Page 3 of Embers in Autumn
That caught her. Her eyes widened, a spark flaring behind them. She hugged both books to her chest like they’d already chosen her.
“That’s more like it,” she whispered.
Behind me, Dean chuckled. The sound was low, warm, a vibration that ran straight through me.
“She’s got you pegged, huh?” he said, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and pride.
Lana grinned up at him, hugging the books tighter. “Yeah. She gets it.”
My heart tugged, sharp and unexpectedly soft.
Dean stepped closer, his presence filling the space between the shelves. “You always this good at talking kids into leaving with half your stock?”
“It’s a gift,” I said lightly, though my pulse betrayed me by skipping when his storm-gray eyes met mine and lingered.
His gaze flicked away, roaming the shelves, the little readingnook by the window, the record player in the corner. He sipped his coffee before saying, “I have to ask… owning a bookstore. In this economy. Is that actually a viable business?”
The bluntness might’ve stung, if not for the curiosity in his tone—like he wasn’t trying to insult me, just genuinely trying to understand.
“It’s… a challenge,” I admitted. “Not exactly a path to riches. But people still crave connection. Some love the smell of paper, the feel of it in their hands. The way a shop like this can make you feel like you’re stepping into another world. And that? Amazon can’t ship it in a box.”
Dean gave a slow nod, but before he could answer, Lana piped up.
“Dad’s not wrong, though. Most people order books online now. It’s faster, cheaper. I read something that said bookstores are kind of a dying art.” She put backA Wrinkle in Time, her voice softening. “But some people still love coming to places like this. I do.”
Something caught in my throat at that. The honesty in her voice, the way she said it like it mattered that this shop stayed alive.
Dean’s eyes swept over the space again, slower this time. When he finally looked back at me, there was a flicker of approval there. “At least you’re not paying rent,” he said. “Owning the house helps.”
I nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. That’s the one thing I don’t take for granted.”
Our eyes caught and held a beat too long. His were thoughtful, steady, with a flicker of something I could not name. Then Lana tugged his sleeve, her face lit with excitement.
“Dad, can I get this one?” She held upAmari and the Night Brotherslike she had just uncovered buried treasure.
Dean’s stern expression softened in an instant, a fond smilebreaking through. “Yeah, bug. You can get that one.”
At the counter, Lana set the book down with care, smoothing the cover as though it might wrinkle. Then, as if she could not resist, she reached for the display of candles. Two jars joined the pile:Pumpkin ChaiandAutumn Woods.
I grinned. “Excellent choices. Those are bestsellers in this house.”
Dean looked at the candles with open suspicion. “Candles. In a bookstore.”
I raised a brow while reaching for the brown paper and string. “You say that like you’re about to write me a citation.”
His jaw tightened as he gave me that steady, no-nonsense look. “You know how quickly one of these could turn a place like this into an inferno?”
I paused, caught off guard, then tilted my head with a teasing smile. “Are you always this tense about scented candles, or is this a special occasion?”
No flicker of amusement crossed his face. His voice was calm but solid, heavy with experience. “I’m a firefighter. I’ve seen what happens when people think candles are harmless. One mistake, one spark, and all this”—his hand swept toward the shelves—“is gone in minutes.”
The seriousness in his tone wasn’t sharp, but it carried weight. The kind of weight that came from nights he would not tell stories about. It made the air shift, made me notice the faint scar along his wrist, the strength in his hands, the quiet in his eyes.
I paused, the wrapped candles in my hands, studying him. For the first time, I noticed the faint scar running along the inside of his wrist. It wasn’t hard to imagine him hauling heavy hoses, kicking through doors, pulling people into safety.
Beside us, Lana let out a long, dramatic sigh and looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sorry. My dad’s a total killjoysometimes.”
Something warm bubbled up in my chest, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
