If only the other half of INK were present.
She tapped the sketch. “So if you can help me with this background—”
“Easy,” Ethan said. “All you’ll need is a mounted pegboard and some hooks. I can even put a couple of display shelves on the pegboard if you want. Mix up the tools and the books.”
“Perfect. And the sign I’ll make up will direct them next door. Did you want to do the coupon thing?”
Ethan nodded. “I’ll do ten percent off for anyone bringing in a book receipt from INK. Certain conditions, blah blah blah. I’ll talk it over with my dad, but the coupon is a great idea.”
“That and the location should keep people out of the big box stores for their projects.”
“Let’s hope so.” Ethan leaned back. “With gardening workshops and the farmers’ market done for the season, things are getting slow downtown. Hard to compete with the chain stores for sales this time of year.”
“You having Rickard’s back for Christmas trees this season?”
He nodded.
Emmie smiled. “Do they still do the hot chocolate?”
“Better believe it. They even have peppermint syrup for the hot chocolate now. They’re gettin’ fancy.”
Tayla rolled her eyes. “This town is a Hallmark card.”
“You love it,” Ethan said. “Don’t lie.”
“God help me, I do.” Tayla curled her lip. “I’ve even stopped playing traffic noises at night to fall asleep.”
“Traffic noises?”
Emmie rose. “Don’t ask. Ethan, can you have this background finished by Sunday?”
“Yeah. Are you going out with Adrian Saroyan?”
Emmie’s head shot up. “What?”
“He said something at Daisy’s. But I thought you were going out with Ox.”
“How did you know I was going out with Ox?” Emmie’s mouth dropped open. “I haven’t… we haven’t—”
“I was down at Supreme getting my tires rotated. Sergio said you and Ox were a thing now.”
Tayla settled back on the couch and grabbed her coffee. “I love how gossipy the men in this town are.”
“We don’t gossip.”
“You totally gossip.”
“Yeah?” Ethan asked. “Is that why I hear you’re suddenly interested in comics?”
Emmie muttered, “Jeremy’s a gossip too.”
“Apparently.” Tayla stood up and walked back to the office. “I have to work.”
“Are you helping my dad with the books later?” Ethan asked. “He has all the receipts organized now.”
“I’m charging you this time!” she yelled.
“Fine!” Ethan smiled at Emmie. “We’ve been trying to pay her for two weeks. She’s a godsend. My dad and computers do not get along.”
“I’m hoping she’ll stay,” Emmie whispered. “If she gets enough bookkeeping clients, she might.”
“Between me and you, Daisy and Jeremy and all the rest of the shops around here, I don’t think she’d have a problem keeping busy if she wants to.”
Emmie’s phone dinged. It was a text from Ox.
Is the shop busy? Call me.
The sinking feeling in her belly told Emmie that Ox wouldn’t be coming in that day. Dammit. Just as she was about to call, the bell above the door chimed and three women walked in with strollers. Friday morning. Story hour.
Emmie plastered on her smile and tucked her phone behind the register before she reached for her battered copy of Strega Nona. The moms began to browse the Tomie dePaola table set up in the children’s section.
She didn’t have time to call Ox. He’d come in when he came in. Emmie had a shop to run.
She was standing in line for her post-story-hour coffee break at Daisy’s when she felt a soft tug on her braid. She turned to see Adrian standing behind her.
“Hey!” She couldn’t stop the smile. “Tugging on my braids? We back in grade school?”
“I did actually try to get your attention, but you were off in your own world.”
“Sorry. Busy morning.”
“Don’t apologize. I know how life gets. Did you know Metlin Lumber Yard is selling?”
“I didn’t. Did they hire you?”
He nodded. “They did.”
“Congratulations!”
“I’d love to celebrate.” He leaned closer. “With dinner maybe? You haven’t called me back.”
Emmie opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out.
Adrian’s smile fell a little. “There’s someone else.”
“I think so?”
He nodded slowly, urging her forward with a hand on her elbow. “Your turn.”
Emmie ordered a cinnamon roll while Daisy shot glances between her and Adrian with wide eyes.
I don’t know, she mouthed silently. Adrian caught her arm before she moved away.
“Grab a table,” he said. “At least have a cup of coffee with me.”
Emmie hesitated.
“Please?”
“Okay.” Emmie grabbed a table in the corner and waited while Adrian took a cup and her cinnamon roll from the girl at the counter. He set both down at the table before he went back to grab her a napkin and a fork.
“So”—he sipped his drink—“someone else moved faster. Fair enough. I couldn’t exactly expect the entire town to ignore a beautiful woman moving back to town and opening a fantastically cool bookshop, could I? It’s my own fault. If I hadn’t come across as such an ass at the beginning, I might have convinced you without the book.”
“Listen, Adrian—”
“Give me a shot,” he said simply. “Are you and this guy exclusive?”
“I don’t know. But I have strong feelings for him. I don’t want to mislead you about that.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But even knowing that, I still want a shot. And if he hasn’t made it clear to you that he only wants to date you and he doesn’t want you dating anyone else, then that’s on him.”
