Page 15 of Tattered Edges

Only, now, there wasn’t a bar between us.

Now, in the light of day, his freckles were more pronounced, his eyes were bluer, and his scowl was more intimidating. I could also make out the tiny wrinkles around his eyes. They weren’t laugh lines, exactly, but a sign of his age.

He was mysterious and debonair while concocting artistic cocktails—but he was confoundingly handsome in a wool peacoat out on the street.

His eyes danced across my face, plummeted to my feet, then took their time making their way back up. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, his frown making his scowl more pronounced as he muttered, “You?”

“Uh, hi,” I replied lamely.

I immediately regretted my word choice, and I grew warm under his gaze. Unprepared for this moment, I felt uncharacteristically shy.

Fortunately—or, irritatingly, depending on how I looked at it—Archie was quick to divert our attention.

“Rory, meet Maeve, my father’s surprise illegitimate child and the new owner of Tattered Edges.”

Instantly no longer the least bit shy, I forced myself into the space between the two men and glared up at Archie. He had me by a good five inches, but he was scrawny. Not to mention, he was really starting to piss me off.

“For thelasttime, my name is Sawyer! And okay, you weren’t harboring some long-forgotten dream of wanting an older sister. And I’m sorry my being here is proof positive that nobody is perfect. And I get that I’ve thrown a wrench in whatever plans you might have had for the bookstore, but that doesn’t give you the right to be sounbelievablyrude.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond but turned to address the redhead. At first, my eyes collided with the middle of his chest. I craned my neck back, then back some more, realizing too late we were close—reallyclose.

With a death grip on my bravado, I tried to overlook our proximity as I said, “Rory, is it? Hi. Nice to meet you.”

His brow relaxed a little, and I swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward before he simply replied, “Sawyer.”

The way his mouth wrapped around the letters of my name did something to my insides I couldn’t quite describe—but it was nice. Distractingly nice.

Except, I didn’t have time to get distracted.

“Archie mentioned a deal. What is he talking about?”

“He was going to sell me the bookstore. I own The King’s Steed, and I’m looking to expand.”

Oh. Wow. He wasn’t just some barkeeper. Heownedthe pub next door.

Right. Of course. Because he needed one more thing to make him more appealing.

I almost felt a little bad that I was going to have to ruin his plans, too.

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you, Tattered Edges is not for sale. Much as I’d like to have yet another riveting conversation about someone else’s opinion as to whether or not my decision to take over the bookstore is a good one, I’m short on time. I should be getting back. I don’t want to be late on my first day. Again, it was nice meeting you. Please excuse me.”

I didn’t bother acknowledging Archie, and neither of them spoke a word of protest at my departure.

My stomach growled as I crossed the street, and I was beginning to regret my lack of coffee consumption. A latte and a pastry sounded great, but it would have to wait. I was due to meet Victoria.

It felt a little overly-optimistic to imagine Victoria would be the pleasant, slightly older, totally mature book-nerd I wanted her to be, but I couldn’t help but to hold out hope. The last thing I wanted was to meet another person who would be irritated by the fact that I existed.

I was five minutes from the bookstore when the sky opened up and dumped buckets of rain all over me.

Somehow, it felt only right.

That was exactly the kind of morning I was having.

Ratherthanheadstraightfor the bookstore, I made a pitstop at the flat. My coat was soaked, my feet were cold and wet, and in spite of my hood, the hair around the front of my face made me look like a drowned rat. I hung my coat, changed my socks and shoes, and styled my hair half up, as if that had been my plan all along.

It was five minutes past the top of the hour when I was fiddling with my keys, trying to find the one that would grant me access to the shop through the back door, located beside the staircase. I had four keys on the ring Mr. Johnson had given me. It was the fourth one I tried that worked.

At first, I walked into what was obviously a storage closet. The overhead light was switched on, which meant I didn’t have any trouble finding my way out and into the back of the store. I hadn’t taken the time to explore the place the day before, but as I stepped into the room, I wished I had.

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