Paper Hearts (11 page)

“Yeah, but it’s yours. Your fresh start.” She grinned. “And I want to see it.”

He knew what that meant. She’d find the space and break in if she had to, but she was going to see the building.

He hoped they could get in and out without anyone in The Book Nook spotting them. The last thing he needed was an encounter with one of those old ladies
 
—or worse, with Abigail Pressman. He’d reviewed the details of her lease, and frankly he might as well give her the space for free with what Harriet had been charging her. He dreaded the conversation he knew he needed to have before Kelly discovered the numbers.

If he were smart, he’d kick her out sooner rather than later. He never wanted to be anybody’s landlord in the first place
 
—she just happened to come with the building.

Under other circumstances he might’ve thought of that as a nice gift.

Jacob examined his building from across the street. He did love the way it looked. He had great plans for it, and regardless
of his conflict of conscience, he was anxious to practice medicine again. He needed to feel like he had a purpose. Even if he’d royally screwed things up with his own family.

Outside, Abigail’s folding sign had been set up as usual, but today there were balloons on it and two of her employees stood nearby, handing out what appeared to be drink samples.

“‘The Book Nook,’” Kate said out loud, reading the name above Abigail’s door. “How cute.”

Jacob tried not to groan. “Yeah, cute.”

“Can we go in, Daddy?” Junie tugged his hand as the three of them crossed the street. “I love books.”

“And I love coffee.” Kate took Junie’s other hand and swung her over the curb and onto the sidewalk. “This looks like such a great store.” Kate practically ran over to the girl handing out the tiny cups of what happened to be some cold coffee drink.

“You picked a good day to come in,” the girl said with a smile. “We have all kinds of activities inside for your daughter.”

Kate tugged one of Junie’s braids. “My niece.”

The employee checked her watch and knelt in front of Junie. “We’re making bracelets in about five minutes. Head to the back of the store, to the children’s section.”

“Can we, Daddy?”

Jacob glanced toward the door, wishing he could see if Abigail Pressman
 
—or those old-lady friends of hers
 
—were sitting inside, watching him.

Somehow, when he was out, he always felt their eyes on him whether they were there or not.

Junie tugged on his sleeve. He couldn’t say no to her. Not after everything she’d been through. He’d spend a lifetime trying to make amends. “One bracelet.”

She let out a cheer and ran for the door, Kate following closely behind. “Hurry up, Jakey,” Kate said, flashing a toothy grin. “You want to make a bracelet, don’t you?”

“Been a lifelong dream,” he said.

The inside of The Book Nook was indeed charming. The kind of store you’d only find in a town like Loves Park
 
—part vintage-library feel, part coffee-shop personality. The words on the wall facing the door encouraged customers to
Sit. Read. Caffeinate.
And from the looks of it, Loves Park patrons were happy to oblige. The store was bustling with activity. The children’s section at the back looked like a zoo, one he’d happily let Kate navigate.

He ducked into the nearest row, marked
Biographies
, and pretended to be engrossed in a book about a nun. What were the chances he could escape Abigail’s detection?

“Did you need help finding
 
—? Oh.”

So much for that.

She stood at the end of the row, a stack of books in her arms. “I assume you aren’t here to buy a book.”

He regarded her for a moment before answering. She really was pretty, though he got the distinct impression she had no idea. Pale skin. Big brown eyes. Light-pink lips. Untamed hair pulled into a loose braid. Chip on her shoulder. An interesting assortment of seemingly unrelated parts that fit together quite nicely.

Today she wore a loose sweater over jeans with boots and smelled of vanilla sugar.

“I might be in the market for some new reading material,” he hedged.

She looked at the book he was holding. “You have a deep interest in Benedictine nuns, do you?” Her eyebrows accused.

He stuck the book back on the shelf where he found it. “Listen, this might not be the best time, but since we’re both here . . . I was reviewing your lease.”

“Oh?” The books she held shifted as she took a step back, the one on the top slipping onto the floor. It must’ve been just enough to disrupt the whole stack because within seconds there was a pile of books at his feet.

Her face flushed red and she blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let me.” He bent down and started stacking the books.

“I can’t believe I did that.” She kept her head down as she stacked, and for a second Jacob just watched her. She must’ve sensed his attention on her because she stopped and looked at him, making him feel like an idiot
 
—and worse, a creep.

He handed her his stack. “We can talk about the lease later.”
What was I thinking?

“That’d be good.” She stood, newly stacked pile secure in her grip. “That’d be just great.” She stared at him for a few long seconds before finally turning and walking away.

He caught a glimpse of her as she reached the counter, handing over the stack of books to a young guy who wore his ball cap low on his head, making his eyes hard to see.

She sent him off to restock the books and disappeared in the back, leaving Jacob standing in the aisle, the memory of her vanilla scent lingering in the air.

A
BIGAIL RUSHED INTO HER OFFICE
and closed the door behind her. Why was her heart pounding? Why were her palms sweating? She caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror she kept on the wall.
Why
was her face beet red?

