Page 98 of Will Bark for Pizza
But doubtful.
How many times did I have a meltdown and just wanted a fucking hug from Travis, only to be met with a cold stare and the even colder“I’m not enabling this behavior by giving you a hug”bullshit he spewed.
Beckett held me. He listened. He asked for nothing. Never once did he make me feel like a burden or an idiot for the choices I made. He didn’t try to convince me I did something to deserve this. That it was somehow all my fault.
Beckett Campbell was quicksand.
If I had any sense at all, I’d keep that in the forefront of my mind.
But the memory of that soul-awakening kiss on the boat dock had already booked a room. Seemed like it was planning on a long-term stay.
That kiss was all-consuming. Unlike anything I’d ever dreamed up.
I prided myself on writing great first kiss scenes in my Diana books—my readers would back me up—but kissing Beckett made me question everything I knew about my creative abilities. I could hardly find the words to describe what I experienced. The current of warmth that skittered through my body like a tingly caress and awakened parts of me I didn’t realize existed, much less were dormant.The way I felt as though I were floating out of my body and simultaneously more grounded than I’d ever been.
It seemed like fiction.
And yet, I could feel the sensation now, as though his lips were pressed to mine in this very moment.
It was so damn tempting to kiss him last night. To reach my fingertips to his jaw and pull his lips to mine for a taste of that drug-induced kiss once more as he held me.
Did I ever once feel that full-body buzz when Travis kissed me?
No.
Never.
Not even when things were good.
If Beckett could kiss like that, what could he do to other parts of me?
“Friends, Kira.Justfriends.”
The click of the deadbolt as I unlocked the front door of the bookstore brought me back to the present. I dropped the leash, allowing Husker to trot inside ahead of me.
The welcoming scent of books was almost enough to drown out the deafening silence.
Almost.
I missed the days when Mom left a dog bed out for Husker and any other furry visitors that might stop by the store. She once kept a jar of homemade dog treats at the counter as well.
If the store were mine, that was the first thing I’d bring back.
But the store would never be mine.
In a few days, it wouldn’t exist at all.
A tremor threatened to rip through my body, but Ichoked it back down. Dad wanted so desperately for the book club to have one last, normal meeting. I didn’t need to drag down the mood with waterworks that may or may not be contagious. Many of the members coming today had known me since diapers. Members who were more like family members. I had to stay strong for them. I wanted today to be special.
“Let’s get this place ready,” I said to Husker.
I shot Aspen a text to check on the cupcake order she promised to have delivered, then set to work. Though a checklist waited in a binder at the register, I moved about the shop on muscle memory. I started the coffee pot, adjusted the chairs around the table, wiped down the dusty table, set pads of paper, an array of colorful fountain pens, and book tabs at both ends. I turned on white twinkle lights overhead, fighting my discouragement that half of them were burned out. Nothing I could do about that now. Some twinkle lights were better than none.
I grabbed dusting spray and a rag. I didn’t have the time to clean properly, but I could at least address the areas closest to the community table.
While I cleaned, Husker wandered off toward the back, refusing to come back when I called to him.
“Bubbies, you better not be licking the books.”
