“I’m not leaving Canada, that’s for sure,” Matthew replied. “But I don’t know where things will take me yet. I have some ideas to scrounge up freelance work. I made a listing on Editors Canada, but I need to get my website and social media going. If I could build my own business, I could work from home. I wouldn’t have to move again.”
A pop song rang out from Marshal’s direction, and he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his vest.
“Taylor Swift?” Mathew gave him an incredulous look. “And you were making fun of me about cozy mystery books?”
Marshal furrowed his brows. “It’s Sophie, and she put the song on here.”
“Sure, she did.”
Marshal jerked his head toward the house. “I’ve got to take this. Get going inside, I’ll catch up later.”
Matthew shrugged, then sauntered toward the old farmhouse, his water still in hand. Maybe Anna’s right about those authors. So what if some have less than friendly feelings toward me? Some might not. And I could prove to them that I want to help them.
And then, he could stick around Cedar Lake. He had to admit, despite Marshal being a pain lately, he liked living with his brother and being involved with his family again. Even his hometown had been growing on him. The quiet roads. The friendly, familiar faces. Anna Simone.
We’ll see how this freelancing thing goes. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he could still keep an eye out for a job with a publisher on the west coast. He could keep both options open, which would only further his chances at staying somewhat closer to home.
Anna ran her flat iron over the lock of hair in her fingers, admiring her smooth tresses in the mirror above her dresser. Monty lay on the yellow comforter on her bed, watching her with his head nestled between his paws. They’d just returned home from their Friday afternoon romp around the lake, and now the affable dog was ready for his regular nap.
Her laptop sat open on the corner of the dresser, her sister’s face filling the screen.
“So, let me get this straight,” Kelsey said, her usual wine glass in hand. “Now Matthew is actually pretty cool, and he offered to look over the first few chapters of your new manuscript? Why on earth didn’t you take him up on it?”
Anna frowned and sectioned a new portion of hair with her fingers. “His offer is still there, I think. But I didn’t know how to bring it up again, you know?” She clamped the tool on her wavy tress and slid it over her hair.
“No, I don’t know.” Kelsey took a sip from her glass. “He’s a professional editor. Why wouldn’t you want his help?”
“Kels, you’re not a writer. You don’t get it.” Anna placed the straightener on top of her dresser and whirled to face the laptop. “He rejected The Wicked Moon based only on its proposal. He didn’t even read it.”
“Exactly,” Kelsey replied. “So he has no idea how good you are. Didn’t your agent write the proposal, not you?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. The premise of the story is mine.” Anna sighed and drummed her fingers on the dresser’s surface. “He can be so intimidating. He’s all dimples and suave hair and broad shoulders—and an editor on top of it all.”
“Hold on.” Kelsey held up her free hand. A slow grin crept across her face. “Anna, do you have a thing for Mr. Pompous Editor?”
Anna huffed so loudly that even Monty raised his head. She walked to the bed and stroked his neck. Matthew had been extra kind to her the last few days at work. He’d listened patiently about her pains with The Wicked Moon, and even discussed his issues with finding work and seemed to respect her advice. He’d made her feel important, like her opinion and experience mattered. He’d even brought her tea from Valley Roast this morning—a matcha latté, exactly like she had ordered when they were in town together on Tuesday.
Come off it, Anna. He brought Rodger and Violet drinks too. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Come on, Kels. He’s this successful guy, making a career in the book world. And he didn’t like my work.” She returned to the dresser and peered at her sister. “I know I need to get over it, especially if I want to be an author. Critique is part of the game. But I didn’t think I’d have to face one of those critics in person.”
She thought of his dimpled smile and her stomach fluttered. And I didn’t think he’d be so charming, either.
Kelsey gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re right, I haven’t been there. But I can imagine how rough it is. When that professor tore me down in vet school—well, what I mean to say is, we all face rejection. But you shouldn’t quit.” She paused. “Maybe you met Matthew for a reason. You know, some sort of life lesson.”
