Page 22 of Billionaire's Bookworm

With my bag of scones in hand, I stepped out of the café and into the sunny bustle of Seashell Cove’s main street. The salty breeze from the nearby ocean mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the bakery next door.

Kids zoomed by on bicycles, dodging pedestrians with reckless abandon, while locals strolled along, exchanging waves and small talk. I got a few side-eyes and giggle on my way. Glancing down, I realized it must be the shirt.

Smooth, James. Real damn smooth.

My lips quirked.Despite the nosy locals, Seashell Cove was a far cry from the chaos of Miami—no blaring horns, no high-stakes deals, no assistant frantically texting me about quarterly reports. Just sunshine, chatter, and a surprising sense of... ease.

I exhaled deeply, the kind of breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t in a rush to be somewhere else, and damned if it didn’t feel good.

* * *

An hour later,I stood in front of Emma’s gate, the bag of scones in my hand and a sense of determination bubbling in my chest. My Kiss the Cook tee was discarded on the floorboard of my car in favor of a plain black one I kept in my trunk for emergencies.

“Alright, buddy,” I said, crouching down and holding up a scone like a peace offering. Porky stood a few feet away, glaring at me as if I were trying to sell him insurance. “Truce?”

His nose twitched at the scent of blueberries, but he didn’t budge.

“Come on,” I coaxed, breaking off a piece and tossing it toward him. It landed in the grass, a crumbly offering of goodwill.

Porky sniffed it suspiciously, then glanced up at me as if to say,You think I’m that easy?

“Look, man, we got off on the wrong paw,” I continued. “I’ll admit it—I’m not great at first impressions. But you’ve got to give me credit for effort here.”

Porky tilted his head, his floppy ears twitching slightly.

“See? You’re starting to warm up to me.” I tossed another piece of scone, this time closer to him. Porky took a cautious step forward, his tail giving the faintest wag.

Progress.

“Wade?”

I froze mid-scone toss, spinning around to see Mrs. Peabody leaning over her fence next door. The woman had a habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times, like a nosy, cardigan-wearing jack-in-the-box.

“Morning, Mrs. Peabody,” I said, straightening up and trying not to look like I’d just been caught bribing a dog.

Her sharp blue eyes narrowed. “What are you doing with Emma’s dog?”

“Just... making friends.”

She snorted. “Dog doesn’t like you, does he?”

I sighed. “Not yet.”

“Well, I don’t blame him. Emma doesn’t need some smooth-talking city boy coming in here and stirring things up.” She wagged a finger at me. “If you’re going to break her heart, you better pack your bags and leave now.”

“Not planning on it,” I said firmly, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.

Mrs. Peabody studied me for a long moment, then nodded as though she’d made some sort of decision. “Good. Because if you hurt her, you’ll have me—and the rest of this town—to answer to.”

Noted.

Ten minutes later, I’d almost coaxed Porky close enough to pet, when I heard someone clearing their throat. Turning, I found Emma standing on her porch, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched in that way that made me feel simultaneously amused and guilty.

Busted.Again.

She was wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts that showed off her toned legs, and an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off one shoulder, revealing a hint of creamy skin.Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was holding a mug that readBut First, Coffee.

She unconsciously touched her lips—a gesture that sent my mind straight back to yesterday’s kiss. I gulped, instantly hard.Shit.My body reacted like a damn teenager whenever I was around her. Inconvenient as all hell. She seemed to catch herself, quickly dropping her hand and gripping her coffee mug tighter.

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