Page 47 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

My chest dips again as my eyes follow his hands. How is he this built? He spends all of his time inside, surrounded by words. I guess he does have to carry a lot of heavy boxes.

The notion of Oliver hefting cartons of books around is making it challenging for me to look away from his chest. I clear my throat. “Well, that’s a very nice outfit.” I blush despite my best efforts to play it cool.

“What are you going to wear?” He’s gazing intently at me in a way that’s really not helping me brush away the thoughts humming through my mind.

“Um. Maybe a dress?”

His mouth sweeps up into a smile. “Curtains?”

I giggle. “Maybe.”

He’s still looking at me like he’s really eager to see my curtain dress tonight, and I think his knee has moved ever so slightly closer to mine on the bench. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Maisie had in mind when she sent us out together to hang up flyers.

Or…God, maybe it was. “Show Ivy around town, Oliver. Show her all the secret spots, Oliver.” He is basically like her grandson. Is she trying to set us up?

“Should we get going?” My head is spinning, and I need to remove myself from this situation before I spiral further into a pit of wanting. Or into a pit of embarrassment, since I’ve evidently allowed myself to be wholly manipulated by a septuagenarian matchmaker.

Oliver slides the sleeve of his Henley back to reveal a silver watch, then he nods. “Yeah, it’s almost seven. I think we’ve adequately obeyed the ‘Don’t come back for at least two hours’ rule.”

“You think I’m sassy,” I joke as we stand up. “But what about Maisie?”

“Oh, she’s definitely the worst offender,” he returns.

Our conversation turns to the best flavor at a local ice cream shop we’re passing (Oliver says it’s blueberry pie; I insist it’s cookies and cream; he retaliates by reminding me that I owe him ice cream for the library books), and then we’re back at Shoreline.

We help Maisie ring out the last few customers, then start the closing protocol. Oliver looks positively triumphant when I remember how to shut down the register on my own.

“See?” he says. “I knew you could do it.”

I rebuff him with, “I just had a good teacher.”

Maisie sits in her chair, grinning maniacally over the top of the James Patterson book Oliver mocked earlier in the day.

Okay, now I’m fairly certain that she’s trying to set us up.

When the shop’s all set for the night, Oliver and I head for the door.

“I’m going to hang around and finish this Patterson,” Maisie says, still sitting behind the front desk. “Have a good night!”

The air feels thick when it’s just Oliver and me outside the store.

“I’ll see you in a bit?” I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater. I mentally pat myself on the back for remembering to bring one this morning.

“Yup.” Oliver runs his hand through his hair. “Good luck with Cruella.”

I crack a grin. “I thank you. I’ll need that luck.”

“Later, Ivy.”

thirteen

As it turns out, I need Oliver’s luck more than I realized. Though things don’t appear all that bad, at first.

Laurel’s deeply focused on giving herself a hot pink manicure when I get home.

“Hey,” I say cautiously, setting my bag down next to her. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” she replies, without looking up.