Anna rolled her eyes and leaned closer to the screen. “Now you’re sounding like Christine.”
“Christine? The owner of the bookshop?”
“Oh yeah, she’s super into spiritual stuff. Tarot cards. Gemstones. You name it.”
“Maybe she’ll have a message from the unknown for you tonight.” Kelsey wiggled the fingers of her free hand in Anna’s direction. “About a handsome editor and a manuscript that could use a professional gaze.” She widened her eyes. “And a lost author who could use a little gazing upon by said editor herself—”
Anna snorted and shook her head. “I gotta go.” She checked the clock in the corner of the computer screen. “I have to be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay,” Kelsey replied. “Have fun. And let me know tomorrow if anything happens between you and Mr. Not-so-pompous Editor—”
“Kelsey,” Anna warned her.
“One last thing, Annie.”
“What?”
Kelsey tugged at a lock of hair behind her ear. “You missed a spot. Right here. Left side.”
Anna groaned and pawed at her hair, finding the stray curl. “Thank you. Good night.”
“Night.”
The computer went dark. Anna closed it, then picked up her flat iron and fixed her hair, swiped on a coat of mascara, and double-checked that the olive-green blouse she wore had no dog hair stuck to it. She glanced over her shoulder at Monty. “What do you think, buddy? Does this shirt compliment my skin tone?”
Monty cocked his head in silent approval, wagging his tail across the blanket.
Anna picked up a microfibre cloth from the ceramic tray on her dresser. She pulled off her glasses and cleaned the lenses, then slid them back on and looked at herself in the mirror. Why did I even bother straightening my hair? It’s just a book club meeting. I could show up in a hoodie and a messy bun, and nobody would bat an eye.
But maybe she wanted somebody to bat an eye. Maybe she wanted to seem confident and put together, especially in front of Matthew. And what could be wrong with that? She could make a connection with him. As an author, of course. Networking, that’s what they call it, right?
She went to her bed and gave Monty a final pat on the head, promising she wouldn’t be too long, then made her way to the door and grabbed her wool jacket off the hook. After slipping it on, she picked up her purse and left for the book store.
Once outside, the white lights Christine had strung across the storefront window caught her eye. With the burgundy leaves on the trees that framed the doorway, it looked like a magical portal into a fantasy land. In a way, that’s exactly what Steeped in Books was.
Anna ducked her head against the cold breeze and hustled across the street, searching for Matthew’s car. She didn’t see the red Toyota in any of the parking spots yet, so she paused in front of the shop’s door, wondering if she should wait for him outside. He’d told her that morning he would meet her there. Did that mean he wanted to go in with her? Or that he would meet her inside?
Before she could make up her mind, a familiar deep voice came from behind her.
“Anna Simone? What are you doing here?”
Anna spun around, her heart in her throat. Sure enough, Jace Cook stood staring at her as if she’d sprouted wings right in front of him. With his shoulder-length blond hair waving in the breeze and his hand
s in the pockets of his leather bomber, he looked as though he’d stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.
Anna swallowed and slid her gaze to the woman next to him, who grabbed his hand and gave Anna a bored look. She pushed her silky blond hair from her face, and Anna recognized her as Jillian—the ex-now-current girlfriend Jace had broken up with Anna for.
“Uh, hey.” Heat crept up Anna’s neck. She loosened her scarf with trembling fingers. “I’m here for the book club meeting. You?”
“That’s why we’re here too,” Jace replied. “Jilly Bean wanted to check it out, didn’t you?” He gave the woman an adoring smile. “There’s no book store in Rocky Ridge,” he said, referring to the neighbouring town where he lived. “This is the closest one.”
Jillian gave the front window a look of disdain. “It’s . . . cute. Quaint, I guess. I hope they actually carry some literature I’m interested in and not only genre fiction.”