She covered her cheeks with her hands.
Get ahold of yourself, Pressman.

The knock on the door startled her, and when she turned, she knocked over her jar of pencils.

Seriously?

Mallory’s face showed up in the doorway. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t ask.”

“The kids are ready to make bracelets.”

Abigail sighed. With any luck, Dr. Jacob Willoughby would be long gone by the time she emerged from her hiding place.

What was he doing in her store anyway? Had he come to tell her she had a month to vacate the premises?

Her heart lurched at the idea. Her whole future was in his hands.

The thought shamed her. Everything she’d learned in Sunday school told her that wasn’t true, regardless of how it seemed. God was in charge of her life. Not some man with a wad of building-buying cash.

God, you said you’d never leave me.
The verse rippled through her mind.
But it sure does feel like you’re on vacation.

She followed Mallory out into the store, where two long tables had been set up with bracelet-making kits, all promoting a new children’s craft book that had just arrived. Part of Abigail’s grand plan to grow her business. She’d just dived in headfirst, determined to make The Book Nook the kind of place people would fight for.

It seemed to be working. They hadn’t been this busy on a Saturday morning in months.

But one look at her captive audience told her this was not her lucky day in any other respect.

At the second table, seated next to a little girl and a beautiful young woman, was her landlord. Something else Abigail hadn’t thought through. Standing up in front of a group of kids was one thing. Their parents? An entirely different story. And Dr. Willoughby? Worst. Idea. Ever.

She’d assumed the doctor was dating the blonde in the power suit, but it appeared that he had an actual family
 
—a wife and daughter.

Either that or he liked to play the field. She glanced again at his left hand. Still no ring.

She supposed not everyone wore a wedding ring, though she couldn’t imagine why not. She said a silent prayer of repentance for thinking someone else’s husband was handsome in the first place.

Even if he was.

Abigail cleared her throat and met Mallory’s eyes. Mal made a face that seemed to say,
“What are you waiting for?”

“Hi, everyone.” Her voice shook as she spoke. She wet her lips and tried to remember to breathe. She’d never been particularly good at public speaking. She’d have to take a look at the rest of her plans to expand the business. Having events in the store was a great idea
 
—as long as someone else did the talking next time.

She scanned the crowd. Mostly parents and children she recognized. Only a few new faces, thankfully. She accidentally made eye contact with Jacob and was surprised when he gave her a polite smile.

Probably felt sorry for her.

Abigail had to show him she knew what she was doing. She couldn’t let him think he could just push her over. And she had to make this the most exciting bracelet-making session of these kids’ young lives. She’d show him. All of them.

She held Jacob’s gaze, took another deep breath, and started speaking. This time her voice was strong and clear. She even impressed herself, the way she took charge of the room. After she gave her spiel about the book and talked the kids through the first few steps of making their bracelets, Mallory handed out instruction sheets for the parents so they could work together at their tables. Within minutes, the bracelet making had begun.

Abigail watched as the young woman with Jacob took the instructions and grinned, smacking the doctor on the side of the arm. His face brightened just slightly. He looked equal parts miserable and amused.

The girl started to get frustrated with the threads, and he read the instructions aloud, his voice patient.

“Did you forget to take your meds today?” Mallory came up behind Abigail and stuck the extra instruction sheets in her hand.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re all over the place.” Mallory stared at Abigail.

“I thought I did great.” Abigail tucked the extra sheets of paper in a folder and scanned the crowd again.

“Yeah, after your near-incoherent start.” Mallory leaned closer. “I know the doctor makes you nervous.”

“What?” Abigail said a bit too loudly. “He does not.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s hot.”

“He is my landlord. And he’s taken, obviously.”

Mallory rolled her eyes. “Is Operation Make Him Love You in play? I can help, you know.”

“Don’t you dare.” Abigail hoped Mallory could hear how serious she was.

“It’s the only way to save this place, boss.” She walked away.

Abigail already had a plan to save this place, faulty though it may be.

“I did it wrong, Daddy.” The girl sitting next to Jacob sounded like she might cry. Jacob held up the half-made bracelet and compared it to the instruction sheet, his brow furrowed. The woman with them peered over his shoulder, but she seemed confused too.

Abigail almost felt sorry for the guy.
Almost.
She walked over and sat down next to the girl. “Do you need some help?”

The girl took the bracelet and handed it to Abigail. “I did it wrong.”

“Let’s see if I can fix it.” Abigail studied the bracelet.

“My daddy isn’t good at this,” the girl said innocently.

Abigail laughed. “It just takes some practice. Maybe if you and your daddy buy the book and the bracelet-making kit, you’ll both become experts.”

The girl let out a gasp. “Can we, Daddy? Please? I want to be an expert.”

Abigail could tell Jacob was staring at her, but she stifled her smile and kept her eyes on the girl’s bracelet.

“I suppose we’ll have to get our very own kit, Junie Moon.”

Abigail glanced up in time to see him wink at the girl.

“Why don’t you go pick one out? Then we should get going,” he told his daughter.

“She’s adorable,” Abigail said after she walked away, pulling the blonde-haired woman with her.

