Awakening (11 page)

He’d been an ass. He’d had no right to say the things he did to her and he knew it, but how could he apologise if she didn’t come back into the store? He’d meant what he’d said, though. She
was
being careless. Falling asleep in the store. Come on. She obviously wasn’t taking care of herself. She needed a damn keeper. She needed to show the hell up so he could make sure she was OK.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the danger he’d inadvertently placed her in. There was a reason people said that a little knowledge was a dangerous thing. What if this man she was with was as inexperienced as she was and did something that hurt her? Or, worse, what if he was experienced and deliberately set out to hurt her?

She was ripe for the picking at this stage. Her mind was fertile and open, just waiting for someone to come along and till the ground he’d made sure was ploughed and ripe for planting.
Dammit!

‘What’s got you looking so foul?’ Bridget plopped her books down on the counter and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

‘Nothing.’ Evan picked up her books and began stacking them in order of size rather than look at her.

‘Doesn’t look like nothing.’ She leant against the counter. ‘In fact, it looks very much like something.’

‘Bridget, stop poking that lovely little nose where it doesn’t belong.’ He gave her a hard look in the hopes of getting her to back down.

‘Compliments will get you everywhere, my boy, but they won’t back me off –’ she waved a hand in his direction ‘– so quit trying to scowl at me. It’s never worked before, it won’t work now.’

Evan smiled at her despite himself. He’d always liked Bridget, and he’d felt honoured when he’d realised that she actually trusted him enough to relax around him. He took that responsibility seriously and had always done his best to respect that gift. Right now, though, he really wished she’d just mind her business.

‘Evan –’ she reached out and placed her hand over his where it lay on her stack of purchases ‘– you’re going to have to make this right. This was her favourite place to be, and you ran her out of here. What is going on with you and her anyway?’

Evan snatched his hand out from under hers and stood up so fast the stool pushed back. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing is going on with us.’ He grabbed up a bag and began shoving her books inside. ‘What makes you say something like that anyway?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you get all snarly and scowly when she’s mentioned. You blew up at her for no reason. Something you’ve never done, not even with Marianne. And now, the mention of her name has you acting all defensive.’

Evan came around the counter and handed Bridget her purchases. Placing a firm hand on her lower back, he unceremoniously guided her toward the exit. Opening it with one hand, he all but pushed Bridget out the door. ‘Love you, Bridget, but I’m closed.’

Locking the door behind her, Evan flipped the sign to “closed” and headed back to the register to close out.

Bridget meant well, but she was treading on dangerous water. And of course, he’d never blown up at Marianne; she’d had him to look after her. Claire, on the other hand, didn’t have anyone. Scratch that,
had
no one. She was with mystery man now.

Dropping the money he’d been counting, Evan sighed deep and hard. He was going to have to find a way to get her back in the store so he could check up on her. If anything happened to her, he’d be responsible, and he didn’t want that on his head.

Bridget sat behind the wheel of her midnight blue Mustang GT and watched Evan through the bay window. That man was lying to himself or her name wasn’t Bridget Ross. She’d never seen him so disturbed. He was prickly and distracted and downright defensive at the mere mention of Claire’s name. She’d wondered if the day would ever come that he’d wake up and remember he was alive.

She’d loved Marianne dearly, but Mari was dead and Evan was alive. He could do much worse than Claire. Oh, she’d heard all about how Evan had dressed Claire down like a child. She’d also heard how Claire had stood right up to him and given him a piece of her mind. She’d been proud of her new friend. Claire needed more self-defining moments. She also needed Evan to wake up and realise he wanted her. Claire wasn’t under any self-delusions on her end. She knew she had it bad for Evan, and staying away was killing her.

Again, Bridget had to give her friend props for sticking to her guns. But she had a feeling there was more going on here than was apparent. Something had triggered Evan’s outburst. That was very out of character for him.

Claire, for her part, had blossomed. She’d finally reconnected with her brother … Bridget’s gasp was audible as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Evan routinely went to the Silver Theatre, Claire and Marcus had gone to Luna Bella – had he seen them?