Jilly Bean? Anna glanced at Jillian. What’s wrong with genre fiction? Romance, fantasy, mysteries—readers love them. “Oh. Cool. This is a great store. Christine carries all kinds of books. I’m sure she’ll have something you like.”
“Yeah.” Jace shifted, looking her up and down with his piercing blue eyes. “Speaking of books and genre fiction, I heard you lost your contract for your little fairy book. Tough deal.”
Little fairy book? The heat in Anna’s face swept to her ears. When they were together, he’d seemed excited for her when she’d landed the deal. Apparently, his tastes had changed. “Um, my agent is shopping it around again—”
Jillian leaned against Jace’s shoulder and let out a loud sigh. “Are you here by yourself? Should we go inside?”
Anna took a step back, her tongue stuck in her throat. She clenched her jaw, struggling to think of something to say. Her pulse raced with the urge to spin on her heel and escape the situation. To skip the meeting altogether and go home to work on her manuscript with a soothing cup of tea and Monty by her side.
“Hey, Anna.” Matthew’s friendly voice interrupted her panicked thoughts. He hit the button on his keys to lock his car, then joined them at the door. She looked him up and down, her cheeks growing even warmer as she took in his black wool jacket and his handsomely tousled hair.
He came to stand beside her and shot Jace a friendly, yet firm, smile. “Hey, I’m Matthew. A friend of Anna’s.”
Anna continued to stare at him, grateful he’d arrived when he did. “Hi.” She gestured toward Jace. “This is Jace.” She paused, the words my ex-boyfriend stuck in her mouth. “And Jillian. Anyways, we should head inside. I think the meeting is starting soon.”
“Sounds good to me.” Matthew nodded at the couple and stepped by them to open the door.
“Uh, thanks, man.” Jace led his girlfriend into the shop without a backwards glance.
Matthew raised a brow. “They friends of yours?”
Anna shook her head. “Not really. It’s a long story. But I dated Jace, once upon a time. And he dumped me for her.”
“Ouch.” Matthew gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, we’ll make sure to sit far away from them.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Are their names really Jace and Jillian? That’s weird.”
The woodsy smell of his aftershave went straight to Anna’s head, and her heart drummed against her ribs. She giggled, then wrinkled her nose. “He calls her Jilly Bean.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Matthew pressed his lips together as if he were holding back a laugh, then gestured for her to step inside while he held the door.
Anna stepped by him and entered the shop. Her jacket brushed against his as she went, sending a warm quiver up her arm. Why am I being like this? Behaving like a teenage girl on her first date! As far as she knew, this wasn’t a date. Or was it? Stop it, Anna. Be normal. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Matthew let the door close behind them. She gazed around the store, taking in the twinkle lights that ran along the bookcases and the snack table piled with treats and a coffee urn with paper cups next to it. Jace and his girlfriend had chosen seats in the front row of chairs in the middle of the room.
It’s going to be okay. We can sit here, listen to the discussion, and leave before snack and chat time. I won’t have to say another word to those two.
As she picked a spot for her and Matthew in the back row, Jace turned his head and gave her a quick glance. Matthew held out a chair for her to sit in, and her chest squeezed.
She thought back to Kelsey’s words earlier, do you have a thing for Mr. Pompous Editor? As much as she hated to admit it, maybe her sister was on to something.
Chapter Eleven
Matthew leaned back in his seat, trying to hold in a laugh. The centre of the store had been cleared; the book-laden tables pushed aside to make room for the three rows of chairs for the book club. He and Anna had sat in the back, and only about a dozen other people were there—mostly women, a few who Matthew recognized from around town.
The clerk he’d met the other day, Laura, stood at the front counter with her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face. A purple banner that read The Page Turners in white script had been strung across the baskets of tea on the wall behind her.
“Joanne, we are not reading the Nutcracker and the Mouse King. I know it’s a classic, but I think I’m not alone when I say we’d rather read something, well, fun. And maybe written in a language we can understand.”
