Page 26 of Must Love Libraries and Libations
For a breath, I stood still, burning quietly inside. “You know what?” I snapped. “Just because it’s not some ancient, esoteric, antiquated thing doesn’t make it meaningless.”
He blinked at me. For a second, there was something vulnerable in his gaze, but then it was gone.
Before either of us could say more, a sharp snort interrupted us.
Stevenson, the red-scaled bookwyrm, climbed onto the table and peered at my sketches. He trilled lightly in approval then gave Erasmus a look that could char parchment.
Turning from the infuriating gargoyle, I smiled at the bookwyrm. “I thought I might see you again. Okay, you tell me,” I said, flipping my notebook to two potential layouts. “Three-tiered cake or a cupcake display?” I asked, showing him the model displays. “Which do you like?”
The bookwyrm considered a moment, then puffed a small curl of smoke at the sketch with cupcakes.
“Good choice,” I said. “Now, we must decide on flavor,” I added, pulling out the box of samples from The Sconery. “I was thinking something classic,” I said, giving the gargoyle a hard look over my shoulder as I chatted with the bookwyrm. “Strawberry cake with lemon frosting, warm spice cake with apple frosting, or earthy carrot cake with cream cheese?” I asked, setting three silver-foil-wrapped mini cupcakes before the bookwyrm.
Stevenson tasted each delicately, chewing with consideration, then gestured to the spice cupcake with a decisive chuff.
“Excellent choice. I thought that one too. Spice pairs better with wines, and apples are good for late summer.”
The bookwyrm’s ears twitched happily at my words of encouragement. Then, as if the meeting were concluded, he took the rest of the sample box and slipped out of the study.
I chuckled at him then turned back at Erasmus, fixing him with a hard look. “See, that was not so hard. You’re worried about the bookwyrms, but they’re being more helpful than you are. We’re settled. Spice cupcakes.”
“That was a cheat.”
“What was?”
“Summoning allies mid-argument.”
“Are we having an argument? I thought we were having a discussion. And Stevenson has excellent taste.”
Erasmus stepped closer, looming over me with winged authority. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very frustrating, Miss Windsong?”
“Only my mother. Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too stubborn for your own good, Master Erasmus?”
He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. “Once or twice,” he said, the hint of a smile lifting one corner of his lips. This close, I could smell the subtle scents of parchment, sage, and leather that clung to his hair and clothes. His golden eyes glimmered with something between fury and excitement. “Do you think only sparkle makes something meaningful?” he asked as he studied my face with an intensity that made my heart beat a little faster.
“No,” I replied, “but life doesn’t have to be cold and joyless.”
“You think I’m cold and joyless?”
“Joyless, for sure.”
“Rude and ancient, right?”
“Rude, definitely.”
“So, you think I’m cold, Miss Windsong?” he asked, drawing closer to me, his heat radiating from him, his eyes fixed on mine.
My heart pounded in my chest. “Well, I…”
“I’ll show you cold,” he replied, then leaned in and kissed me like he’d been holding it back through every scowl and eye roll.
My breath caught. His hand found my waist, and he pulled me toward him, my body pressing against his. It was messy and wrong and so, so perfect. His lips were surprisingly warm, his mouth tinged with the subtle notes of morning tea. His kiss was soft, but fierce, like he couldn’t decide whether to devour or pull away. His heady, masculine scent was intoxicating. My whole body came alive with heat, and my heart slammed in my chest. My hands found his chest…solid, immovable, infuriating, and oh so intoxicating.
Around us, the sconces flared slightly brighter. A scroll fluttered open and closed. The ancient bookwyrm who had been sleeping on a stool nearby let out a humph, like it was scandalized.
At the sound, Erasmus broke away.
“What the…” he whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”
