“Ugh, you did not mention the amount of manual labor involved in getting your bookstore up and running,” Savy said. She flexed her arm, making her bicep pop. “I’m going to be in the best shape of my life after this.”
“Good, maybe you’ll find a Ryder of your own.”
“No, I am merely passing through,” Savy said. “And don’t you forget it.”
“We’ll see,” Maisy said as she led the way out of their apartment and down to the shop. “We’ll see.”
* * *
• • •
“WE’LL just forget all about it, okay?” Sure, no problem, Ryder thought. He could forget. It was just a couple of kisses. Yeah, right. He’d forget like he’d forget his own name or Perry’s birthday or the number of yards his favorite wide receiver had run to make the game-winning touchdown in last year’s playoff game. Sure, no big deal.
Huh. Who was he kidding? Kissing Maisy was a huge deal. First, because he had barely gotten his mouth on Maisy’s when his good sense had kicked in and he knew he should let go of her, but the damage had been done—twice. Even now, he wanted to kiss her again and again and again.
But it wasn’t fair to Maisy. He’d seen the way she looked at him. She had hearts in her eyes, clearly looking for more than he could give. He had an inability to sustain the romantic relationships in his life. In an effort to save his marriage, he’d read up on emotional detachment disorders as the adult child of an alcoholic. There’d been a checklist in the book. Control freak? Check. Conflict avoidance? Check. Inability to verbalize feelings? Check. On a scale of one to ten with ten being an emotional cripple, he was a solid eight, possibly a nine. Maisy deserved better than that.
“Dad!” Perry nudged his elbow. Lost in thought, Ryder had almost driven right by her school. He checked that the road was clear and cut the wheel sharply, bringing his green truck right up against the curb. They both lurched in their seats and Perry shook her head at him. “You need to get some sleep.”
“Agreed,” Ryder said. They had been moving at a clip since they left Maisy’s, having stopped at their house for breakfast, showers, and a change of clothes. He was low on caffeine and not fully functional. He ran a hand over his face. “See you after school?”
“I’ll go right to Maisy’s to take care of King George,” she said. “Text me about how he is during the day.”
“Okay.”
“Promise.” Perry opened her door and perched on her seat, waiting for his answer.
“I promise.”
“I love you, Dad.” Perry glanced over her shoulder at him and Ryder was struck by how much he loved this kid. He raised his right hand and made the sign language sign for I love you, because he’d never managed to master those three little words even though he felt them all the way to his core, or maybe that was why he couldn’t say them. Putting his emotions out there terrified his inner control freak, who was convinced the words invited tragedy. Perry flashed the sign back at him with a tired smile.
She hopped down, swinging her backpack onto her shoulder. Ryder watched her stride confidently into the building. He sure hoped she took all of that middle school swagger and confidence up to Connecticut with her.
His chest felt tight and he absently rubbed his fist over his sternum. Letting Perry go was going to be the greatest loss of his life, second only to watching his brother, Sawyer, pack up his motorcycle and head out for parts unknown when Ryder married Whitney in preparation for Perry’s arrival. Not a day went by that he didn’t miss his brother and wish that they could have stayed close. He remembered how lost he’d felt without Sawyer, so he could only imagine how much worse letting Perry go was going to be. He really didn’t know how he was going to survive it, but this wasn’t about him. It was about her and giving her all of the opportunities he and his brother, Sawyer, had never had. So what if he cried himself to sleep every night after she left? He was man enough to handle it.
Ryder checked his mirrors and pulled out of the school drop-off lane. He had already called his foreman to rally his crew to meet up at Maisy’s house and begin the renovation. He needed to get his head in the game. Lusting after his client was not the way to handle this project. Period. He had to shut that shit down.
