Page 5 of Bear In A Bookstore
The fantasy book she was writing centered around the forest where elves lived, and she spent a fair amount of time daydreaming about what it would look like. Desi would know all the magical places around here. What would it be like to wander the forest with him?
Focusing on the coffee dripping into the carafe, her eyes began to lose focus. Her brain skipped down a heavily wooded path with him in front of her. The air was rich with the scent of earth and sweet blossoms, pine, and crushed leaves. Sunlight filtered through boughs, casting warm rays across her face as she ran to keep up with him as he trotted down the path. He laughed and glanced over his shoulder at her. Her breath caught at the beauty of his face, her nipples hardening with a flash flood of desire. Crossing one arm over his front, he effortlessly whipped off his shirt, revealing a heavily muscled back swathed in tanned, supple skin. There was a crescent moon shaped scar over his left shoulder blade, and another on the dip of his waist which curved into the rounded, tightest ass she’d ever—
The coffee pot chimed as the brew cycle was completed. Startling at the sound, Kora glanced around, momentarily confused as to where she was. That was odd. The scent of pine hung heavily in the air. She inhaled, tasting the notes on her palate.
Phantom scents. Strange noises.
Deep breath. Deep breath.
What had just happened? She must have dozed off and had a quick dream. It felt real, so real that her forearms were covered in gooseflesh and her body tingled. The back of her neck prickled with the oddest sensation, almost like he was in the room with her. She swore she could feel him nearby.
Either this place was haunted, or she was about to have an anxiety attack. She’d never had an aura quite like this before an anxiety episode, but sometimes she didn’t get any warning.
Please be haunted. Please be haunted.
That’s it. She was having her coffee and then going home for a nap. Pouring a cup, she sunk into the chair behind her and lifted a foot onto the desk when a loud bang sounded through the room. Coffee spilled onto her thigh as she lurched forward, scalding her flesh. With a curse, she looked to the front of the store where the sound had come from while brushing a hand over the pained spot on her leg. The door suddenly opened, and a man stepped inside, the screen door catching in the wind and driving back against the frame. He hurried to grab the handle and gently closed the door.
Damn it. She thought she’d locked the door.
He was tall, thin, and clad in khakis and a blue polo shirt with the buttons done up beneath his chin. His brown hair was carefully styled and perfectly in place. Shoes, gleaming as if they’d just been polished. He had a dark leather satchel over one shoulder . . . and a dozen black roses in his hand.
“Good afternoon. Ms. Meredith?”
She lifted her chin and eyed him warily as she stood. What the hell was with those flowers?
“Yes?”
He advanced with one hand out. “Jonathon Baker. I’m the president of the Estes Park Small Business Association. We’ve spoken on the phone.”
She remembered. She’d called early in the process of purchasing this building to ask about permits and had been met with his passive-aggressive response. Perhaps she’d caught him on an off day that time because he was all smiles right now.
“How can I help you?”
He let out an impressed breath as he glanced around. “Wow, this place is really coming along.”
There was a touch of envy in his tone. Curious, Kora moved to the end of the counter and crossed her arms.
“Have you been in the building before?” It seemed every local she’d met so far knew of the place but had never been inside. Despite rampant curiosity, people seemed to steer clear unless they’d had a cut and dried reason to come in. She hoped that theme didn’t continue once the bookstore was open.
“Oh, yes. Many times.”
His brow fell as he snapped her a look. Then he smiled again. “I must admit that I was a bit surprised when you said you were planning a bookstore here.”
“Why’s that?”
The pleasantness in his expression began to crumble. “Considering the history of this place, and all. Why, it could be on par with the Stanley Hotel as far as the macabre goes, and I’m sure you know the popularity of that place. Perhaps you can offer haunted bookstore tours.”
His polite tone had a razor-sharp edge. How could she make him leave, pronto?
“I’ll consider it.”
He thrust the flowers at her. “I thought these were fitting.”
She hesitated before accepting the bouquet, then set them on the counter. A tickle of unease bloomed inside her belly.
“Black roses. How thoughtful.”
What was this guy up to? He began to wander through the bookcases. She lost sight of him a few times behind the bookshelves stacked in the center of the room, but then he reemerged, hands in his pockets. He kept looking at the ceiling, as if the newly polished tin tiles were going to reveal a hidden message.