Bridget grinned as she started the Mustang and pulled out into traffic. Oh yes, Evan was definitely waking up.

Claire’s finger hovered over the delete button on the screen of her phone. Twice now she’d listened to the message, and twice she’d told herself to delete it. Her finger descended, pressing lightly on the screen, and Evan’s voice filled the loft.

‘Claire. This is Evan from Bibliophile. I’ve calling to inform you that you are the winner of the free book for Valentine’s Day contest. All of the book club members were automatically entered and you’re the winner. Please stop by the store to claim your free book at your convenience. Thank you.’

She could feel herself wavering. Her damn hands were even shaking just from the sound of his voice. Her name in his smoky timbre sent little shivers along her spine. Staying away from Bibliophile had been one of the hardest things she’d had to do, but there was no way she was going to stay there and let him talk down to her like that. Regardless of what he might think of her, she wasn’t an idiot, and she just couldn’t stand back and take his disgust and disdain any longer. She was claiming her life for better or worse, and that included not allowing herself to be talked down to.

A sharp pain jabbed into Claire’s palm. She was gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles were white. Inhaling deeply, Claire forced herself to relax. She wasn’t angry so much as hurt. The sad reality was that she was lost on him. Despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t get him out of her head. He was in her dreams, her fantasies, her thoughts. He had become a near-constant drumbeat in her mind.

She wanted badly to return to the store, as much for the environment and people she’d come to enjoy. Jean’s call this morning had been hilarious in its absurdity.

‘Claire. This is completely unacceptable.’ Jean’s voice had been shrill enough to cause Claire to hold the phone away from her ear. ‘You have to come back. I’d finally broken you, after all. I’m kidding, of course, but only a little bit.’ She laughed, a long, horsey laugh, but Claire smiled nonetheless. Jean was good people.

‘Jean …’ She tried to interrupt the deluge that Jean was hurling her way. No such luck. Eventually, Jean’s voice faded into a shrill
whah, whah, whah
like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

‘OK?’ Jean’s narrative suddenly took shape again on the question.

Claire’s pulse jumped. She had no idea what Jean had asked her. With a sharp, mental shake she just winged it. ‘Jean, look. I really enjoy the club, but I’m just not sure right now if I’ll be back.’

At Jean’s deep inhale, Claire rushed forward to stave off another flood. ‘Now, I’m not saying no. I’m saying let me think on it, OK?’

‘Well …’ Jean drew the word out as if she were looking for a weakness in Claire’s defences. ‘I guess, but I’m not happy about this not one bit. Why, Evan got an earful from me, he did. I don’t know what’s gotten into that man, he never acts like this. It’s so out of character. I’ve just never seen him this way.’

‘What do you mean?’ Claire cringed even as the words left her mouth. She didn’t want to know. Really, she didn’t.

‘I mean he’s stomping around his store like a bear with a sore paw. I’ve never seen him act so grumpy. Not even when Marianne was sick. You’d think he’d lost a fight or something.’

Claire had no idea what to make of that, and her silence has apparently translated to Jean as permission to launch into another monologue on how no one was cooperating with her and if everyone would just get on board with her, things would resolve themselves.

Finally, Jean blew herself out, and Claire graciously ended the call with promises to think hard about coming back to Bibliophile. Sitting there now, though, Claire felt no more certain than she did before. The last thing she needed right now was an even more surly Evan making her feel stupid. She was only just starting to feel like a human being again.

Nope, no thank you. With a decisive nod, Claire called up the message on her phone and deleted it.

The bell chimed as Claire entered Bibliophile. She was a goddamned fool, but the instant she’d deleted Evan’s message she’d scrambled and cursed herself as she tried to get it back. Who came up with the brilliant notion of not allowing for undeleting voicemail? Finally, she’d thrown the phone into the couch and just plopped down, her face in her hands. She was ridiculous. He didn’t want her, and she was mooning over him like some kind of lovesick teenager.

