It’s the truth. I’ll read it again; probably this copy, and probably soon.
“Good,” he says on an exhale, nodding. “Good.” He pauses and then changes the subject. “Now—I think I already know how you feel about that bookshop, but just in case there’s anything you want to add—tell me your official thoughts about Pretty Page as a romantic destination in Lucky, Colorado.”
“Hmm,” I say, grateful for something to help take my mind off of my discomfort. “My on-the-record analysis? For your article, you mean?”
He nods again, digging in his pocket for his phone. Some of his golden hair falls over his forehead, and he pushes it back with ease. He probably does that all the time, and it’s a move I’m weak for—a man running his hands through his hair.
Focus.
I tear my gaze away and face forward instead, which is good, because in my current jittery state of mind, I could probably trip over nothing but my own feet.
“I think that?—”
“Hang on,” he cuts me off. “I’m getting?—”
I glance over at him again when he stops speaking, only to find him holding his phone up.
“Can I record your answer?” he says.
I didn’t expect to be recorded, but I don’t mind, so I shrug. “Sure.”
He nods and then presses the red button on the screen.
“I think that bookshop in particular is a romantic hotspot for several reasons. I think it gives book lovers a place to discuss mutual interests. Books they’ve read, books they’d recommend, that kind of thing.” My eyes narrow as I think. “But mostly I just think anything themed around romance is inevitably going to be romantic. The atmosphere is great, and there are literally thousands of romance stories everywhere you turn. It’s a place where people can talk about romance. It sets the mood, sort of.”
Yeah,my obnoxious brain pipes up.Which is why you admitted to liking him in the past.
I grimace. It was meredaysago that I worried about Felix finding out I used to like him. And instead of keeping that tidbit to myselfforever and ever amen,I handed it to him on a silver platter?
“I agree,” Felix says, and I smooth my facial expression so he doesn’t look over and notice me mentally berating myself. “Not to mention it facilitates gift-giving. You can buy something for your boyfriend or girlfriend or lover—whoever.”
His gaze drops to the book still clutched in my hands, and I look at it too. It was probably more expensive, since it’s a special edition.
My eyes jump to him, searching his face, trying to figure out what I’m seeing.
He didn’t have to give me this.
All I find in my perusal of his features, though, is a faint hint of red in his cheeks.
He clears his throat loudly and then stops the recording, holding the phone up so I can see for myself that it’s not running anymore.
“Thanks,” he says, and I shrug again.
“Sure.”
We walk the rest of the way to the car in silence. Something about climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door behind me feels like locking myself in a cage. I’m entering an enclosed space with Felix, a space I can’t exit whenever I want, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“So,” he says conversationally when we’ve buckled. “I have a question.”
I sigh as something sinks in my chest, and I realize for the first time that his voice changed earlier. It was a slight difference, but when he asked if he could record me, when he asked for my official thoughts, there was a businesslike quality to his words.
That’s gone now, and we’re back to normal Felix, who’s probably about to ask the single question I don’t want to answer.
But I promised him I would answer one question honestly, and it was my fault for blurting out the truth earlier anyway. So instead of protesting, I say, “Yeah. Go ahead.”
He pauses, keeping his eyes on the road as we pull out of the parking lot and onto Main. “I actually have several questions.”
I just bet he does. “You get one.”