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A smile touches her mouth, and she starts to lean closer, but stops herself. “I’m serious. I want to be partners with you in Dogeared. I want to keep making plans for the bookshop and finding fun ways to make it better and help it grow.”
I slide my hands over her waist. “What about your art?”
“I like doing both. I’ll keep making covers for as long as that lasts. One day, maybe I’ll branch out into other things. But I don’t want to make art one hundred percent of the time.” She runs her hands under the inside edges of my sport coat, sliding them along my chest. One hand pauses over my pounding heart. “I don’t want to turn my art into my job and wind up resenting it. I want to do enough to keep it new and interesting and keep on loving it, but not so muchIburn out.”
“That’s smart. I accept your offer. We should be partners.”
“You can’t just accept my offer. I have to buy you out or something.”
“Well.” I drop my voice low. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
“That’s naughty. You’re naughty.” Her grin somewhat dampens her scolding.
“I didn’t specify anything. We’ll sort it all out. I just want to be sure that this is whatyouwant.”
“It is. As long as you need me, I’m staying.”
I tug her closer. “Then you’re going to be here for a very long time.”
She melts against me, kissing me with every ounce of her bright enthusiasm. Then she jolts back. “We need to shake on it and be professional for a change.”
I shake her offered hand. Very professional.
And then we stay in the bookshop for a long time, being very unprofessional.
Epilogue
GEORGIA
It’s not us. It’s not. They’re fictional characters, and their names are Ryder and Lily. He’s trying to save his family’s struggling Christmas tree farm, and she’s the attorney trying to foreclose before Christmas Day.
Yes, Ryder wears glasses and has messy hair like Miles. And yes, Lily’s wavy blond hair is somewhat familiar, but her fun sweater does not make herme.
I stare at the illustration on my tablet, searching for some way to make it clear I wasn’t inspired by me and Miles. I am not going to be so love drunk that I put us on every cover where it even remotely makes sense. I sketch out work boots on him and put spike heels on her.
There. Very unlike us.
“Hey.” Miles stops right beside my chair and leans in close to inspect my work. He kisses the top of my head. “We look great.”
We’re hanging out in Dogeared after closing like wesometimes do. He’s deep in drafting his next book and likes to work in the quiet of the bookshop. The only distraction in here is me.
And honestly, I can be pretty distracting. But I try to let him work. Most of the time.
I save the file and close the app. “It’s not us.”
“I know.” He holds out a hand to me. “The spring samples Bailey left are cool now. Do you want to try them?”
“Um, try delicious treats? Don’t mind if I do.”
In the back, Bailey’s left us mini versions of six desserts to try. We always carry a few staples in the café, like Miles’s mom’s cinnamon rolls and vanilla scones, but they’ve been changing up the menu every few months, too. Give the treats case a little razzle-dazzle every now and then.
It looks like she’s switching from the dark chocolate muffins and warm, spicy loaf cakes we had all winter to bright, light lemon bars and strawberry turnovers. I try each one, hoping they don’t expect me to rule any of them out. They’re all delicious.
It’s only after I’ve taste-tested every one—and then some—that I realize Miles isn’t taste-testing with me. I rinse my hands in the sink and head to the front.
“What are you—” I stop on the other side of the curtain.
The lights are out, but candles glow throughout the bookshop. I have the ridiculous thought that candles aren’t safe next to this many books, right before realization stops my breath in my lungs.