“Adrian—”
“One dinner. If we get halfway through and there’s nothing there, then it’s just a dinner between old friends, right?” Adrian leaned across the table. “I do want to be friends with you. I like you. I’ve always liked you. If this ends up being just dinner between friends, that’s okay with me. But I’m not going to lie. I want it to be more.” He sat back. “I also need to talk to someone about this book, because I’m not too sure about Marianne and Colonel Brandon. I feel like there’s some odd, paternalistic thing going on there, right?”
Emmie smiled. “Maybe.”
“It can’t just be me that’s weirded out by that.”
“Fine!” She folded her hands. “I will have dinner with you—as friends—but I think that’s all it’s going to be. And I want to pay for my half. It’s not a date, Adrian. I’m not that nimble. Whatever is going on with me and Ox—”
“So it is Ox.” Adrian had a wry smile on his face. “The hovering makes sense now.”
“What?”
“At the opening. He was practically hovering over you the entire night. I wanted to talk to you, but—”
“He knew I was nervous.”
“You didn’t look nervous. You looked amazing.” Adrian cocked his head. “I don’t really know the guy, but it surprises me you want to be with someone who’s so overprotective.”
“He’s not overprotective.” Was he?
Adrian lifted his hands. “Like I said, I don’t know him. I’m sure he’s great.”
He was great. Ox was great. And Adrian was right; he didn’t know Ox. Emmie did.
Didn’t she?
“Sunday night,” Adrian said. “Dinner as friends at Marley’s. We talk about Jane Austen. I flirt with you as you try to resist my charms. It’s a date.” He swiped a finger through the icing that had dripped over the side of her plate. “And I have to get back to work.” He licked the icing off his finger. “Damn, that’s good.”
“It’s not a date.”
Adr
ian backed away, still licking his lips. “It’s a friend date.”
“Friend dates aren’t a thing.”
He nodded. “I’m pretty sure they are. Bye, Em.”
“Not a thing!”
Seconds after Adrian was out the door, Daisy was at her table. “What are you doing?”
Emmie closed her eyes and covered her face. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ox slid his phone back in his pocket. Four texts to Emmie. No calls back.
Dammit.
She was probably busy. And she hated talking on the phone. Friday was one of her busiest days, and it wasn’t as if she ever sat around. If she wasn’t talking to customers, she was ordering books or contacting other local businesses or organizing book clubs or writing newsletters. Friday morning was story hour. The store was probably packed. He loved seeing her read with the little kids and usually made an excuse to be there even if it was before his normal hours. This rockslide was kicking his ass.
Cary backed up the loader with another bucketful. A sudden rainstorm in the mountains had brought a rush of mud and rocks down in the upper pasture, killing one of the steers while also taking out a good forty yards of fencing. They couldn’t fix it without clearing out the rocks and also shoring up the hillside. Melissa and Cary had taken the lead on the project, leaving Ox to juggle the rest of the ranch with his mom.
It was hard to remember his mother was in her late sixties when she still worked a ten-hour day. He’d been nearly out the door to Metlin that morning when she’d had a dizzy spell. His mom claimed she was fine, but Ox wanted her to go to the doctor. She’d refused so far, so Ox was trying to get his sister on board. He’d ridden Melissa’s horse out to the pasture since Melissa had taken the truck and the trailer with supplies to repair the fence.
Ox stood next to his sister as they watched their neighbor work the tractor. “Has Mom had dizzy spells before?”
Melissa frowned. “Every now and then, but you know mom. She’s always going ninety miles an hour. It’s probably just age. I need to hire someone to help around the farm.”
“I can help more.”
“You have your own business.” She glanced at him, wiping a smear of mud across her cheek. “Speaking of, why aren’t you there?”
“’Cause Mom practically fell over in the kitchen?”
“She says she’s iron deficient.”
“Bullshit, Lissa. The woman eats red meat five times a week.”
Cary yelled for Melissa, who went running across the field to find out why he’d stopped.
A few more minutes and they’d cleared enough of the rocks to repair the fence. Cary and Melissa started working, forgetting all about Ox, who mounted Melissa’s mare, Moxie, and headed back to the house.
His mom was taking a nap when he arrived. He checked in on her and closed the door to her bedroom before he went to put Moxie in the stable and collect the eggs his mom hadn’t had time to grab that morning. Melissa needed to put her foot down with Abby. When he was Abby’s age, he was doing twice as many chores.
Not your kid, Ox.
He had a sudden vision of Emmie cuddled under a blanket with a book and a little girl with red-brown hair, whispering as she read a story.
Fuck him, he was so gone for the chick. And he was completely fucking it up. He really wanted her to call him back. He didn’t want to text her that something was going on with his mom. He wanted to hear her voice. He’d been going to call the night before, but he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Then this morning, he’d been rushing to finish chores and get out of the house. Then his mom had fallen and he’d freaked out.
He was fucking it up. His clients would be cool, but Emmie?
She liked schedules and spreadsheets. She kept a damn time card for herself and didn’t close the shop until precisely eight on the dot. It was fucking adorable until he had to think about the ranch. Cows didn’t keep time cards. The weather didn’t shut down. Ranch life would drive Emmie crazy.
