Page 6 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

Her mouth tightened in a frown.

“Not really. Are you here to deliver some extra threat if I show up at the funeral?” she asked. “I checked with the church and you can’t ban me from attending. Also, I think Ford would be disappointed to know you tried to.”

“Then you didn’t know Ford very well.”

“To be fair, I’ve only known him for a couple of years,” she said. “Not the lifetime I assume you’ve had with him.”

“Exactly, so why did he give you that box of books?” Wes asked. “What exactly did you do with him for two years?”

The smile left her face as she glared at him. “What do you think we did?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew,” he said.

“But you have some idea,” she retorted.

“I do.”

She just stared at him, as if daring him to say what he was thinking. He hadn’t been this irritated by a woman in a very long time. He wasn’t sure who she thought she was dealing with. “Were you fucking?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times and then turned and walked away from him without another word.

Two

Fucking?

She hated that he’d rattled her. When she’d seen him standing across the store, it had been hard to keep from looking at him again and again. He was ticking all her boxes, or had been until she’d realized who he was.

Also, what was wrong with her gut? She had been getting turned on watching his long fingers as he’d run them along the books on the shelf while he waited for her.

Sex.As if that were the only reason Ford would want to spend time with her. Shaking her head, she walked away from Wesley Sitwell. Trying very hard to ignore the fact that he didn’t look like the evil toad demon he actually was.

His face reminded her of Ford’s. But where Ford’s hair had thinned and turned gray, Toad Sitwell’s was thick, a rich honey blond that almost made her fingers tingle with the thought of touching it. His jaw was strong and his nose sort of Romanesque, much like Ford’s had been. But where Ford’s eyes had radiated a kind intellect, there was only suspicion and accusation in the younger Sitwell’s blue eyes.

He wore a tweed overcoat with the collar up at the back. He’d opened it when he entered her shop and she noticed he had on a formfitting black cable-knit sweater and a pair of matching pants underneath. His chest didn’t look overdeveloped, which normally she liked in a guy, but this time was a mark against him. In fact, she didn’t like the firm line of his jaw or his mouth either. No matter that the deep timbre of his voice conjured an image of a man—not him—reading to her by a crackling fireplace after they’d had sex.

She wasn’t sure why she was dwelling on his clothing except it gave her an extra few minutes to think of what she was going to say.

But really, did she owe this man a response?

“As if the only reason your grandfather would spend every Thursday morning with me for the last two years was so I could hook up with him,” she said. “Grow up, Sitwell. Women can have friendships with men—even older men—without having sex with them. I’m not sure where you’re from or who you—”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked a few times, and then let his apology sink in. Then she gave him a tight smile and admitted to herself that she was floundering again. He had thrown her with his apology. To be fair, it was something Ford would have done if he’d said something to hurt her feelings.

Having any of Ford’s relatives think she’d conned her way into his life using sex was preposterous. She wasn’t the kind of woman anyone expected to trade on her looks to get things.

He’d literally just seen her wild hair break a ponytail holder.

“Sure,” she said.

She walked back behind the counter, glancing around the shop, which was quiet but not empty. Two teenagers, who she knew were homeschoolers, had obviously heard the exchange, and both were trying to be cool as they pretended to study a book they’d picked up from the shelf.

She smiled at them, trying to hide her unease.

God.This was turning into a really crap day. As soon as she was behind the counter, she reached out and rubbed her fingers over the jade stone that Liberty had charged for her during their last new-moon ritual. It was meant to bring knowledge and resolve difficult situations. The fact that her last difficulty had been whether or not she should renew her Netflix account or switch to a new streaming service wasn’t lost on her.

He walked to her and stood on the other side of the counter. “Can we start over?”

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