Page 18 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

There. She had a plan.

Except that plan wasn’t anything like what she’d written in her journal this morning. And it didn’t take into account how hot Wes looked when she entered the tavern. He saw her and stood up, waving her over.

She hesitated. Why did he have thick blond hair and an easy smile?

She’d always vaguely resented the fact that people didn’t look the same on the outside as they were on the inside. She knew that well.

In the second foster home she’d been sent to, the mom, Nina, had been so pretty, and her house had been really nice. Sera had a bedroom that was just for her; she hadn’t had to share. But Nina had been exacting, and when Sera hadn’t fit the mold of what Nina thought a daughter should be, she’d been verbally abusive. After a few weeks, she asked for Sera to be moved to another home.

How could Sera know if Wes was like Nina? Pretty on the outside and rotten inside.

Maybe she should take him at his word. This afternoon she’d seen another side to him. He wanted to know more about his grandfather and her.

Okay. She’d tell him, give him the gift of knowing his grandfather in the last two years. Surely that would be enough for her to feel she’d made some amends for Ford with his grandson, and then she could have her books in peace. All she had to do was ignore his mouth with those firm lips and try not to let her eyes linger on his intense blue eyes. Sure, that was so easy to do.

Maybe he’d say something jerky. That would make everything even easier.

“Hey. I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” Wes said.

“I said I would.”

She shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair as she sat down across from him.

“That’s right,” he said, a note of resignation in his voice.

“You thought I wasn’t a woman of my word?” she asked. What did he expect from her?

“I thought maybe you’d figured out I was just trying to manipulate you into giving me the books back. And then you’d ghost me for a little bit of revenge,” he said.

“Yeah, you weren’t subtle about that.”

He shook his head. “Well, I’m not going to be subtle now. I’ve decided to stop trying to take something Grandpa wanted you to have. And to make up for being a dick, I thought I’d offer to help out in your shop for a couple of weeks.”

She leaned back in her chair, looking down her nose at him in a way she’d seen Poppy do when someone was being difficult. She hoped she was carrying off some of Poppy’s British attitude.

“Why would you do that?”

“Just for the reasons I stated, and I heard you say you were out of journals again today. If you can’t keep up with demand, it’ll be hard on you and your customers.”

“So you just thought you’d volunteer?” she asked. She’d read all about not looking a gift horse in the mouth, but this one seemed like it might be a horse of the Trojan variety.

“Sort of...”

“I knew there had to be more to it,” she said, signaling the waiter and ordering a glass of white wine. She needed to get her drink and leave before she fell for anything Wes offered.

“Not like that. I was hoping if I helped in your shop—and I’m very good at bookbinding—that maybe you’d tell me more about Grandpa,” he said. “A few weeks for a few stories. I fucked up that relationship, and you don’t owe me any information about him...but I’m hoping it will help me let him go.”

Wow.

She hadn’t expected that kind of honesty from Wesley Sitwell. She needed time to think about what he was asking. He wanted her to tell him about his grandfather. Her heart felt broken. Having always prided herself on rolling with the punches, she was having a hard time dealing with losing Ford. He’d just always treated her...like she mattered. She didn’t owe him thanks or anything; she was just a friend. Sera treasured him more than she’d let herself admit.

Some tears burned the backs of her eyes and she blinked to clear them. Ford had been family to her. A girl who had never had a clue about her own.

She’d always wanted to know more about her own, but there was no one she could have asked. And Ford had been important to her. Also, shecoulduse another set of hands making journals.

“If I agreed, you’d be a freelance worker for me. I can’t just have you working in exchange for stories. I was planning to hire someone to help, so you could fill in while I interview or train an apprentice to be a full-time employee. Would you agree to that?”

“Sure.”

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