Page 26 of The Story of Us
The afternoon at True LoveBooks & Cafe proved to be even busier than the morning had been as more and more people had a chance to read the article and come by to support the bookshop. Jamie rang up books while Lucy tried her best to keep up with the coffee demand, which wasgreat. Their espresso machine had never seen so much action.
Neither had True Love, obviously. The Valentine’s display area was packed with well-dressed customers who seemed to be shopping for more than just books and lattes. Now that word had gotten out about the store being a lucky charm for love, Jamie noticed customers sneaking curious glances at one another and using the display of old Valentines as an ice breaker to meet each other. All in all, it was adorable.
And busy! Soverybusy.
When at last Jamie had a second to breathe, she and Lucy met in the middle of the sales floor, halfway between the book register and the café counter, to do a tiny victory dance and marvel at what was happening around them.
“I just sent out an SOS to Rick,” Lucy said. “We are almost out of sugar cookies!” Her face was flushed, and if Jamie wasn’t mistaken, her black turtleneck smelled faintly of buttercream.
“Isn’t this fantastic?” Jamie grinned, then crossed her arms. “That’ll teach him.”
“Who? Mr. Arugula?”
Of course. Who else? “Mm-hmm.”
Sawyer should have known better than to try and get between her and True Love. She hated to think the article might cause him any real trouble with Ridley, but she hadn’t had a choice. Honestly, he had no one to blame but himself. And why should she be worried about Sawyer’s career when he clearly had no qualms about tearing down her store?
Lucy slid her sideways glance. Jamie got the impression she had some definite thoughts about Sawyer—traitor that he was—but before Lucy could voice them, Jamie’s cell phone started vibrating in her hand.
She frowned down at it. “Oh.”
“What?” Lucy said.
Jamie turned her iPhone toward Lucy so she could see the name lit up on the screen:Matt.
“Whoa. Matt?” Lucy’s eyes grew wide. “What does your ex want?”
Jamie had no idea, but she suspected it might have something to do with his mom’s recent surprise visit to True Love. Whatever the reason, she didn’t have time to deal with it right now. What exactly was happening, anyway, with the recent parade of ex-boyfriends marching back through her life?
“And speaking of blasts from the past…” Lucy nudged Jamie with her elbow.
She looked up to see Sawyer standing on the opposite side of the room, all warm brown eyes and chiseled, masculine bone structure. He was wearing his Captain Wentworth peacoat again,smilingat her as if they were still on good terms…still a team, like they’d been all those years ago.
Sawyer + Jamie 4 ever.Those words had covered every inch of her favorite spiral notebook back in tenth grade. She hadn’t thought about that notebook in years. Her heart gave a little flutter. Her stupid, stupid heart.
“Hmm.” It was all she could manage to say. Why was he there? What could Sawyer possibly want with her now?
She pressed decline on her phone, silencing Matt’s call.
“Yeah.” Lucy shot her a meaningful glance and then scurried back to the café counter, leaving Jamie all alone, heart pounding as Sawyer strode toward her.
She felt like a deer in headlights all of a sudden, which was patently ridiculous. The tables had turned. True Love had the upper hand now, not Ridley. There was no reason she should feel so…so…breathless in Sawyer’s presence.
It was beyond annoying, so she ignored it, squared her shoulders and marched in Sawyer’s direction until they met one another mere inches from the Valentine display.
“Nice article,” he said without an ounce of sarcasm. She barely took in the words, distracted as she was by the sight of his familiar, handsome face surrounded by the gold ribbons and vintage Valentines hanging overhead.
Somewhere at home, she still had a white bakery bag filled with all the Valentines that Sawyer had given her through the years—every single one. She should have thrown the bag away years ago, but she could never bring herself to get rid of it. Now, she wasn’t quite sure whether that made her sentimental or pathetic.
Both, probably.
“Thanks,” she said.
So this was it? He’d come by just to compliment her on her latest attempt to thwart his evil plan?
He leaned closer—close enough for her to get a whiff of cedar and woodsmoke from his peacoat, as if the lush, woodsy scents of Waterford still clung to him. The prodigal son. “But I have to ask—what did you think of my actual designs?”
She blinked. Surely he didn’t want her actual, honest opinion.