A middle-aged woman in the second row with bright mahogany hair crossed her arms and let out a loud huff. “Do you think the members here can’t read English, Laura?”
An elderly lady sitting a few chairs over from her twisted in her seat. The chain on her cat-eye glasses caught on the brooch on her knitted sweater. “The language is a bit dated, Joanne. Even for me.”
“What do you suggest then, Lizzie?” Joanne shot back. “One of those bodice rippers I saw in your knitting bag last week at craft night?”
Lizzie snapped her mouth shut, giving Joanne one of the sharpest glares Matthew had ever seen.
Anna shifted next to him. When he looked at her, she caught his eye and gave him an amused shrug.
As Laura and Joanne continued to bicker, Jace stared into space from his seat at the front, as if ignoring the situation completely. Beside him, Jillian tapped at her phone screen. Matthew had a feeling they wouldn’t be back, which was fine with him.
What had Anna seen in that guy, anyways? He doesn’t seem like her type—not that I would know. It’s probably not the editor who tore her book to shreds either. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the soft lines of her dainty chin and wondering what Jace had said to her outside before the meeting. From the look of her ashen face, it hadn’t been nice.
Christine’s serene voice floated over the group, bringing his attention to the front of the room. She made her way behind the front desk, her gauzy dress wrapped around her like an ethereal mummy, and rummaged in the drawer beneath the till. “I think what we need is something to calm our nerves.”
She pulled out a small bottle, unscrewed the lid, and proceeded to add a few drops from it to the Buddha-shaped oil diffuser on the edge of the counter. She hit the button on Buddha’s leg and a few seconds later, steam began to waft from his head. A heavy, floral scent filled the room.
Matthew leaned his head toward Anna. “What is that? It smells like my grandmother’s living room.”
Anna pursed her lips. “Lavender, I think? I recognize it from when the Blooming Box brought in lavender bouquets for a wedding last summer. My apartment smelled like this for weeks.”
“The pain of living above a flower shop.”
“I actually quite liked it.”
Matthew gave her a sly look. “You’ll be a wonderful grandma one day.”
Anna lifted her chin. “Not all grandmas are the same. Besides, I happen to like quilts and tea and floral scents.”
Of course she does. I bet her apartment is filled wit
h lace doilies and dried flowers. He envisioned her curled up in an old armchair with her laptop and a steaming mug, her brows knit together in that cute look of concentration he recognized from work. The cold autumn rain pounding outside her window, with her dog sleeping on the rug at her feet. His lips twitched with a smile at the thought.
She was the complete opposite of Brittany, who loved to shop and stay out all night at clubs with her friends. Something Matthew had once enjoyed, but it had slowly lost its charm. By the end of their relationship, Brittany had complained loudly about him wanting to stay home. What’s so wrong with a night in, for once? Playing board games with friends appealed to him much more than sitting at a table in a club, unable to hear his friends speak over the booming beat of dance music.
And staying in with Anna, reading next to her on the couch as she tapped away at her keyboard, her body leaning closer to him as she reached for her tea—
“What do you two think? Anna? Matthew?” Laura’s voice jerked him back to attention. She stood next to the lavender-spewing Buddha, looking at them expectantly. “What kind of Christmas book do you want to read?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Anna waved her hands toward the ladies seated in front of them. “I’m fine with whatever. They can decide.”
“Matthew? You had an interesting idea the other day, a holiday horror novel.”
He nodded. “That’s right. Silent Night by John Glover. Tagline, can Jimmy escape the haunted workshop before he gets sleighed?”
Anna covered her mouth and snorted a laugh, but Laura was the only other person who chuckled.
Tough crowd.
“I am not reading horror.” Joanne crossed her arms. “There is no way I’ll even crack the spine of something like that.”
The woman behind Joanne raised her hand in the air. “What about one of those Christmas-themed sweet romances? You know, a nice Nora Roberts or Debbie Macomber book? There are lots to choose from.”
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