A long walk with Chester and some sushi had done nothing to make her feel any better, and she’d had to come to the hard realisation she was fooling herself. She was going back. He’d opened the door, whether he’d been forced to or not, and she was going to walk through it.

Now, though, standing back inside the store once again, feeling the ambiance and aromas sink into her bones, she felt both as if she’d returned home and she was about to go on trial. It really was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a child, and this was a bookstore of which he was the proprietor. Nothing more.

Claire snorted mentally.
Right
. She wanted Evan like she wanted to breathe, and was silly enough to just hang around him and torture herself in the doing of it. Even still she wasn’t willing to fully concede. She’d made sure to come fairly close to closing, giving herself just enough time to browse a bit, pick out her book, and head home. Truthfully, she already knew which book she was taking home, and she wasn’t going to let embarrassment stop her, but she figured she’d take some time and browse for some other selections while she was there.

A quick glance around seemed to indicate that she was alone. The store was deserted; not even Evan was around. She refused to dwell on her simultaneous disappointment and relief at that realisation. Determined to get on with things, Claire set off down the aisles, a woman with a purpose. Her shoulders were square and her head was high. As she got closer to her destination, she glanced furtively around, only to laugh out loud at her silliness and take a deep breath. It was buying a book, not drugs.

A quick scan of the shelves showed that Evan had added yet again to his erotica collection, but she wasn’t interested in new selections. She was interested in the one book she’d never even been willing to take off the shelf. She’d heard of the book, but had been repulsed by her instant sexual stimulation and had refused to even entertain reading it. Even once she’d come to Bibliophile she’d avoided it like the plague. It seemed too much like crossing a line she’d never be able to come back from.

Her eye landed on the spine like it was a lodestone and her breath hitched just a little as she reached for it. She quickly flipped it into her hand, grabbed a few other standard romances off the shelf that she’d wanted as well, and headed back to the sitting area to browse her books before buying.

Evan’s gut clenched as the tinkle of Claire’s laughter reached him in the store room where he was checking in the shipment that had arrived earlier that day. The sound raced through his veins like a bullet. It burned through him before settling in his cock, which twitched and lengthened painfully. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Damn it!
He smacked the wall hard and focused on the searing pain that reverberated through his joints. She was just supposed to feel welcome back in the store. He wasn’t supposed to start lusting after her again.

The pain began doing its job, and his cock deflated. He took several deep breaths, grabbed a stack of new releases that he wanted for the front window and, squaring his shoulders, opened the door and stepped out to meet his personal hell, only to have his entire body betray him once again.

She looked phenomenal. Whoever it was that she was dating, he apparently was treating her well. She looked radiant. Her hair was curling slightly around her face and she was dressed simply in a red, silk halter dress that set off her skin and made her seem like a siren come to call him to his doom. His gut clenched hard in the knowledge that he very much wanted to go to his doom with her.

She was, however, reading a book upside down and holding it like it was going to fly out of her hands if she relaxed her grip. His entire body deflated just like that. She was still out of sorts because of him. On that thought, Evan took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before walking over to the sitting area and setting his stack of books down on the table. Her knuckles went snow white around the book she was holding, and he heard a distinctly sharp indrawn breath. Not a good sign.

He settled his tall frame into the chair facing Claire, and waited for her to look at him. And waited. And waited. She never took her eyes off the book she clearly could not be reading. She just sat there, unmoving, the book clenched in her hand like a talisman of protection, and said nothing. Finally, he conceded defeat.

‘Claire.’ He spoke softly, feeling like he’d spook her if he spoke too loudly. She didn’t acknowledge him at first, just continued to ignore him. The moment dragged to the point where he’d gladly have peeled off his own skin, but he knew she’d heard him. Then, finally, he saw her take a deep breath and squeeze her eyes briefly before raising them to meet his. The wariness he saw there made his heart sink.

‘Claire,’ he started again, leaning just a bit forward as he spoke, ‘I owe you an apology.’