by Emma Hart
Holley leaned in. “Damn it. How do we do that?”
“You use some pliers to squeeze it back together.”
“I don’t have pliers.”
Sighing, I handed her back the bell. “Give me two minutes. I’ll run down to the hardware store, grab some, then come fix it for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can call my dad. Or Josh or Colton or Kai.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m here, aren’t I? It’s a simple job.”
She opened her mouth, presumably to argue, then gave up. “Oh, fine. I’d offer to go, but I have Tegan in the back room.”
“The baby?”
“No, the model,” she shot back. “Yes, the baby. Ivy and Kai are picking up the keys to their new place today, so I said I’d watch her while they do all the grown-up stuff and start moving some of their stuff over.”
“Really? You have a baby? Here?”
She gave me a withering look. “I run a bookstore, not a brothel.”
Right.
That told me.
I adjusted my scarf. “I’ll just, uh, go buy those pliers. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Okay.” She offered me a smile, one that was a little too much on the sardonic side for my liking. “Thanks.”
“It’s no problem.” I returned the smile—albeit a nicer one—and left.
It was a quick trip down the street to the store. I wasn’t sure what size I needed, so I bought a three-pack of long-nosed pliers and took them back to the bookstore.
Holley was busy arranging a table at the front of the store. All the covers were red, and there was a chalkboard on a tabletop easel that bore the words, ‘I can’t remember the title, but the cover was red.’
I laughed. “That’s smart.”
She jumped, almost knocking the easel over. “Jesus, we need that bell. I had no idea you were back.”
“You didn’t hear the door?”
“If I’d heard it, do you think I would have jumped?”
“All right, calm down.” I swung a chair around to the front door. I flipped the sign quickly to show ‘closed’ so that nobody would open it and knock me over, then took off my coat. It was hot as hell in this store, presumably because of the baby, and I was going to melt if I kept my coat and sweater on.
I put my coat over another chair and pulled off my sweater, resting it on top of the coat. “Do you have any scissors to open this?” I held up the packet of pliers. They were wrapped in awful plastic, the kind you needed a machete to get into.
“Behind the counter.” She pointed in the general direction of it.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Let’s see,” she mused as I went in search of the scissors. “Kinsley is at the senior center with the new releases. We took a library cart in a couple of weeks ago and they loved it, so we’ve said we’ll do it every couple of weeks. It means they can shop without going out in, well, that.” She flicked her hand in the direction of outside. “And Saylor is clearing her crap out of her spare bedroom. I think you really hooked her when you mentioned Dylan was British.”
I pulled the pliers from the package with a laugh. “Yeah, something told me that might work. You will be here on Saturday, right?”
“Yeah, Saylor told me the plan. Kinsley is off this weekend, but I’ll be here in case they hit it off and she wants to show him the spare room.”
“I bet the room won’t be all she’ll want to show him,” I said wryly, walking over to the door.
“I wish I could disagree,” Holley said, turning to watch me. “I’d ask you if he’s hot, but I already know you don’t care. Is one of these coffees for me?”
“No, I bought myself two but asked Johanna to write your name on one.” I looped the link through the catch on the bell and pulled the pliers from my back pocket. “I guess as far as it goes I would consider Dylan hot. He’s a personal trainer so he’s in good shape, he’s got black hair, bit of a beard. He gets plenty of attention wherever we go, usually after he’s started talking.”
“I’ll bet.” She sat on the edge of the table and cradled her cup. “Do you have a picture of him?”
“Why? Are you going to meet him first and hope you can get his attention instead of Saylor?” I surveyed my handiwork and gave the bell a little tug. It stayed on, so I jumped off the chair and grinned at Holley.
“No,” she replied, unbothered. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that most people pale in comparison to Saylor,” she said dryly. “It’s her larger than life personality. And her boobs.”
“Can’t say I’ve paid them much attention.” I flipped the sign on the door and put the chair back where it belonged, then opened the door to show her the bell worked.
“Thank you.” She gave me a closed-mouth smile from behind the takeout cup. “Well, they’re hard to miss. I just want to know what he looks like so I can piss her off.”
“Why would that piss her off?” I grabbed my own coffee. “Why do you want to piss her off?”
“She ate my muffin.”
“She ate your muffin.”
“She ate my muffin,” she affirmed. “I was saving it for today, but she ate it. And I know she’s dying to know what Dylan looks like, so if I can find out, I get to really get under her skin.”
I stared at her for a moment. “You guys all have the weirdest friendships.”
“And you get to be a part of it all again for a few months. Aren’t you thrilled?”
“Thrilled is a strong word.” I put down the coffee and got my phone from my coat pocket. “I can pull up his Facebook. I think there are some photos on there.”
She jumped off the table and came over to me, peering over my shoulder. I typed his name into the search bar on the app and brought up his profile, then tapped on his picture.
“Damn.” Holley took my phone from me to get a closer look.
