Page 17 of Billionaire's Bookworm

“So,” Meg began without preamble, settling across from me, “we heard about the cook-off.”

I groaned. “Let me guess—Sandy’s ‘reliable sources’ have been busy.”

“Well, it’s not every dayWade Jameskisses someone in public,” she said, eyes gleaming. Ryker had a knowing look on his face as he stared at me contemplatively.

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” I protested. “Hardly worth all this fuss.”

“Is that so?” Ryker snickered. “Because from what I hear, it was quite the spectacle.”

I shot him a look and he held up his hands defensively. “Just repeating the gossip.”

“Which you know I despise,” I retorted, though a smile tugged at my lips.

“Come on, Emma,” Meg pressed. “What’s the real story?”

I sighed, stirring my latte absentmindedly. “Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. One minute the man is insufferable, the next he’s... Well, still insufferable, but also occasionally charming. And too hot for his own damn good.”

“Sounds complicated,” Meg observed.

“Understatement of the year,” I muttered.

“Maybe give him a chance?” Ryker suggested. “He might surprise you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, are you vouching for him now?”

He shrugged. “I’ve known Wade a long time. Beneath that cocky exterior, he’s not a bad guy.”

“See?” Meg nudged me, her expression sly. “Even Ryker says so.”

“Traitor,” I mumbled, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all we ask,” Meg remarked, a satisfied smile curving her lips.

I finished my scone and glanced at the time. “Shoot. I should get back to the shop. Mountains of books await.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Ryker advised.

“Where’s the fun in that?” I teased, gathering my things. Everyone knew he was the biggest workaholic around.

As I stepped back onto the boardwalk, the sea breeze tousled my hair. Taking a deep breath, I savored the salty tang. Maybe my friends had a point.

Perhaps I was being too hard on Wade.

Then again, guarding my heart had always been necessary.

Back at the bookstore, I flipped the sign to “Open” and slipped behind the counter, pulling out the event proposal I’d been meaning to work on. Immersing myself in plans for children’s reading week, I lost track of time—ideas flowing freely as I mapped out story-time sessions, craft activities, and maybe even a costume parade.

The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled me from my reverie.

“Be right with you,” I called, not looking up.

“Take your time,” a deep voice responded, smooth as honey.

I froze, pen hovering above the notepad. That voice.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to find Wade––in the flesh this time, not just my head––leaning casually against a bookshelf, that signature smirk firmly in place. He was impeccably dressed, as always—crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, dark jeans that fit just right. His muscular forearms caught my gaze and a little flutter started low in my belly. I was a sucker for man hands and forearms.

“Hello, Emma,” he drawled, eyes gleaming with an amusement that said he knew I was checking him out.

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