Newly resolved, Ryder drove through Fairdale back to Maisy’s house. Because of the university, the town had a population that surged from fifty thousand to over seventy-five during the school year. It was full of restaurants, bars, and quirky one-of-a-kind shops, the sort that appealed to a large student populace, and it all centered around the expansive town green that hosted a weekly farmer’s market as well as festivals, art shows, and performances in the bandstand year-round. Fairdale had come into its own in the late 1800s, and the old redbrick buildings maintained the integrity of that time.
Ryder found a parking spot on the green across from the Perk Up, the local coffee shop. His timing was perfect as the morning rush had already passed. The smell of ground coffee greeted him as he opened the door. Heaven. The place was all dark wood and exposed brick. Businesspeople and students filled most of the tables, which was fine as he was taking his order to go.
The girl behind the counter wore large round glasses that gave her an owlish appearance. Her brown bib apron had a steaming coffee mug embroidered on it with the name Kara. She smiled at him.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“I’d like three large coffees to go,” he said. Three? Where had that come from? He realized that after the night they had all spent, sleep deprived because of George, he felt it was only polite to bring Maisy and Savannah some coffee. And maybe, just maybe, he was hoping any residual awkwardness between him and Maisy would be dissipated by a hot cup of joe.
He had Kara put the cream and sugar on the side and then he carried the three large cups in a cardboard holder out to his truck. It was going to be another spectacular day in the Smoky Mountains, with a clear-blue sky, warm sun, and cool breeze. It was the perfect day to start his new job; he just had to remember it was a job. Period.
He would treat Maisy like he did any other client. He’d never gotten personally involved with one before and he wasn’t going to do so now. She was a nice lady. She deserved a nice guy who would be there for her. He was not that guy.
With this plan firmly set in his mind, he pulled up in front of the house to find his contractor, Seth Stolowicz, waiting for him. Maisy was standing on the porch, talking to Seth. Ryder could tell by the way she waved her arms at the corner of the house that she was explaining her Idea! for the turret. Judging by the grin on Seth’s face, he thought it was a great Idea!
Seth was a good guy. He was married with four kids, he showed up early, and he worked late. He never complained and he took his work seriously. Perfection was his middle name and he expected the same out of the men he hired. Getting put on a job by Seth meant the work would be hard, but the rewards many, mostly because, in an uncertain economy like building, Seth’s work ethic and quality of craftsmanship meant he was in high demand and his crew would always have a job.
Ryder liked Seth. He’d always liked Seth, but as he grabbed the coffee carrier off the passenger seat and strode across the front yard, a twisty feeling in his gut made him scowl at his right-hand man. Maisy was staring up at Seth—he stood about six-four in his work boots—and was laughing at something he said. For some inexplicable reason, this made Ryder cranky. He told himself it was the lack of caffeine running through his system.
“Mornin’, Seth,” he said. “You’re early.”
Seth shrugged. “I’m always early.”
“Yeah, well.” Ryder didn’t have anything else to say. When Maisy smiled at Seth, Ryder’s crankiness rolled into full-on grumpiness. He turned to Maisy, lifted his coffee out of the holder, and held out the remaining coffee to her. “Here, for you and Savannah.”
She blinked at him from behind her glasses, then she smiled and said, “Th
ank you.” Her smile was wide and warm and blew away his bad attitude like a brisk breeze blowing away a puff of smoke.
“No problem,” he said. He stared at her a moment too long and then took a swig of his hot coffee, hoping the bitter brew would kick-start his common sense. It didn’t. “How’s George?”
“Sleeping,” she said. “We put him in the secret room, so he’d be safely out of the way.”
“Secret room, no kidding?” Seth asked. “I love those.”
“I know, right?” Maisy asked. She danced on her toes and Ryder noticed she was in her flowery sneakers again but today she wore jeans and a blue tank top with a pink-and-blue-plaid shirt over it. Her curls were in wild disarray around her head and she had on a minimal amount of makeup. Adorable. “I didn’t even know the house had a hidden room, and I’ve been coming here since I was born. It’s crazy.”