Then she tapped off the profile picture and started scrolling his actual profile.
“Do you mind?” I asked when she sat down at the table. “That’s my phone.”
“He’s not,” she said. “There’s no way she’s going to be able to resist this guy. Oh man, I am gonna annoy her so much.”
Seriously.
The fucking weirdest friendship ever.
“Yeah, right, thanks.” I plucked my phone out of her hands and closed the app, then put the phone in my pocket. “Are you done?”
“You took the phone, so I guess so.” She looked up. “What? Are you all bothered because I think he’s hot?”
I stared at her. “You know, I came here for a reason, but I can’t remember what that was.”
“You are!” She gasped and stood up, her eyes following me as I grabbed my coffee from the counter. “Oh, my God.”
“You sound shocked,” I said dryly. “I thought it was obvious the other night that I feel something for you.”
She stopped. “Well, it is now.”
“Holley.”
“What? I don’t like hints. Just say what you need to say.” She waved a hand, then folded her arms across her chest. “I just didn’t think me thinking your friend was hot would get you all bothered.”
“I’m not bothered.”
“You look bothered.”
“I’m not bothered.”
“You look bothered.”
“Holley.”
“Sebastian.” She stared at me. “I can do this all day. I really don’t have anywhere else I can go.”
“I do.”
“And you’re welcome to go whenever you please.”
This was hard work. She was hard work. “Don’t you think we need to talk?”
“If you think two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of my bookstore when I have a sleeping newborn in the back room is a good time to talk, then sure. Go wild.” Holley held out her hands expectantly. “I can think of better times, but—”
“Well, corralling you to talk isn’t the easiest thing, is it?”
“Oh, that’s a lo
w blow.”
“Is it?”
“No. Not really. It’s annoyingly true.” She sighed. “Look, in all seriousness, I know we need to talk.”
I waited.
She said nothing else.
“And?” I prompted her after a moment of silence.
“And I don’t really want to,” she admitted, much to my surprise.
Not that she didn’t want to talk.
I was surprised she admitted it.
“I know, but you don’t have a choice.” I walked over to her and stopped in front of her. I leaned down and rested my hands on her knees, making it so that our eyes were level. “Holley, I let you do that once before, and it cost me my best friend. All over one stupid little misunderstanding that could have been cleared up in thirty seconds.”
She looked at me, something indiscernible in her eyes.
“I don’t want to do that again,” I said softly. “Eight years is a long time, but it feels like nothing at all. It feels like we’ve talked every day. And I can’t just let you ignore something just because it scares you.”
“Who says I’m scared?”
“Your endless refusal to talk, your biting comments designed to push me away, and your little sassy moments that honestly endear me to you more than anything.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Bit rich coming from you, but I’ll talk it.” I smirked, but I dropped it quickly. “I have feelings for you, Holley. I just don’t know what they are. I don’t know if they’re left over from years ago and they’re nostalgic bullshit that’s a waste of both our time or if they’re something real.”
She swallowed.
“And I know you feel something, too, or you wouldn’t put a wall up every single time I try to talk about it.”
“A wall is a bit of an overstatement.”
“See? Most people would deny that if it weren’t true, but you just deflect.”
“I don’t know what you want me to admit to you. Seb, the last time I decided to tell you how I felt, it ended badly. I guess…” She sighed and looked away.
“You guess what?”
Reluctantly, she met my gaze again. “I guess I like having you back in my life and I’m afraid that if we do anything to change this—” She motioned between us. “—Then I could lose you all over again.”
“Holley, I swear. No matter what, we’ll always be—” I was cut off by the bell over the door. With a sigh, I stepped back and looked over my shoulder.
“Mrs. Holland!” Holley jumped up and smoothed out her sweater. “What can I do for you today?”
The woman I didn’t recognize looked between us. “Are you busy, Holley? I can come back.”
“No, don’t be silly. Sebastian was just leaving.” Holley shot me a look. “How can I help you?”
I guess I’ll be going, then.
I grabbed my sweater and pulled it over my head. Mrs. Holland was just explaining a series to Holley that her friend had told her about when a piercing scream ripped through the store.
Holley froze. “That’s my niece. Sorry.”
“I got her.” I shoved my arm through the hole and tugged my sweater down over my stomach.
“It’s fine, I—”
“I got her,” I repeated, scooting past the older woman in the direction of the back room.
“Are you sure?”
“Nope. Never held a baby in my life!” I called as I slipped behind a bookshelf to reach the door.
I had no idea if she heard me.
I could hear nothing but the screeching of the baby.
Tegan was screaming from inside what looked like a pop-up playpen. She was lying both under and on what looked like the softest blankets known to man, and her pacifier was on the blanket next to her head.
I reached into the pen and, careful to support her little head, picked her up. I really had never held a baby before, but I knew how to, so I held her against me and gently rocked her.
