Page 47 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“Ooh, the new Grisham!”

“I heard about that.”

“Hey, boy, you want to let us in early?”

Wiener bounced, excited, and wagged his short tail. I shook my head and backed away from the window, and went to the kitchen in search of a pen. Brad looked up from his frying pan.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

“Morning, yourself. Have you seen the fridge pen?”

“I think it ran out. There’s a marker in the junk drawer.”

I fished out the marker and a pad of blank paper, and sat at the table and wrote in block letters: THE DOG DOES NOT WORK HERE! DO NOT LET HIM IN!

Brad saw what I was doing and laughed out loud. “That dog’s getting in today. You know that, right?”

“Not if folks read the sign, he’s not.” I double-underlined DO NOT. Brad leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be on Wiener watch. If he sticks his nose in, I’ll bop it back out.”

I cocked my head, listening for the clack of his claws, but all I could hear was morning birdsong. Brad came up behind me and rubbed my tight shoulders.

“Relax,” he said. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I just did.” He stroked my hair back and I felt my stress fade. I had this. I’d worked for this. Got the word out there. People would come, and they’d buy books. I’d make them feel so welcome they’d be back every week. Every day even, for the more avid readers. I’d start a new book club. Expand my new café menu. Make my shop the place to come when it rained, to come just to sit, for a break from the day.

“You’re smiling,” said Brad.

“I’m happy, I think.”

“In a few hours, you’ll know it.” He kissed the top of my head again and refilled my juice glass. The way he took care of me made my heart go all gooey, how he thought of the little things. How he smiled when I did. Like when I was happy, his heart soared too.

We had a line waiting when we headed downstairs, just seven people and Wiener, but a line was a line. I spotted the joggers who’d swung by before, and a couple of summer folks I’d seen on the beach. Joyce from the library had come early as well, and she held Wiener back while I opened the door. She laughed when she saw the sign I was holding, and gave it an extra pat when I’d taped it up.

“Too bad he can’t read.”

“He should join Early Readers.” I pointed at the poster I’d stuck on the wall, advertising my under-fives story group.

The door chimes went off again as Joyce headed inside, Alice arriving for her morning shift. Technically, it wasn’t quite time for us to be open, and her eyes popped when she saw people browsing. She pulled out her phone and glowered at the screen.

“Wait, am I late? Did we say to come early?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Is it daylight savings?”

I laughed. “That was months ago. It’s okay, you’re good. We just had a line starting, so I opened the door.”

Alice made a whew sound and shrugged off her jacket. She headed for the back to open up the café. Today would be our first day selling coffee and cakes, but our cakes hadn’t come yet, and wouldn’t till noon. Orla had added us to her bakery route, and starting next week, we’d be her first stop. But this week, she was off on a well-deserved cruise, so we were serving just coffee till lunch.

“Ooh, look at this place!” The chimes went again and Dora came in. Rex came behind her with a string of grandchildren, who immediately split up and swarmed the shop. One went for the picture books, one for the sci-fi. One did a face-plant into a beanbag chair. The other two chased around between the shelves, and Brad chased after them.

“Hey, hey, no running…”

“You got fishing books?” said Rex. Dora smacked him.

“Fishing books, what’s a fishing book? No one writes about fishing.”

“We do,” I said. “They’re on the outdoors shelf. Or we’ve got A River Runs Through It if you’re looking for fiction, or Trout Bum for more… reflections on fishing.”

---