Page 85 of Book People

‘It’s fine,’ I interrupt gently, coming around the counter and taking her hand in mine, hoping to calm her down. ‘Nigel in Greenham will be able to courier over some more.’

Her fingers close instinctively around mine as if for comfort. ‘Nigel? Greenham?’

‘He owns Dusty Shelf Books. I’ve done a few favours for him recently and he owes me one. He’ll probably have a whole lot in stock, because his shop is bigger and he’ll be wanting to catch some overflow from our festival.’

Her eyes go very wide, panic receding. ‘How will we get them here, though? Is there anyone with a truck who’ll be willing to deliver on a Saturday?’

As it happens, there is. ‘Len’ll do it.’

‘Len? As in Len’s Quality Construction Len?’

‘Yes.’ I smile at her surprise. ‘You wouldn’t know it, but our Leonard has a taste for art and history, and I’ve just ordered him a very expensive title on Venetian architecture. I’m quite sure he’ll be happy with doing a delivery in lieu of payment.’

Hope flickers in her eyes and I feel it in my chest, a growing pressure. Satisfaction that she came to me for help. Pleasure that I could help her. Desire to be the first one she turns to whenever she needs help in the future . . .

‘Are you sure, Sebastian?’ she asks, huskily.

I squeeze her hand and, before the pressure gets too much, I let go of it. Before I hold on for grim life so she’s never out of my sight.

‘Go back to your shop. Open the doors. And let me handle it.’

She leans forward, then puts her hands on my chest and rises up on her toes and kisses me. It’s only a fleeting brush of her mouth, but it pierces me like an arrow. For long moments I can’t move or breathe.

‘You’re the best,’ she says quietly. ‘If you don’t want me falling for you, you’re going the wrong way about it.’

Falling for me?I think.She’s what?

But she whirls around and is gone, leaving me standing there staring after her with my mouth open, probably looking very similar to a stunned mullet.

She’s kissed me before, a thousand times, and it’s never had this effect, yet I can’t think about why right now.

Not when I have a damsel to save.

I text Dan to help me carry the boxes of books from my shop to Portable Magic, then I give Nigel a ring. He’s more than happy to help out and has plenty of stock. We discuss the financials and, once that’s sorted, I ring Leonard. He’s got no issue with driving to Greenham and doing a pick-up for me, and can do it immediately. He’s pleased at getting the book on Venetian architecture in return, and I tell him I’ll also throw in a signed edition ofColoursfor his wife, who is a huge fan.

By the time I’ve made the arrangements with Nigel and Len, Dan arrives and we start gathering the boxes of books I’ve got in my back room, carting them over to Portable Magic.

Kate has Lisa’s signing table all set up, with a poster of the book, some pens, a glass of water and a little bowl of peppermints. Lisa is standing behind it chatting with her, while Clive looms menacingly behind Lisa.

They all look up as Dan and I come in with the boxes, carrying them over to the table and setting them down beside it. Kate’s face is shining as she looks at me and all I can hear is her telling me that I’m going the wrong way aboutnothaving her fall forme. All I can think is that her falling for me is exactly what I want.

Because I’m falling for her too.

Fuck.

‘Nigel’s sending some of his stock over,’ I say, my voice hoarse-sounding. ‘We’ll have plenty for the signing at Blackwood Books tomorrow too.’

‘Oh my God, that’s amazing!’ Kate exclaims, her smile like the sun rising. ‘You’re a hero, Sebastian Blackwood.’

No, I’m not. I’m an uptight bookseller who prefers books to people, and yet when she looks at me that way, there’s a part of me that almost feels like a hero.Herhero.

I almost tell her. I almost open my fucking mouth and tell her that’s what I want to be. I want to be her hero.

But luckily there’s no time for that, because Dan is busy opening boxes, getting out books and stacking them on the table, and the doors are opening, and people are coming in, and the moment is lost.

A good thing.

I’m not anyone’s hero, least of all hers.

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