Page 10 of Billionaire's Bookworm

In the distance, Wade James’s sprawling beachfront estate caught my eye, its white stone facade glinting under the sun. It was definitely more grand than my own modest bungalow next door. Rumors about the wealthy bachelor living there were rampant, but until last night, I’d never even caught a glimpse of him.

Seemed at least one of the rumors was true. The man was hot with a capital H.

I frowned.

Arrogant as all get out, but hot.

Or maybe it’s the arrogance you find hot, Emma girl,Grammy’s opinionated voice whispered through my mind.

I grinned.

You might be right, Grammy. You know I’m a sucker for confidence.

We used to have so many conversations about the men in my life. I missed her dearly but I was thankful she left me with so many memories. They helped keep her close. Though if people knew I talked to her in my head, they’d probably think I was certifiable.

I reached the door to the bookshop and drew out my keys. Unlocking the doors, I went through my morning routine, getting everything ready for the day. Silvy wouldn’t be in until later, so I had the place to myself for awhile. I put coffee on to brew in the tiny kitchen near the office, cued up my favorite playlist to play through the loudspeakers, and set about unpacking and sorting another box of new books that came in last week.

I tottered on a step stool, arranging paperbacks on their bookshelves when the bell above the door jangled. I glanced over my shoulder with my practiced customer smile, only to falter at the sight of the hot with a capital H neighbor from last night strolling in.

His gaze swept over the cozy bookstore, a frown marring his features. Seemed frowning and scowling was his default. Eyes finally settling on me, Wade strode in my direction, his gaze roving over my figure––fully clothed this time––in a way that said he was still imagining me half-naked. The idea of him picturing me any way at all made my lower belly clench.

Wade stopped in front of my step stool. He was so tall it only put me at eye level for him. Perfectly positioned for my gaze to get hung up on his mouth. I dragged it away before he realized I was staring.

“I owe you an apology for my behavior last night.” His blunt admission caught me off guard and I blinked.

“Oh.”

His lips twitched, his gaze bright as he studied my face.

“My mother raised me better than that. I was in a mood, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way and I apologize.”

I stepped down off the stool, facing him, except now I had to look up. “Well––thank you. I appreciate you coming here to tell me that.”

He inclined his head, a wry smile twisting his firm lips. “Could we try again? I’m Wade James.” He didn’t stick out his hand this time. Good thing, because mine were suddenly clammy.

“Emma. Michaels,” I added as I studied him, surprised at his abrupt change in demeanor.

We stood there awkwardly for several seconds. Finally, I relented. “Would you like some coffee, Mr. James? It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way just to apologize.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Coffee would be spectacular, Ms. Michaels.”

I disappeared to prepare two cups of coffee and brought them out on a tray with creamer, sugar, and some leftover pumpkin bread Silvy kept in the fridge. As we settled into the cozy chairs in my favorite reading nook, a strained silence filled the space between us.

His eyes lingered on the bookshelves. “So this is your life—curating books in a small beach town.” His tone held a hint of cynicism.

I bristled at the implication. “What’s wrong with that? I enjoy my work and the peace of Seashell Cove. Not all of us want to live a life of luxury and excess.”

“Touché.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “My apologies. Again. I didn’t mean to offend you––”

“Again,” I finished for him. “And I didn’t mean to get defensive. I guess it’s my turn to ask if we can start over, huh?” I offered.

A smile tugged at his lips as he raised his mug. “To new beginnings.”

As we chatted over coffee, I found myself observing him from beneath the cover of my lashes, stealing glances whenever I could. Yeesh, the man was like a Greek god, he was so pretty and sculpted. But there was something about him… something that felt vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why. My brain churned, trying to force the connection hovering at the edges of my awareness.

“So,” he began, his voice interrupting my thoughts, “tell me more about this... chili cook-off you mentioned.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest in such a kitschy, small town event. “What do you want to know?”

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