“Old houses have secrets,” Seth said. He glanced up at the Queen Anne that loomed above them. “I bet we discover all sorts of things about this house.”
“Well, we have our work cut out for us to get to those secrets,” Ryder said.
“What do you mean?” Seth asked.
“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Ryder said. He glanced back at Maisy. “Is Savannah up in the apartment?”
“No, she’s in the room we cleared out for an office, working on her laptop to develop our online profile,” Maisy said. She glanced at Seth. “Has Ryder told you why we’re renovating the place?”
“He said something about a bookshop,” Seth said.
Maisy nodded. “A very specific type of bookshop.”
Seth looked intrigued and Maisy cradled the coffee carrier and gestured for him to follow her into the house. She pushed open the door and they entered the foyer. Ryder noted that since he’d first come here, Maisy had done an amazing job sorting and boxing up what would become her inventory. There was actually room to move now, although stacks of books still lined the walls and it was to one of these stacks that Maisy led them.
She picked up a book with her free hand and held it out to Seth. The cover showed a cowboy sitting on a picnic table in a pasture. He was wearing jeans and white T-shirt and had a cowboy hat over his face. Seth glanced from the book to Maisy and back to the book.
“Remind you of anyone?” she asked. There was a wicked twinkle in her eye.
Seth looked confused and then he grinned. He held up the book next to Ryder’s head and said, “Dude, I had no idea you were a romance novel cover model. Jade is going to freak out.”
“What?” Ryder pulled back and looked at the cover. Dear God, he was dressed exactly like the man on the cover right down to the hat. “Great, now I’m going to have to burn all of my clothes.”
Maisy and Seth burst out laughing. Then she sobered and said, “Don’t do that. Jake Sinclair is one of my absolute favorite heroes. I like that you remind me of him.” Then she turned back to Seth and gestured to all of the books and the boxes and said, “All of these are my great-aunt Eloise’s romance novels, collected over the past fifty years. I’m going to open a shop and find them new homes.”
“All of these?” Seth asked.
“And upstairs, too,” Maisy said. “I haven’t even been able to guestimate how many books there are.”
“So, it’ll be a romance bookstore,” he said.
“Yep.”
Ryder noticed that Maisy was watching Seth’s reaction closely. To his surprise, he found that he was, too. He did not want Maisy’s dream to get squashed or her feelings to get hurt if his foreman put his big boot in it. He needn’t have worried.
“That is brilliant,” Seth declared. “My wife, Jade, reads romance. I swear that woman goes through five books per week. I asked her why she reads so many and she said because when she is emotionally exhausted from giving me and the kids her all, the books fill her up again and give her what she needs to keep going.”
“Aw, that’s so well put,” Maisy said. “So many people just don’t get it. Feel free to take any books you’d like for her.”
Seth glanced down at the book in his hand, but Maisy snatched it. “Except that one. Jake Sinclair is my book boyfriend.”
Seth laughed. “Jade has a few of those.” He leaned in close and said, “I appreciate them helping me out in the romance department, if you know what I mean.”
Maisy laughed and Ryder frowned. Clearly, Seth was more up to speed on the whole romance novel genre than he was. Well, that was going to end today. How could he responsibly design the new space if he wasn’t in the know? He grabbed the cowboy romance out of Maisy’s hand. She looked at him in surprise.
“I have to find out if my doppelgänger is worthy or not,” he said. He tried to sound all casual and he was pretty sure he had Maisy convinced, but one look at the shrewd glint in Seth’s eyes and he knew he wasn’t fooling him one bit. He shoved the novel into his back pocket. “Come on, Seth, I want to show you where we’ll be starting before the rest of the crew gets here.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Seth said.
If there was a teasing note in his voice, Ryder refused to acknowledge it. Honestly, couldn’t a man read a romance novel without people getting all judgy?
Chapter Seventeen
“WHO has King George?” Maisy asked as she hurried into the office. She was trying not to panic but she’d gone into the hidden room to feed him and he wasn’t there.
