Page 45 of Billionaire's Bookworm

His laugh filled up the empty store, and something in my chest shifted. Getting past my hangups wouldn’t be easy. But looking at Wade––at the way he watched me like I was both a pain in his ass and the best thing ever––I knew we had something worth figuring out.

Wade smiled and I think it was that smile that really did me in. It was boyish and gentle and possessive all at the same time and though it scared me, it also made my toes curl.

Maybe I liked being kept more than I was willing to admit.

And… maybe Wade reallywasas safe as he felt.

CHAPTER12

Epilogue

Wade

(Six Months Later)

Never in a millionyears did I imagine I’d be here—planning a proposal in a quaint coastal town, with a ninety-pound Goldendoodle as my wingman. Five years ago, holed up in my meticulously manicured garden fortress, I would’ve laughed at the absurdity. Back then, my biggest concern was evading my sister’s relentless matchmaking schemes.

“Porky, buddy, that ring box isn’t your latest chew toy.” I adjusted his crooked bow tie behind the festival stage, and he gazed up at me with that trademark goofy retriever grin. The same one he’d flashed while demolishing my “ridiculous botanicals” that infamous night. “Though, I suppose I owe you one. If you hadn’t decided my garden needed a midnight makeover, I might never have made a complete fool of myself in front of the woman I love.”

“Talking to Emma’s fur baby again?” Sandy appeared beside me, balancing two steaming cups from her café. “Here. You look like you need this.”

I accepted the coffee with a sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Hon, you’re practically vibrating.” She gave me a once-over, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I have to say, seeing Wade James nervous is kind of refreshing. Remember when you thought Emma was just another gold digger trying to seduce the ‘billionaire playboy’?”

“God, don’t remind me.” I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my collar. “I’m still living down that ‘more money than manners’ comment.”

She smirked. “Well, you did deserve it. Accusing a woman in her pajamas of trying to proposition you at midnight?”

“In my defense, she was very distracting in those shorts.”

Sandy chuckled. “Good thing you had the good sense to make it right the next day.”

“Yeah. Had to swallow my pride and apologize.” Though we both knew that wasn’t the only reason. Something about Emma’s fiery spirit and blatant disregard for my status had lodged itself under my skin that night. “Didn’t expect to find myself competing in a small-town chili cook-off a few days later.”

“Or reading stories to preschoolers,” Sandy added with a knowing grin. “You weren’t exactly subtle in your pursuit, Wade.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She had me there. From the moment I walked into Beachy Keen Reads that morning, saw Emma tucked behind a stack of books, I wanted—no, needed—to be part of her world. Story times, trivia nights, all the small-town charm I’d once dismissed without a second thought.

The summer festival glittered around us, strings of lights casting a warm glow over Seashell Cove’s boardwalk, transforming it into something out of a dream. Emma’s bookstore display caught my eye—strategically positioned with a perfect view of my garden, of course. The very garden where I’d made a complete ass of myself, jumping to conclusions about a woman who, it turned out, had walked away from the same privileged world I had.

“Well, if it isn’t my rebel brother.” Amy’s polished voice carried over the festive noise as she approached, a genuine smile softening her usual composure. “I have to admit, this place has grown on me. Though Mother’s still recovering from the shock of you hiding out here, living a double life.”

“Glad you could make it, Ames.” I returned her smile, grateful for the familiar comfort of family.

“And miss seeing you finally settle down?” She arched a brow. “Mother’s already plotting how to spin this for the society pages—‘James Heir Weds Local Bookshop Owner in Whirlwind Romance.’” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Though I doubt she’ll include how you accused your future wife of being a gold digger while she was chasing her dog through your precious garden at midnight.”

I winced, glancing over at Emma as she charmed Mrs. Peabody at her stall. Her laughter floated on the breeze, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “At least there were no witnesses to that particular display of my... assery. Just me, Emma in those shorts, and Porky decimating my prize hydrangeas.”

Amy shook her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “And now look at you—local bookstore groupie, children’s storytime champion, and apparently the judges’ favorite at last month’s pie contest.” She straightened my collar with that familiar sisterly precision. “Though I still can’t believe you entered a baking competition. Chili, sure. Baking? Hell, no.”

“Emma bet me I wouldn’t. You know how that usually ends.”

“With you making a fool of yourself to prove a point? Yes, I’m well-versed in the pattern.” Her expression softened. “But it works for you two. She pushes, you jump, and somehow you both end up exactly where you need to be.”

My gaze drifted back to Emma, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the festival lights. That same infectious joy that had caught me off guard the morning after our ill-fated garden encounter.

“Speaking of your bride-to-be,” Sandy nudged me gently, nodding toward the boardwalk, “Silvy’s keeping her occupied at the book display, but you might want to hurry before Porky decides that bow tie is more appetizing than the ring.”

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