Page 2 of The Bourbon Bet
As soon as the words leave my mouth, a wave of heat washes over me, turning into a full-body blush. I sound like a flirt. Or a weirdo.
I need to shut up around this too-handsome and intriguing man.
He chuckles. “That’s true. But today, I’m looking for a travel book for Thailand. Oh, and a fun beach read.”
A gentle flutter stirs in my chest, awakening a dormant wanderlust. One day I’m going to travel, and more than just inside an amazing story.
“Sounds like you have an adventure in your future,” I say, walking us to the travel shelf. One day, when the store is more established and the business loan isn’t eating so much of my income,I’ll travel too.
“I wish. I’m getting them for my nomad sister, Lillianna. She’s currently in Australia for another few weeks. After that, she’s heading to Thailand. She’s not big on touristy ‘hot spots,’ but if you have a book about unique travel, she’ll love it.”
Bending to the bottom shelf, I grab a travel guide that comes highly recommended by a sweet retired couple who frequent my bookstore and adore the author's worldly perspectives. I hand him the book. “Having siblings must be wonderful. I’ve always wanted them,” I sigh. Some people are so lucky.
“It depends on the sibling.” He laughs, but it holds a slight edge.
I get the sense there’s tension, but family businesses are complicated. And since I hate when people nose in my business, I don’t ask him to elaborate. Instead, I study his profile while he’s busy reading the back of the book. His thick, slightly wavy black hair is styled to perfection, and my fingers itch to mess it up, to see what it would look like rumpled from sleep—or something more interesting.
Settle down, woman. I need to stop lusting after the poor man who just wants to get a few books for his sister. Putting on my professional hat, I ask, “Are there any books you’ll be getting for yourself today?”
His face relaxes, and his other dimple makes an appearance. Double whoa. “Don’t think poorly of me,” he says. “With the Derby only a little over seven weeks away, there’s no time for fun fiction.”
“How could I think less of you? Even super busy, you came here to get books for your sister. You’re a good brother,” I tell him as we leave behind the shelves for the checkout counter.
“Or maybe I’m using it as an excuse to see you.” He gives me another heart-stopping grin.
A tingle of excitement dances along my skin. “A-are you?”
“Possibly.”
His unexpected flirting makes me daring. “Then even better. For me,” I reply. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I hold his gaze, secretly thrilled by my audacity. I’ve never been this forward with anyone, let alone someone who looks like him.
And Sebastian Blackstone is definitely something to look at. His eyes seem to darken, and he leans slightly closer. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Instead of my monthly drop-ins, maybe we could actually sit down and talk books properly sometime. There’s a new coffee place on Main that I’ve been meaning to try. I’ll be back in the city on Monday and Tuesday. Are you free on either of those days?”
My heart cartwheels in my chest. Is Sebastian Blackstone really asking me on a date? Monday is usually perfect since the store is closed, but I promised Grandma Rose I’d help with her garden project. Not that I’ll be telling my gossip-loving grandma about this. She’d have it plastered all over social media.
“Yes,” I blurt before I can overthink it. “I’m free on Tuesday after six when my store closes.” I’m writing myself into a plot I can’t control.
His smile widens. “Great. I’ll swing by around six?”
“Maybe…I close at five,” I manage, my voice surprisingly steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.
“Perfect, looking forward to it,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes me believe he means it.
I press my palm against my racing heart. Sebastian Blackstone asked me out. Me, the bookworm drowning in business loans while he commands an empire.
The monthly statements peek out from under the counter, the morning accounting I’ve been avoiding. Dad always said dreams were worth chasing, but he never mentioned how terrifying it would be when they start chasing you back.
Sebastian pauses at the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood as he glances around the store. “You know,” he says, “I’ve always wondered, what made you choose this particular location? Whiskey Row isn’t the most obvious spot for a bookstore, but it works so well.”
I follow his gaze, seeing my little sanctuary through his eyes: the mismatched furniture I’ve collected and refinished, the hand-painted signs that took me three tries to get right, and the cozy reading nook I created in the corner with cushions I found at a thrift store and recovered myself. I’m proud of what I’ve built from nothing, even as my attention snags on every imperfection. From the slight wobble in the display table to the way the paint doesn’t quite match on the trim Itouched up last month. What if he sees all the places where I’ve cut corners, where my dreams are held together with determination and discount supplies?
“It chose me,” I admit, self-conscious about how the modest space compares to what he must be used to. “When I came across the ‘For Lease’ sign online and then saw it in person, it felt right.”
The way he’s really listening shows he’s genuinely curious about my little world. Nodding, he glances around the store again, making no move toward the door. He surprises me with how much he seems to actually care.
Spending my teenage years as the scholarship kid at the private school where my mom taught English and History, I’ve seen how the wealthy operate up close. The whispers, the exclusion, the constant reminder that I didn't belong in their world. Even knowing real-life romances between different worlds like ours rarely end with a happily ever after, I’m still willing to see where this story goes.
Chapter Two