Savannah looked up from her laptop and said, “Ryder heard him cry on the baby monitor so he went up to check on him. He probably took him up to our apartment to feed him.”
“Oh, but it’s my shift,” Maisy said. The past thirty-six hours had been harried and messy, but they’d found a rhythm with caring for George. She had come to enjoy snuggling the tiny kitten as a nice break from the packing, sorting, and endless debates about the house and how Ryder and his crew were going to carry out her vision.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if you take over,” Savannah said. “The only reason he went was because we didn’t know where you were.”
“Sorry,” Maisy said. “I was on the second floor measuring for shelving. I can’t decide if I want to have shelving units like a library or display the books in shelves along the walls to make it easier to see where customers are.”
“Go with half shelves for the new books, which will separate them from the older volumes,” Savannah said. “Best of both worlds and you can use the tops for displays.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Maisy said. “Excellent. Will you write a note reminding me to ask Jeri how much we have in the budget for shelves?”
“Noted. Also, we could try to find some surplus shelves from bookstores or libraries that don’t need them anymore.”
“Good thought. Note that, too.”
Savannah gave her a thumbs-up, which Maisy took as “you’re dismissed.”
She hurried upstairs to the apartment. Since neither she nor Savannah had anything of value in the apartment, they didn’t keep it locked. She pushed the door open and sure enough, there was Ryder sitting on the couch feeding King George. The tiny kitten was eating like a champ and while he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he was definitely putting up a heck of a fight. He’d even started pooping. A truly momentous occasion. So much so, that when it happened, Maisy was certain it was the single greatest achievement of her life to date.
Ryder had his back to the door and didn’t hear her come in. Maisy paused on the threshold to observe the man and the kitten. It was dumb—she knew that. Since their talk yesterday morning, Ryder had treated her with nothing but friendly respect.
It was appropriate for the professional relationship they shared. Too bad Maisy had less than no interest in a strictly professional relationship with the man. She had told Savannah she was going to try and change Ryder’s mind. She had no idea how to go about it other than to be ever present, not stalking him exact
ly, but rather weaving herself into the fabric of his days.
When Ryder’s voice broke the silence, she thought he was talking to her and it took her a second to realize he was talking to George, reading to him, in fact. She didn’t move, curious to know what he could be sharing with the kitten.
“‘There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it,’” he read. He put the book down and adjusted the bottle George had latched on to. “That’s your namesake they’re talking about, George Wickham. He is a very, very bad man. Look how upset he made Elizabeth. Of course, she’s been so mean to Mr. Darcy, I kind of feel like she deserves it. You’re not going to turn out like Wickham, are you, Little G? I’m guessing no, since as soon as you’re old enough, you’ll be getting your boy parts snipped. Sorry about that, by the way. It’s nothing personal.”
Maisy tried to hold in her laugh, she really did, but when he started commiserating with the little guy about getting neutered, she lost it in one big undignified snort. Ryder’s head whipped around at the noise and he smiled at her. It made his blue eyes brighten and she got the feeling he was happy to see her.
Maisy thought about pretending that she was coughing, but she knew it was useless. Instead, she let the laughter out and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Were you actually reading Pride and Prejudice to him?”
“Yeah,” he said. He held up the book Perry had returned to her. “We started reading it last night. Big fan of Austen, he is.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. I read a chapter or two to him during his feeding and he is out like a light,” Ryder said.
Maisy gave him a horrified look. “Are you calling Austen boring?”
“Not for me,” he said. “But I think it might be a bit over George’s head.”
“Maybe we should be reading him Curious George instead,” Maisy said. She crossed the room and knelt down beside Ryder. Her face was level with the kitten’s. If he knew she was there, he didn’t show it. He kept working on his milk. His tiny paws were stretched out and his claws, the size of needles, were flexing as he kneaded the towel as if he were making kitty biscuits.
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