Page 5 of Tides of Change
I strolled over to the rack and kept my steps casual. Sure enough, eight of Ethan Quinn’s Jake Slate books lined the top shelf. I grabbed the first book in the series. I peeked at Mason and returned his smirk with a glare.
I made a show of ambling through the bookstore as if I didn’t have a care in the world and tossed Mason a look of indifference when I passed the counter. I ended up in the children’s nook. Noah sat cross-legged, utterly engrossed in a Halloween picture book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Around him lay a small fortress of books.
“Time to clean up, buddy.” I crouched beside him. A swell of pride swept through me as my eager reader quickly set his current book aside to sort through his piles. The smell of new books, that sharp scent of binding glue, wrapped around us.
“But, Daddy,” he whined. His hand darted protectively over the stack he’d already gathered. “I needallof these.” He fixed me with wide, pleading blue eyes.
I huffed a sigh and pretended reluctance. “You know the rule. We’ll save some for next time.” I gently coaxed the pile down from ten to five, allowing him to debate each one, his lip between his teeth as he made his hard choices.
He darted toward the counter. “Mr. Mason! I got five books!” He held up his hand in a proud display of five fingers.
Mason gave me a smug grin. But he gave Noah a kind, approving smile as he took the basket and rang up the books. “All good choices, too.”
I slid Ethan’s book onto the counter alongside Noah’s stack.
A quirk pulled at the corner of Mason’s mouth. “Do you know how to read anything but picture books, or is this your first dive into big-kid literature?”
I grunted and glared at him. “Ha-ha,” I shot back. “For your information, I know how to read perfectly well.”
But I had additional plans for that Jake Slate book.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ethan
I stared at the screen of my laptop, arms crossed, and the flashing cursor on the blank page mocked me.Blink, blink, blink.I’d glared at that cursor for hours and willed the words to come. Yet, dread crept up my spine like icy fingers. The fear of feeding my alleged stalker’s delusions paralyzed me. My throat tightened with anxiety that I was writing bait, but I had a deadline to meet.
I placed my fingers on the keys and began,Slate vaulted the?—
The doorbell interrupted the silence, and a notification from my security app stole my attention. My breathing stopped, and the familiar pulse of adrenaline kicked in. There shouldn’t be anyone on my porch—no deliveries, no visitors. For a scary moment, I simply eyed the alert on my phone, my mouth dry as I braced myself. I tapped the camera feed, half prepared to see some shadowy figure or threatening gift. Instead, I exhaled, and relief coursed through me as my screen revealed Garrett and his son.
I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. I dropped my phone onto my desk and padded through the house inthick socks that hushed my steps. The residual tightness in my shoulders loosened.
As I reached the door, I heard the boy’s muffled, enthusiastic chatter, punctuated by Garrett’s deep murmur. Another chime rang through the house, followed by impatient giggles. Despite my fears and the need for privacy, my contrary mood lightened with anticipation as I disarmed the alarm system.
I swung the door open and found the little man bouncing from foot to foot. His hands clutched a picture book against his chest, his wide-eyed grin aimed up at me.
“Looking for me?” I teased and struggled to rein in my laughter at his intense excitement.
“Mr. Ethan!” he squealed and clutched his book even tighter. “I’m Noah! I’m five years old and I live across the street!” He spun on his heel, his sneakers scuffing against the pavement of the porch, and jabbed a small finger toward his house. He whipped back around. “Daddy told me you write books. I broughts my book for you to sign!” His enthusiasm radiated off him as he stretched the book up toward me.
Garrett stood behind him, and one hand ran self-consciously along the back of his neck. A blush dusted his cheeks. “I told Noah you only signed your own books, but he insisted.”
I chuckled. “I’d be honored to sign his book.” I pointed to the paperback Garrett had tucked under his arm. “And it looks like you brought one of mine, too.” Heat unfurled in my chest at his interest in one of my novels.
“Come in.” I shifted and welcomed them into the house. As they stepped inside, Garrett’s gaze drifted around the room. “The new owner did a great job of renovating the place.” He tapped the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “The refinished hardwood floors are beautiful.”
“I got lucky to find such a nice house.” Especially since I rented it and moved in at the last minute.
“You did.” He turned in a circle. “I’m working on my home, but it’s slow. I inherited it from my grandmother when she passed away.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t keep up with it in her final years.”
A pang of sympathy hit me in the chest. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He shrugged and tousled Noah’s hair. “At least she got to meet Noah.” He gave his son a fond smile, who ducked out from underneath his hand.
“Da-ad. I’m not a baby,” he whined.
Garrett rolled his eyes, and I grinned.
