Staying platonic is the only reason we’ve been able to be friends for so long.”
“Kiley and Gunner are best friends. Leo and Harper—best buds. So are Aiden and Mak. What about all of them?” I take two steps until my body is inches from her back. Lifting her hair with one hand, I feather light kisses along the base of her neck.
A nice little moan escapes her throat and then she stiffens. Her hand shakes as she opens the tea bag package. “Reason number two. It was a one off-thing when we had sex. You never tried to make a move on me in all the years we’ve known each other. I can only assume you weren’t attracted to me.”
My brain has loved the way she thinks. My ears have loved the musical sound of her laughter. My dick has always been in love with her rocking body.
“Don’t do that,” I mutter against her skin. “Don’t think you know what I’ve wanted all these years. I was afraid I’d lose my best friend. You didn’t exactly let me know you’d be interested in more than friends.
And once I let myself have it, I knew you wanted it too. You set me on fire when I touch you and you’d be lying if you said you don’t feel the same way.”
Shoving the fabric over her shoulder, I skate my lips along the tiny bumps of her upper spine. I breathe in the scent of her warm skin. She leans back and melts into my body. Her ass feels amazing pressed up against my hardening cock. Is the woman trying to kill me?
She whimpers and I groan. We’ve gone straight into making porn sounds while in a fully-clothed embrace.
“Josie?” I whisper hoarsely.
“Yes? I mean…no,” she says. “Whatever the question is, the answer is no.” She’s fighting this so hard. Our physical connection is so intense, so startling, and so perfect.
“Relax,” I whisper. Her head falls forward allowing more access.
“This is not a good idea.” She almost hums the words. A natural reaction from her mind, but evidently a lie from the way her body responds to me.
“I missed you.” I rain small kisses along the side of her neck. There’s no stopping the way my hips rest against her round ass. I drop her hair and allow my hands to snake around her sides to cup her breasts. Fuller. Heavier than I remember. I drop my mouth to nip lightly at her shoulder and a moan glides from my throat. Every inch of her body teases and excites me.
“Ah…” she says in response to my kiss along the column of her neck and to her shoulder blade.
Blood rushes to my dick. I want her even though I know the timing is wrong, my feelings are wrong, everything in our future is unknown.
“Dane,” she murmurs. “I feel a little dizzy.”
I slide my hands down to the bottoms of her ass and pull her to me. “Me too, baby.”
I twirl her around and cup her face. My mouth descends upon hers hungrily. I sweep my tongue between her lips, stroking and begging for more. Making magic with the way her body molds to mine.
She pulls her head back, breaking the spell. “I'm serious,” she says, her breath coming in quick pants. “I don’t feel right.”
There’s a tone in her voice that I haven’t noticed in the past few minutes. I search her eyes.
“What's wrong?” Alarm tingles along my nerves and prickles my skin.
She sways toward me and places both hands on my chest. Her face is pale. “I just need to take a breath,” she says. “I don’t want to pass out.”
My heart thumps harder and louder in my ears. Adrenaline surfs to my lungs and I attempt to steady myself.
“You should lie down.” I take her hand and link her fingers through mine. In another second, I release them, then bend and loop my arm underneath her knees that buckle all too easily. I hug her body to mine as I carry her like precious cargo.
I take long strides through the kitchen to her family room. The room is dark with not even lamplight to guide us, but I know my way around her place. When her parents died, she left everything in place—a tribute to the most important people in her life. It’s as if she keeps everything as it was to feel their presence. I maneuver around the large leather ottoman and gently set her on the sofa. There’s no protest from her at being carried. She’s definitely not herself.
“Fuck, Josie. Why didn’t you tell me something’s wrong? How long have you been feeling this way?’
I’m angry at myself, but I know how my tone comes across like I’m mad at her. And she’s not even bristling at my questions. My Josie would tear me a new one for speaking to her in anger. It’s just not something we’ve ever done. Real fear blossoms in my chest. Helpless fear. I place my hand on her forehead. But she’s cool and a little clammy.
“Quit fussing. I just need a minute. Maybe I haven’t eaten enough today, and don’t you dare say anything about that.”
“Maybe I should call an ambulance.” I’m already tugging the cell phone from my pocket.
“One finger on that phone, and I’ll hurt you.” Josie struggles to sit up, but I’m hovering over her and preventing it. She glares at me.
The feisty resistance I see in her eyes makes me feel better. She’s going to be all right. It was just a
little dizzy spell, but shouldn’t she take better care of herself? Josie has never been a delicate flower. Growing up with a twin brother and all his ornery friends taught her that. My Josie kicks ass. And this is exactly why her physical condition alarms me. Maybe I should take her to the emergency room.
“You’re scaring me.”
She gives me a grunt. “It’s all that kissing. So. Happy now? You made me all swoony.”
Her diversion tactic doesn’t fool me. “Is this the only time it’s happened? I need to know. This is important.” I sweep her bangs from her forehead. “How many times have you felt like this?”
“Every time some egomaniac forces his kisses on me?” Her mouth forms a lopsided smile.
“No jokes. It’s not too late for the emergency room.”
She exhales and grunts. “You are such a bully. Okay. So I was sick every day the first trimester. That’s normal for some women. But I’ve felt a lot better since then. I don’t have morning sickness anymore. Every once in a while I feel a little off. Tired. I have a doctors appointment with my obstetrician. I’ll ask him about it. Really. Get that look off your face.”
“When?”
She nods. “Tomorrow. It’s my normal appointment, and I will tell you everything he says.”
I study her. “Okay. I won’t call an ambulance tonight. And I’m staying here overnight.”
She shakes her head furiously. “No way.”
“Yes, way. I’m staying here tonight and I’m going with you to the doctor’s appointment. I should be going to them anyway.”
Josie rolls her eyes. “You can sleep in the guest room.”
“Deal. I’ll be good. And I’ll be here if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine.” She swings her feet to the floor. “I think I’ll get ready for bed early. Help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen. She yawns as if to make her point.
“Goodnight, Butterfly.”
“Night.”
Morning brings the sound of rain pelting against the roof. It’s the kind of rain where you imagine the earth coming to an end after a thorough cleansing.