Page 36 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

Oliver clears his throat. “I mean, you are a librarian, after all.”

For now, I think, before I can stop myself. But all I say is, “This is true.”

Now he makes eye contact, which continues to be too intense for me because of how bright his blue eyes are. This is a professional setting, I remind myself. It’s okay to look at him. Professionally. I take a deep breath and try, but it’s still making my stomach flip-flop.

“Typically, we do about 20 staff picks at a time. Obviously, it would be better if we had more staff; it might add to the legitimacy of the whole endeavor.” He casts me a rueful glance. “But I figured if you and I each did half, that would work pretty well.” Oliver surveys my face hopefully. “What do you think?”

I nod. “Sounds great. There’s nothing I love more than raving to people about great books.”

Oliver’s eyes shine even brighter when he smiles at me. “I’ve noticed that.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. Whatever coffee he drank this morning, it seems like I drank it, too. “So, should we each take ten?” I gesture to the papers on the desk.

“You can take ten. I’ve already done one of mine.” He grabs two pens and hands me one.

“Oh? And which book caught your attention this month?”

He’s looking at me like I might be a little slow, and when he says “Ella Enchanted,” I realize that I probably am. He did just finish it. Of course it would be top-of-mind.

I’m also feeling a very particular way about this adult man being confident enough to endorse a preteen fairy tale on a note card. Especially when I was the one who recommended it to him, and when he read it in just two days. Like he actually liked it. Like he actually values my opinion.

How close we’re standing behind the counter, staring at these notecards, is definitely not helping, either. I’m leaning on my elbows, one of which is just inches away from his Henleyed arm, and I’m very distracted by the warmth that’s radiating my way.

I really, really need to get a grip.

“Wow,” I manage. “I’m glad it made such an impression.”

Oliver tosses me a smile that I think a romance author would call “roguishly charming” and says, “I thought you’d like that.”

What. Is. Happening.

I decide to ask.

“Hey,” I hedge. “It seems like you’re being…nicer to me today. Than when we met.”

He stares at me blankly. To be fair, I guess I didn’t really ask him a question.

“I just…” I’m scrambling for purchase and failing miserably. “It’s nice, that’s all.”

“Being nice is nice,” he agrees, clearly mocking me.

“Did something change?” My heart is racing like this is an actual conversation that matters.

Oliver shrugs. “Not sure what you’re talking about. Come on, let’s go check the New Releases for books to review.” And with that, he brushes past me, turning back to grab my arm. He leads me out from behind the counter.

I’m working very hard not to notice that his hand lingered on my sleeve a good 15 seconds longer than it needed to when he says, “So, what other books do you recommend?”

And that’s when my mind goes utterly blank, because honestly, there’s nothing more attractive to me than a cute guy asking for book advice.

I’m fully aware of how incredibly nerdy that sounds.

“Um,” I begin, willing my brain to start functioning normally. “I really love anything by Jane Austen, but I’m assuming you haven’t read those.”

“Ivy,” Oliver fixes me with an amused look, “I spend about 75 percent of my waking hours alone in this bookstore, especially during the wintertime, when we get an average of two customers per day. I’ve read every single Jane Austen novel. Persuasion, twice.” He shakes his head. “Don’t like Pride and Prejudice, though.”

“Interesting,” I muse. “How about Gone with the Wind? That’s one of my favorites.”

“You would like that,” he replies, pulling a hardcover off the shelf and scanning the back cover.