Her crying calmed, especially when I reached down for the pacifier and put it in her mouth. Little sucking noises filled the air. They were the cutest sounds I’d ever heard, and I could barely believe they were coming from the same baby who’d just been screaming blue murder.
But she’d stopped.
And thank God.
Because I had no idea what I was doing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – HOLLEY
rule eighteen: babies should not mix with baseball players. not if you’re trying to keep the fake, fake.
I smiled at Mrs. Holland as she left with a spring in her step and a tote bag full of books slung over her shoulder.
The woman was one of our best customers, but that was probably because it always felt like she was never going to leave.
Today had been no different. Not only had we started off with my favorite game where she explained a plot and I had to figure out what she was talking about, we only had book one in stock. Naturally, she wanted the entire eight-book series, so I had to add them to my order. Then she wanted to know if I had any other books similar to it in stock, and we’d somehow ended up in the gardening section so she could get prepared for spring.
It was almost Thanksgiving.
Usually I didn’t mind. She was harmless and, honestly, we’d all been down those rabbit holes in a bookstore. It just wasn’t all that convenient when I had a needy newborn in the back room.
I locked the door to the store, slid the bolt across, and flipped the sign to say we were closed. If Seb had never held a baby before, there was sure as hell no way he knew what to do with one, so God only knew what was going on in there.
I grabbed my coffee and carried it through to the staff room with me. I opened my mouth to announce myself, but the view through the door made me stop.
Seb was standing in the middle of the room, cradling Tegan, and feeding her a bottle.
In case you didn’t hear that explosion, it was just my ovaries.
No big deal.
One day, I might look back at this very moment and recognize it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The one that meant I was well and truly fucked. That, despite all my best efforts, there was no more running to be done here.
I did have feelings for Sebastian. I needed to figure out what they were, where they’d come from, and if they were merely feelings that needed closure or if they were ones that didn’t want anything of the sort.
Because watching him love on my niece, on a baby I loved more than anything, gripped hold of my heart and twisted it so tightly I felt it in every single beat.
“Lookin’ good, baller.”
He jerked his head up, a smile tugging at his lips as he rocked her. “Shh. You’ll disturb her.”
Oh, my heart.
My ovaries.
My womb.
All of it.
It was all… poof.
“Um,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I think she’s asleep, but Google said I had to burp her.”
I touched my fingertips to my lips and stepped into the room, depositing my cup on the coffee table. “You fed her?”
“Yeah, she wouldn’t settle, so I had to Google.” He pulled the bottle from her mouth slowly and handed it to me. “She’s not wet, she hasn’t shit, and I think she’s too young for teeth. Yeah?”
“Not even close,” I confirmed, fighting a smile.
“So I figured she was hungry. I found a bottle in the fridge, so I put it in hot water like it said and checked the temperature. It might have been a little cold, but I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“You could have just come and gotten me. Mrs. Holland would have come back.”
“No, it’s fine. We figured it out, right, Teegs?”
Tegan’s lips popped as if to confirm they had, indeed, figured it out.
“Do you want me to burp her?” Man, the butterflies in my stomach really had to get lost.
“Hey, no, you don’t get the credit for this. What do I do?�
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“Are you sure?” I double-checked. “Think about this for a moment.”
“I’m sure. Now help me.”
“Okay, fine.” If she threw up on him, I was going to laugh so hard. “So you need this.” I took the burp cloth and used it to cover his shoulder. “Then you sort of put her upright, rest her head on your shoulder, and gently pat and rub her back until she burps. Or farts.”
“This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.” He did as I’d said, and I couldn’t help but smile as my sleeping niece rested her tiny head on his very broad shoulder. “Like this?”
“Just like that. It can take a few minutes but sometimes if you bounce lightly, it helps.”
“Right.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. “Like this?”
“Sway a bit. Yep, yep, that’s it.”
He looked a little uncertain, and he peered down at her on his shoulder. “She’s not going to throw up on me, is she?”
“Maybe,” I said honestly. “That’s what the cloth is for.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s thick enough to stop whatever might come out of her going on my sweater.”
“It’s not.” I sat down on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other.
“You look like you’re enjoying the idea of that a bit too much.” He eyed Tegan again.
“I offered.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the camera. “Smile.”
“What are you—oh, no you don’t.” He turned away from me.
“Please! I’m sending it to Ivy!”
“Fine.” He moved over and sat next to me on the sofa, keeping Tegan in place. She still hadn’t burped, and I just knew I was going to have to take her from him to get it done soon.
“Smile,” I whispered.
He tried to glare at me, but I grinned so stupidly he had no choice but to let his smile break free.
I snapped the photo.
“Does my butt look big in it?”
“About as big as your ego,” I replied teasingly. I tapped out a quick message to Ivy and attached the picture.
“Thanks. Is she done yet?”
I shook my head. “Pass her here.” I reached over and took Tegan from him, including the cloth, and put her in the same position he’d just held her in. Within thirty seconds, she’d burped with only a little spit.