Page 69 of The Lost Book of First Loves

Tess made a disappointed face. “Oh, man. I would love that. Seriously. But I promised my brother I would watch his kids while he and Abbi go to a wedding out of town. I can’t bail on them.”

“It seems weird to think of Abbi and Tom having kids, doesn’t it?”

“Right? Seems like only yesterday he was my annoying younger brother, always trying to read our texts over my shoulder and make dumb comments on every single one of my social media posts.”

“Remember that time he told Lucas Porter you had a crush on him?”

“While I was standingright there. Yes. Still one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.” Tess grinned. “Now Tom is a husband and a dad of two adorable kids, along with being a business owner of a window-washing company. He really turned things around from his wild youth.”

Tom had been the epitome of a teasing younger brother. Ali knew he had married right out of high school to the girl he dated since eighth grade. He was two years younger than they were and already had a growing family. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it.

She had always envied Tess her big family. Her friend was the middle of five, all of them close. The Hutchins house had always been noisy, chaotic, messy and wonderful.

As an only child, Ali had never doubted her parents loved her. She had been showered with attention, supported in every endeavor, given incredible opportunities. Still, she had often wished for a sibling, someone who would always be there for her, especially now that her parents were gone.

Maybe that was why she was so focused on creating a strong bond with June, to make up for all she had missed when she was a kid.

“Excuse me,” a customer interrupted them. “Where are your craft books? I’m looking for a specific knitting pattern that I can’t seem to find anywhere.”

“They are two shelves over and toward the back,” Tess said. “Here. I’ll show you.”

As Tess guided the customer away, Ali returned to shelving books.

She carried several more titles to the new-releases table and grabbed a few more to place on an endcap featuring staff-recommended reads, highly visible from her favorite cozy reading area of the bookstore.

As she was heading back to the front of the store, the bell on the door tinkled.

Ali looked up with a smile of greeting and felt her heartbeat give a little kick when she saw Clint Maclean walk through. What was he doing here? Clint didn’t strike her as someone who spent a lot of time in bookstores, but maybe she was making unfair generalizations.

His gorgeously rugged features beneath his Stetson lit up when he spotted her. “Ali. Hey!”

“Hi, Clint.” Fighting the urge to check her reflection in the window to make sure her lipstick hadn’t smeared, she walked closer to him.

“Welcome to Bridger Books. Can I help you find something?”

“I’m not much of a reader,” he said.

That didn’t come as a huge surprise to her and she had a sudden memory of once helping Clint pass their sophomore-year English class as a sort of informal tutor. She had helped him edit and basically rewrite two or three important essays.

“Don’t get me wrong, I read,” he clarified. “But mostly farm and ranch journals. I do like to listen to audiobooks while I’m working out in the fields. I’m a big fan of thrillers and crime fiction, especially when they’re set in the mountains.”

She had to admit she was glad to hear that. She wasn’t sure she could have an unrequited crush on someone who didn’t read, no matter how gorgeous he was.

“Audiobooks absolutely count as reading. You’re only taking in the story a different way.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I love getting lost in the story. Sometimes I’m so into it, I stay out on the tractor until past dark.”

“We don’t sell a lot of audiobooks,” she said. “Most people download them through apps on their phones.”

“That’s what I do,” he said. “I have a subscription to a service, but I also find a lot of them from my library.”

“I get it.”

She loved libraries, she truly did. They were fantastic for those on a limited budget or to introduce readers to new authors. She used her own library often. But she also knew small bookstores like her grandmother’s couldn’t survive without people actually coming in and spending money.

Tess and the customer she had been helping, now holding an armload of knitting books, headed up to the cash register. As they passed, Tess raised her eyebrows at Ali in a meaningful way that made Ali flush. Her friend knew all too well what a crush Ali had always had on Clint. It was bigger, even, than the one Tess used to have on Lucas Porter. Tess had outgrown hers, but somehow Ali’s for Clint Maclean was holding on.

“Actually, I had to stop in at the bank and since your bookstore was down the street, I came by hoping I would bump into you here so I could say hey.”

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