She gives me a smile and nods, turning back to the shelving. I stare at Liam wide-eyed, trying to convey the message to him – pick up my panties! He looks at me blankly for a moment, but when I cut my eyes to the floor again, he finally looks down at the ground at his feet.
His eyes widen, and he stifles a laugh once he sees my panties lying there in a crumpled heap. I'm half-afraid that because he seems to be enjoying the spectacle, he's going to point them out to Mrs. James. Thankfully though, he quickly leans down and subtly picks them up – tucking them away in his pocket.
“She likes those Twilight books,” Mrs. James says, distaste dripping from her tongue. “I wish she'd read something with a little more substance, you know?”
“Personally, I think as long as she's reading, that's a good thing,” I say. “Tastes are developed and refined over time. She may be reading Twilight today, but I'd be willing to bet that eventually, she's going to be reading the classics.”
“I certainly hope so,” Mrs. James replies.
My legs are still shaky, but I manage to walk her over to the YA section. Once there, I reach out and pick up a copy of a new release. Mrs. James looks at the cover of the book and sneers.
“If she likes vampires, this has a strong female lead,” I say. “And while there's a love story, it's not the focus of the book. She's a lesser known author, but I think your granddaughter would really enjoy it if she liked Twilight.”
I look over at Liam who finishes shelving the books. Mrs. James looks over at him and smiles again.
“And what is it you do, Mr. Anderson?” she asks.
“Oh, I was just helping Ms. Samuels around the bookstore,” he says casually. “But, if everything looks good, I think I'm going to –”
“Oh yeah, totally. Everything's good,” I say quickly, waving him off. “All good.”
I can't bring myself to meet his gaze and I suddenly feel incredibly foolish for almost fucking him right here in my bookstore. A man I hardly know. I quietly thank God that we were stopped before we went any further.
“Thank you, Liam. For everything.”
“Anytime,” he says, licking his lips as he shoots me a knowing glance.
My heart races as he turns to leave the bookstore, and I can't help but stare at his ass as he walks away. Damn. What has gotten into me? Letting a man go down on me, in my bookstore? And nearly fucking him here too? If Mrs. James hadn't come in when she did, I probably would have.
Thank God, she did, I think to myself.
Even though part of me is disappointed, I tell myself that it is for the best, as the door jingles, signaling Liam's departure.
After all, I'm not that type of girl, and even though there's something about him I find incredibly alluring, Liam is not the type of man that I want to date.
Chapter Sixteen
Liam
“Christ, brother,” Brayden says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I say. “Cuts and bruises. No big deal. I've had worse from dad's old belt.”
Brayden chuckles and nods. “The belt. Yeah, I remember that thing,” he says. “Good times.”
I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my coffee, chatting with my brother over Skype. Hemingway is curled up on a large pillow I keep in the corner of the room for him, snoozing away. I envy my dog at that moment. At that moment, there's nothing I'd like more than to curl up and go to sleep.
Well – that's not exactly true. As snippets of my encounter with Paige in her shop yesterday flit through my mind, I can think of something else I'd rather be doing – her. But, that's not an option at the moment, so sleep is the next best option. For some reason, I feel exhausted. Like I could sleep for days.
“The cops have any clue who the guy was?”
I shake my head. “None,” I say. “But, they're trying to lift prints off the knife.”
Brayden runs a hand through his hair. “You're lucky, Liam,” he says, his tone serious. “That could have gone really bad for you.”
I shrug. “It didn't.”
“It could have though,” he says. “What were you thinking? Why didn't you just hand over your wallet?”
“He never asked for it.”
Brayden shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you're lucky.”
“It was just the perfect end to a shit night all the way around.”
“What do you mean?” he asks. “I thought you closed the deal on that multi-use? That's a pretty nice gig.”
“That was the high point of the day,” I say. “Everything went to shit after that.”
“How so?”
I filled him in on everything that happened up to that point – having to deal with Damon Moore and Brittany at the bar. When I was finished, he whistled low and shook his head again.
“Yeah, that sounds like a pretty shit night all the way around, brother,” he says.
“Tell me about it.”
He leans back in his seat and cocks his head, a far-off look in his eyes. He gets the look on his face that says he's thinking hard about something. Brayden scratches at the stubble on his chin and finally turns back to the computer screen.
“Doesn't it seem strange to you?” he asks.
“What?”
“That Brittany shows up out of the blue like that?” he asks. “I mean, first of all – how did she know to find you at Grady's?”
It's an interesting question and one I hadn't really thought about. With everything that happened, I guess it didn't seem important. But now that I’m slightly more removed from the situation and have a clearer mind, I can see that it's a very good point. I hadn't been to the bar for weeks. Hell, I hadn't been in Seattle all that much since I left her at Savato's that night.
How did she know I would be at Grady's when I was? Hell, I didn't even know I was going until I looked up and found myself there.
“And doesn't it seem odd to you,” Brayden continues, “that after she drops this threat on you in the bar, you're attacked outside of it? The timing of it all raises some serious red flags in my head, brother.”
I let out a long breath and take another drink of coffee, my mind swirling with a million different thoughts – precious few of them making any sense at all.
“Paige floated that question out too,” I said. “She seems to think that Brittany had something to do with it.”
Brayden arches an eyebrow at me. “Who's Paige?”
I look at his image on the screen for a long moment, struck by the sudden change in topic, and not comprehending the question. And then it hits me, I'd never told him about Paige. Not that there's a lot to tell, really. And I'm certainly not going to tell him about our little tryst at her shop yesterday. That's something that's not fit for public consumption, nor do I engage in locker room talk or brag about conquests. I’m not that type of man,
There's definitely something there with Paige. Something between us. I can't define it. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Have no idea what it is. I just know there's something there. Something that I want to explore a little further – which surprises me. It surprises me greatly, in fact.
I came to Port Safira with the intention of hiding away to lick my wounds and get my head straight. Developing any sort of romantic relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. And yet, there's something about Paige that compels me. Draws me in. It seems strange, but I feel – safe – when I'm with her. I feel comfortable. Like I don't have to put on airs or subscribe to a lifestyle that's not really me.
Paige makes me feel like I can just be myself – be the guy who loves books, coffee, and his dog – and that's okay. That's enough. I'm enough. I don't get the impression from her that she's got an agenda or an ulterior motive. I don't get the feeling that she's after my money. Honestly, she's one of the most real, genuine, and down-to-earth people I've ever met.
Until I figure out what it is between us though, it's not something I want to talk about.
“She's a friend,” I say.
“You have friends?” Brayden asks and laughs. “And here I thought it was just you and Hemingway.”