“I was pushed out of my comfort zone when Bri left the entirety of Celtic Connections to me. Before that, I was a matchmaker. She called me a VP, but at the core of it, she sawthat I worked best one-on-one. When our matches started to marry—and tell others about us—she started doing these mixers. I hated them. I still do. All that pretentious mingling and pretending…that’s not me. It can be very superficial with that many people, each trying to outwit or out-smile the next person. It becomes tiring, and at the end of it, all I want to do is go home, kick off my Docs, and binge-watch some mindless TV.”
She glanced down at his leather boots and a smile teased her lips. “Ah. I see you do indeed own a different kind of footwear.”
He smiled ruefully. “See? I told you they weren’t work-appropriate.”
“You remember so many details,” Ellie noted. “When we had Reginald’s mixer, you remembered something about each woman, like you’d had hours of conversation with her.”
“Practice. Choose one or two things about each person, review that person’s file before the event, and fake it until I make it. It’s how I made it through the mixers when I was a matchmaker. Now that I’ve stepped back from that role, I usually don’t have to attend them, unless the client pays extra for me to be there. Typically I delegate that out.”
“The benefit of being the boss,” she murmured.
“Absolutely. During your store book signings, who is out with the audience, encouraging the crowd to ask questions?”
“Usually Norman,” she conceded. “I agree. Being the boss is pretty amazing.”
“Especially for people like us. I’m comfortable around my family. And I’m only comfortable around new people when I’m introduced one-on-one. If I can avoid mixers and news conferences, I’m happiest.”
“I hear you,” she muttered, making him chuckle. She smiled at Gwen’s loud laughter, and Colin felt it all the way to his soul.
Ellie needed someone who could give her all the thingsshe wanted out of life. He wasn’t relationship material; he bounced from place to place and time to time so much, even he lost track of it sometimes. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew what he should do.
And both options scared the daylights of out him.
Chapter 14
“Um, Colin?”
He glanced down at her. “What do you need?”
Ellie chewed her lip, unsure how to ask, as a blush stole over her cheeks. Claire and Gwen were still dancing up a storm, having the time of their lives…but she really needed to use a bathroom.
Did they have Porta-Potties in medieval times? Ellie guessed she was about to find out.
“I have to, um, use the facilities. The washroom.”
Understanding dawned on his face, and he gave a swift nod. “There are a couple of public garderobes, but it’ll be more sanitary behind a tree.”
Mortification swamped her. “Oh, um, okay. Never mind, I’ll be fine.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s the Middle Ages, El. Modesty is not really a thing. When you take your baths, doesn’t your chambermaid undress you and help you into the tub?”
“Well, yes, but—”
He took her elbow and turned her away from the festivities. “Come on. It’s not a big deal.”
Ellie took a few deep breaths to calm herself.
She could handle many, many things in life. She handled the people who entered her bookshop and thought she couldn’t possibly know the difference between Machiavelli and Michelangelo. She could handle her aunt’s constant mother-henning. She could even handle the Tube in all its glory at rush hour in high tourist season.
But Colin leading her to some secluded spot to relieve herself? Handling that reality seemed beyond her ability.
She lingered behind the tree for a few minutes longer than strictly necessary. When she felt she’d dawdled long enough—and thought that she could paste on a smile and adopt Colin’s fake-it-til-you-make-it mentality, she stepped out from behind the trees, then stopped suddenly.
She didn’t see Colin. “Colin?” she tried.
“Lady Claire?” A rather rough-looking member of the garrison stood before her, his sword strapped to his back and knives tucked all over the straps of his boots.
Ellie jumped.