You’re not a rancher, remember?
He kicked the mud off his boots before he entered the barn. He sure felt like a rancher that morning. And four unanswered texts were taunting him.
Maybe he should back off. They were only starting out, after all. They’d gone on a couple of dates and they’d been amazing, but Emmie was a cautious girl, and he was supposed to be taking his time, right? As for the business, he was her tenant, not her partner. It was one of the reasons he wanted to work for himself. So that he could make his own schedule.
He’d wait for Emmie to text him. He’d be able to make it into INK tomorrow, and then he’d fill her in. If she called, she called, but he didn’t want to assume she was spending all day thinking about him. Not when she had a life. He wasn’t some inconsiderate fuck who expected his girl’s world to revolve around him.
Ox glanced at his phone again. He tried to convince himself that the unanswered texts didn’t mean anything. He and Emmie were fine. The shop was fine.
His mom… was not fine.
Ox paced in the emergency room of Metlin General Hospital with Abby sleeping on his shoulder, his adrenaline still racing from the drive into town. It was a fucking miracle he hadn’t been pulled over.
“Mr. Oxford, can you tell me when her symptoms started?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Uh… this morning?”
“Was that the first nosebleed?”
“I don’t… I don’t know. She didn’t have a nosebleed this morning. Her nose started bleeding at the dinner table. She had other symptoms earlier in the day. She was dizzy. Had a headache. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yes. You’re very lucky,” the nurse said. “I know it might not seem like that right now, but you are. Your mother had symptoms that brought her into the hospital to get checked out. Many people with high blood pressure have no symptoms at all.”
“Right.” He didn’t feel lucky. He felt fucking panicked. Melissa was back with his mom while he was out talking with the nurse and taking care of Abby. His mom’s nose had started bleeding at the dinner table. Her eyes had rolled back and she’d slumped forward. Abby had started crying, and Melissa had immediately jumped into action. They’d driven their mom into town in the truck, breaking every speed limit in the county while Melissa was on the phone with the hospital. Ox and Melissa both knew waiting for an ambulance to get to the ranch would take too long.
“Is there any news yet?” Ox asked. “Has her blood pressure stabilized?”
“I believe so, but this kind of attack spurs a number of different tests to check for related conditions. The doctors are going to want to check her heart especially and make sure there are no cardiac problems related to her blood pressure. She’ll be here for a while. Do you know when her last cardiac stress test was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Her last physical?”
“She never tells me about her doctor’s appointments.” He rubbed Abby’s back. “You might have better luck asking my sister.”
“Okay.”
Ox took a seat, giving his arms a rest. Abby was a little thing, but carrying her for hours hadn’t been easy. The little girl must have remembered more about her father’s death than they realized. She was shaking as soon as they entered the emergency room and hadn’t said a word since. Melissa was taking care of their mom, so Ox did the only thing he could think of. He held his niece like he had when she’d been a tiny girl and Calvin had been the one in emergency surgery.
Not the same. Not the same. His mom was going to be fine.
High blood pressure was common, right? Treatable. Hell, Cary had high blood pressure, and he wasn’t even fifty. It was genetic. His mom probably just needed to eat less eggs and stop using lard in her pie crusts.
Abby let out a huge sigh, and Ox felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He couldn’t reach it without disturbing Abby, so he ignored it. Cary would call Melissa. Ox wanted to call Emmie, but what could she do? He’d just be d
umping a whole ton of worries on her when she had plenty of her own to deal with. She’d lost her grandmother less than a year ago. She didn’t need to worry about Ox’s mom. He’d explain later and she’d understand.
He was tempted to call and see if Abby could sleep at the shop, but it was after midnight. He didn’t want Abby waking somewhere where Ox wasn’t, and he didn’t want to leave Melissa and his mom. So he leaned against the wall, held Abby, and closed his eyes, hoping he could get a little sleep.
It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He’d make sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Four days. Did four days with nothing more than cryptic texts qualify as ghosting? Emmie could tell something was going on, but Ox wasn’t sharing, nor had he shown up for work in four days. The longer it dragged on, the more resentful she grew. The more her mind went in circles.
This was it. This was what Ginger had been talking about. Ox was going to get pulled back to the ranch, and she was going to be out a tattoo artist a month after she started the bookshop, right at the busiest part of the retail year. And whatever had been between them… that was probably history too.
“I feel like you’re not really here,” Adrian said from across the table. “Everything okay?”
Emmie forced a smile. “Fine. I’m fine. Sorry, thinking about work. And rain. I’m so glad it’s raining, aren’t you? We really need the rain.” She picked at the bread on her plate. They’d ordered wine, but she hadn’t decided on a meal.
“We do.” Adrian glanced out the window of Marley’s. It was the newest restaurant downtown, started by a chef who’d moved from Chicago. It was small plates and wine and great cheese. Emmie had been excited to go when she and Tayla talked about it. Going with Adrian was less exciting and more confusing.
“We’re talking about the weather.” Adrian smiled slowly. “Surely we can do better than that.”
“Work?” She shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk about work.”
“I know how you feel. I’m the same way, but you have to pull back. It’s one of the hardest things about working for yourself.”