Page 35 of Billionaire's Bookworm

Silvy’s grin only widened. “And this is a problem because...?”

“Because people like Wade James don’t just ‘decide’ to settle down in small towns and shack up with small-fry bookstore owners. They don’t read books to a bunch of kids. They don’t...” I trailed off, remembering the way his hand brushed mine earlier, the faint flash of familiarity that came with it. “And they don’t look at you like they know you.”

Something flickered in Silvy’s expression. “Maybe some people surprise you.”

I took another sip of coffee, trying to ignore the way my heart jumped at her words. “Maybe some surprises aren’t worth the risk.”

But even as I said it, I couldn’t quite convince myself it was true.

“Besides,” I added, straightening a row of books more forcefully than necessary, “I’m sure he’ll be leaving soon anyway. Back to his tech empire in Miami or whatever society event his family’s trying to drag him to next.”

Silvy’s expression turned shrewd. “Is that what he told you?”

“He doesn’t have to tell me. Men like Wade don’t—“ I stopped abruptly as a fragment of memory hit me: the smell of coffee, heated debates about fate versus choice, fluorescent lights at 3 AM. For a moment, I could almost hear the passion in someone’s voice, see hands gesturing animatedly across a worn cafe table.

“Em? You okay?”

I blinked, the image dissolving as quickly as it had come. “Yeah, just... déjà vu or something.”

Silvy nodded, then gave me a considering look. “You know, for someone who claims not to care, you’ve put a lot of thought into his life.”

“I just don’t get him,” I said, though the words felt uncertain even to me. “He built this massive tech company, but instead of being at some Miami social gala, he’s here helping kids with glitter and storybooks.”

“Remind you of anyone?” Silvy raised an eyebrow. “You walked away from that world too, remember? All those expectations, the pressure to be someone you’re not?”

“That’s different?—“

“Is it? Em,” Silvy said gently, “maybe the reason you’re so determined to put Wade in a box is because you recognize something in him. That same need to escape, to build something that’s all your own. To just... be.”

“I’m not—“ I stopped, catching my reflection in the window. There was still glitter on my cheek from the morning’s reading session, and unbidden, I remembered the way Wade had ducked another call from his sister and sat on the floor with those kids, completely unconcerned about his designer jeans. Surrounded by books and children’s laughter, he’d looked… at peace.

“All I’m saying,” Silvy continued, “is that maybe you two have more in common than you think. And maybe you should judge Wade by who he is, not where he came from.”

The words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. I turned away, busying myself with straightening already-straight books. “Don’t you have another dentist appointment to get to?”

“Actually, I have a date.”

That got my attention. “With Dr. Matthews?” I squealed and clapped my hands.

“The very same.” Her grin was infectious. “See? At leastsomeof us aren’t afraid to take chances on hotter than Hades professionals who waltz into our lives unexpectedly.”

“That’s different,” I protested. “You and James only met for the first time last month. And there’s no... complications.”

“Ah yes. Complications. And what complications do you and Wade have exactly?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. How could I explain something I didn’t understand myself? The way he looked at me lately… like he was waiting for something. The fragments of memory I kept having that didn’t quite fit together. The feeling that I was missing something important.

“Okay. Stepping off my soapbox for now. Absolutely be careful with that heart of yours, Em, I know you have your reasons to be guarded,” Silvy said softly, heading for the door. “Just don’t be so careful that you forget to use it.”

The bell chimed as she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the stubborn glitter that refused to be swept away. Just like the nagging feeling that Wade James wasn’t just another chapter in my story—he might be one I’d read before.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of customers, coffee, and inventory tasks. By closing time, my shoulders ached from restocking the heavy art books and rearranging the new fiction display. The door chimed just as I was about to flip the sign.

“Still finding glitter?” Wade asked, stepping inside.

“I’m pretty sure it’s multiplying.” I tried for a casual tone, despite the way my pulse sped up. “What brings you by so late?”

“Thought you might like some help closing up.” He held out a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like Sandy’s famous chocolate chip cookies. “Peace offering for enabling Silvy’s sparkle revolution this morning.”

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