“She gets that from my wife,” he said.

Her face flushed as if he might know that in a misguided moment, she’d allowed herself to daydream about him a bit. Before she knew he was taken. She told herself it was Mallory’s fault for suggesting she make him like her.

“Cute nickname too,” Abigail said, finishing up the bracelet.

“Also from my wife.”

She glanced up and saw the young woman he’d come in with standing a few feet behind Junie, who had located a display of dolls. There was something surprising about her. Abigail would’ve imagined Jacob with someone older
 
—more professional or elegant. Someone like Kelly. This woman couldn’t even have been thirty, and she looked . . . cool.

Like someone Abigail wished she could be friends with.

“Your wife is beautiful,” she said, a little too wistfully.

Jacob followed her gaze to where his family stood, then laughed. “Oh no, that’s not my wife. That’s my sister, Kate. I should introduce you.”

“Your sister?”

“She dropped in this morning and wanted to see the building. The people outside coaxed Junie in here.”

Abigail grinned. “So it worked.”

“What worked?”

“My drinks-on-the-street plan.” She couldn’t help feeling pleased with herself. “Got you in the door.”

His face warmed into a soft smile. “I suppose so.”

“So your wife
 
—that’s the woman I met the other day.”
Abigail attempted to sound nonchalant, but she wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

He raised a hand as if to protest. “No. That’s Kelly, my business manager. She’s . . .” She imagined he was searching for something nice to say about Kelly and wasn’t at all surprised when he came up empty.

His sister and his business partner.

Why did these revelations make Abigail’s stomach jump up like cheerleaders at a play-off game? He still had a wife.

Remember that, Pressman.

Behind her, she heard a commotion near the front counter, and she turned just in time to see Ursula Pembrooke plodding toward her.

“Abigail!”

Jacob hopped up and took a step toward a nearby bookshelf. Was he trying to hide? If so, he was being far from subtle. Abigail let out a quiet groan in spite of the smile on her face.

“Good morning, Ursula.”

“What in the world is going on back here? Where’s our table?” Apparently Ursula didn’t believe in inside voices.

“Saturday is community day at The Book Nook,” Abigail said in a quiet voice, hoping the old lady would get the hint.

“Since when?” she practically growled.

“What can I do for you, Ursula?” Abigail stepped away, though she knew Jacob was still well within earshot.

“You can start by putting my table back.”

“I’ll consider it.”

The old lady hugged her furry purse tight to her chest. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.”

Abigail’s heart jumped into her throat.
Please shut up, Ursula.
“Let’s talk business later.”

The old lady waved her off, clearly unaware that Jacob was only a few feet away. “Not the doctor problem. The other problem.”

“I have another problem?” Abigail started cleaning up the demonstration table, willing Ursula to move away from Jacob.

“The
relationship
problem.” Ursula stared at her.

Heat rushed to Abigail’s cheeks. “I have a relationship problem?” She practically squeaked out the words.

“Do you have a relationship?”

Abigail shook her head.

“Then you have a problem.” Ursula began tossing books and bracelet kits off the demonstration table and onto the long plastic ones Abigail had crammed into a too-small space earlier that morning, oblivious to the fact that children and parents were still working at them. “My nephew Duncan is in town from Tampa.”

“No way, Ursula.” Abigail didn’t even care who heard. She wasn’t going to go along with this one.

“It’s Gigi’s neighbor Ty or my nephew Duncan. Take your pick.”

Abigail gawked at her.

“Don’t pretend you have better options, what with your first-daughter-of-Loves-Park status and your, ah . . .” Ursula took her hand and motioned to Abigail, moving it up, then down as if to include, well, all of her.

Abigail heard a tiny, vocalized breath escape from her throat.

Ursula plopped her purse on the table and rummaged through it. A sort of paralyzed state had come over Abigail. She was helpless to move.

“There just aren’t a lot of eligible bachelors in this town, Miss Pressman, and you don’t exactly put yourself out there. You should really consider some makeup once in a while. Paint it up a little.”

“Ursula, please tell me the Volunteers aren’t trying to find me a match.”

Ursula stared at her for a long moment. “Of course not. I’m trying to match my nephew.” She thrust a photograph in Abigail’s direction. “Duncan. He’s an accountant. With his quiet demeanor
and his tendency to be really dry and boring, he might actually be a good fit for you.”

Abigail stared at the photo of this stranger named Duncan, who wore tiny spectacles and a gray suit and had his hair slicked back with something that made it shiny.
“A good fit for you.”

Finally
 
—after what felt like an hour
 
—Abigail felt the life return to her body. Jacob still stood a few feet away, clearly pretending not to listen as the old woman repeatedly humiliated her.

“I figure if you get together now,” Ursula said, “you might be engaged by Valentine’s Day. Surely you don’t want to spend another lonely Valentine’s Day in Loves Park. Can’t think of anything more depressing than that, especially with your sister’s big announcement.”

“I have work to do.” Abigail handed the photo back to Ursula and walked away, tears stinging her eyes.