Page 21 of Designing Love
“Small-town grapevine,” she shrugs apologetically. “I’m Mia, by the way. Bookshop owner and part-time cat wrangler.”
“I’m Sophia,” I reply, shaking her outstretched hand. “New town refugee and, apparently, Ethan’s latest recruit for a questionable renovation project.”
Her laugh is melodic and instantly disarming. “Running from or to something?”
“A bit of both, maybe!” I shrug.What am I really doing here?
I settle onto a stool that Mia quickly cleared by shooing away the plump, disgruntled Siamese cat, who will dislike me after this. “I’m here for design inspiration and possibly moral support.”
Mia nods knowingly, then scratches the back of her neck before heading to a dusty, remote corner of the bookstore. She returns moments later, sliding an enormous, leather-bound volume across the counter. “Architectural Digest meets Haunted Houses Weekly. Guaranteed inspiration.”
I chuckle, flipping open the book. Elegant Victorian interiors, beautifully photographed rooms of rich textures, ornate moldings, and timeless charm fill the pages. My heart beats a bit faster.This could work.
I hesitate. “Ethan said you serve delicious cappuccino here. Is that true, or am I a victim of false advertising?”
She chuckles. “No lies on that front! I brew a mean cappuccino.”
I laugh, instantly warming to her easy humor. Mia hands me a steaming mug moments later, the rich scent of coffee wafting deliciously through the shop.
“Your cappuccino,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell Sage. She’ll never forgive me.”
“My lips are sealed,” I promise gratefully, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. “You’re officially my favorite person in Bluewater Cove.”
“Careful. Ethan might get jealous.”
I glance up sharply, heart fluttering unexpectedly at her teasing grin. “Oh, no — it’s strictly professional,” I say quickly. Too quickly, maybe.
She raises an eyebrow knowingly. “Of course. Professional.” She winks at me.
I clear my throat, still flustered. “Is he always so… easygoing? Or is that just with new people?”
Mia’s smile softens. “That’s pretty much Ethan. Easygoing, steady as bedrock. He’s the guy who’ll help you move furniture at midnight and never make it weird. But when it comes to romance?” She gives a playful shrug. “He’s never been a serial dater. Not brooding or anything, just picky. I think he’s been waiting for someone who fits.”
I swallow, fingers brushing the edge of a gilded photo. “Waiting, huh?”
Mia chuckles. “Waiting, yes. And not great at admitting it. So, if a certain interior designer finds him interesting, she might have to make the first move.”
I feel my cheeks heat, but I can’t stop the smile that forms. “Noted.”
I pause, fingertips brushing over a photograph of a warmly lit reading nook. “He’s lived here a while?”
“Born and raised,” she confirms with a nod. “Went off for university for a bit, had a couple flings but never brought anyone serious back. And once he settled in, started his freelance work... that was it. He just sort of made a life for himself, solo.”
There’s something quietly admirable about that — a man who built his life intentionally, not just waiting around for something to fall into place.
Before I can probe some more, the bell over the door jingles.
“Morning, Mia! Tell me you can fill my caffeine need. Lucas’ steamer is still out of business,” a woman calls, breezing inside in running tights and a bright fleece.She spots me, slows, then grins. “Well, hey. I don’t know you. So I guess you must be Sophia — Ethan’s partner in renovation crime?”
I straighten, suddenly aware I’m still clutching the giant design tome. “Guilty.?You’re…?”
“Claire.” She offers a firm handshake, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Campground manager, occasional life coach, and long-suffering best friend to that tall goof you keep running into.”
I laugh, nerves loosening. “Nice to meet you. Long-suffering, huh?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Claire leans an elbow on the counter. “He buys a haunted house on a whim, ropes you in, and still thinks it’s a flawless plan. Classic Ethan.” She winks, but there’s warmth beneath the teasing.
“Flawless plan?” I joke, playing along.
