Page 56 of Book People

Jealousy slides a needle beneath my skin, but I try to ignore it. I don’t care if she flirts with him. We had our one night together and it’s over. I have no claim on him and he doesn’t have one on me. It’s fine.

She laughs and it’s like sandpaper scraping over my skin.

I should leave and come back when she’s gone, but I’m stubborn now. What do I care if she’s here or not? She’s a customer anyway, so he won’t be that long.

As he goes to the counter and rings up the book, Lucy chats away. His gaze shifts to mine and the air crackles around us. With heat and with knowledge. With the memory of our night together. His hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. Him inside me, moving . . .

I tear my gaze away and study the spines on the bookcase nearby. I study them really,reallyhard.

Lucy is in no hurry, still talking.

My God, I think,leave the man alone!

Finally, after what seems like a full two hours, she leaves and I approach the counter. He watches me. His shirt today is dark blue and it makes the colour of his eyes even more intense.

My face is hot, my skin tight, and my fingers itch with the need to reach for the top button of that shirt to flick it open.

‘Miss Jones,’ he says, aggravatingly formal. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Sebastian,’ I say, hating the awkwardness in my voice. ‘I heard from Lisa today. The letters were a hit. She says she’s between books and has been looking for some inspiration and would love to come to Wychtree. She won’t require a fee.’

His face lights up and his mouth curves, and that smile hits me right in the centre of my chest, making it difficult to breathe. ‘That’s fantastic,’ he says. ‘Amazing news. I’ll get in touch with the printer for the programme this morning.’

Another smile in the space of two days. It’s a bloody miracle and even more pleasing that he smiled because of me.

‘I know,’ I say, smiling back, because I just can’t help myself. ‘Isn’t it great? It’s extremely late notice and everything, but I think having her name as the headliner is going to make a huge difference.’

For a second there is no awkwardness between us. Nothing but a shared triumph and delight that this festival might just work out after all, and maybe not just work out, but be a success.

‘Yes, given that, we might need a bigger venue.’ Sebastian looks around, his black brows twitching together. ‘This place and Portable Magic are quite small.’

‘Let’s see what tickets we sell,’ I say. ‘There’s the village hall if an event gets out of hand, but we should have the majority of events here and at my shop. This place is so beautiful. People will love being in here, and for the out-of-towners, they’ll want to come back.’

He glances at me, that smile on his face, and I feel my heart turn over in my chest. ‘They’re going to come back for Portable Magic too. You’re good with people.’

I love his praise, which is pretty stupid of me, but I can’t help it. Jasper’s compliments always held hidden barbs, and he certainly never admired anything I did, not like Sebastian does. It really means a lot coming from him, because I’ve only been in the bookselling game for a scant couple of months, while he’s been at it for at least a decade.

My face gets even hotter, which is annoying. ‘Thank you,’ I say, flustered. Then, changing the subject, ‘We should go overour schedule for the festival again. I can also help you with that newsletter, if you’d like.’

Slowly the light fades from his eyes and from his face, the warmth of his own excitement cooling. Like lava, he hardens back into stone. ‘Yes, we should do that.’ His voice is formal once again. ‘How about tomorrow evening after closing?’

The loss of his smile is upsetting, but I decide I’m not going to let it matter. We’re going to be colleagues now, which is much better than enemies, so, really, any meeting where we’re not arguing is a win.

I keep my own smile pasted on. ‘That sounds great.’

He looks away. ‘If you’ll forgive me, I have some stock I have to order.’

It’s a dismissal loud and clear, and, yes, it hurts. But I can’t let it. This was not what I promised myself. I’m not going to let a man hurt me, not again.

So I swallow down my hurt, keeping my smile as a shield between him and me. Good thoughts. Good thoughts.

‘No problem. I’ve got a few things to do myself. See you tomorrow, then.’ I turn and head to the front door.

I’m reaching to push it open when he says, ‘Miss Jones.’

I stop and glance at him, my heart racing. ‘Yes?’

‘Mrs Bennet in Wychtree Crafts might have known your grandmother. They’re of an age, I think. Why don’t we go there before closing tomorrow? We can look at the festival stuff afterwards.’

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