Much Ado About You(20)
“I’ve never wanted that.” I felt a little breathless at the intensity in his eyes. “It doesn’t do it for me. I need to feel more than just the presence of a warm body. Sex is better for me when I care about the woman I’m with.”
Already warm from my hangover, I flushed uncomfortably hot at his words. “Oh.”
His smirk was somewhat bitter. “Men aren’t supposed to want that, let alone say it, right? It makes them less of a man not to be out there sowing his wild oats. There’s something effeminate about a man who is turned off by sex with a stranger and believes wholeheartedly in monogamy.”
“Women don’t think that.” I certainly didn’t. In fact, I found his honesty way too intriguing for my own good.
“No. But like you said, everyone has this idea of what you should want out of life. And you’re right. There are places in this world where folk are just trying to survive. We’re privileged enough that our lives have moved beyond basic survival, but it means we have time to impress these stupid ideas of ‘normality’ upon each other.” He ran a hand through his bed-mussed hair. “My mum, Milly, and all the like, they badger me almost every week about ‘settling down and finding a woman to keep me company.’” Our eyes locked as he continued, “But unlike you, I know that I want that. Definitely. I want someone to love, to share life’s difficulties with, to have bairns and watch them grow. To make a little world with someone. Which means there are days, thankfully few but they exist, when it doesn’t feel so nice for all those people who are supposed to care about me to hound me about the thing I want most in life.”
Emotion clogged my throat.
Not just because I was sad that Roane felt that way.
But because for the first time in a very long time, I felt like someone saw me. Understood me. Truly.
Tears I didn’t even feel embarrassed about shimmered in my eyes as I reached for Roane Robson’s hand and curled mine tight around it. “You’ll find it, Roane.” I believed he would.
“You don’t know that.” He squeezed my hand, giving me a small smile. “You don’t know me or the future.”
“I don’t know the future, agreed. I do know you a little, and I see you a lot.”
He understood. I saw it in the way he studied my face and by the way his hand tightened in mine. “I see you too, Evie.”
It was too big a moment to share with an almost stranger, but it was happening, and it was real.
I made a decision in that moment. To put aside my attraction for Roane and embrace the connection between us. I’d felt something similar the instant I met Greer. Just like with Greer, I was determined to make a friend of Roane.
“When I have a day off and don’t feel like upchucking, do you think you can show me your farm?”
“Friends then?” he surmised, his expression relaxed and happy again.
“I just told you some of my deepest worries. We’re friends or I have to kill you.”
Chuckling at my teasing, Roane nodded. “I’ll take friendship over death.”
“Wise choice. I’m inexperienced at murder. It could get messy.”
He shook his head at my nonsense. “Hurry and eat the rest of your breakfast. Shadow and I need to get to work, but we’re not leaving until you’ve had at least three more bites.”
Groaning, I glared at my plate. “I don’t think I can.”
“Well, it’s that or I remind you of the moment last night you started singing a song called ‘When You’re Good to Mama’ to Old Man Thompson.”
My eyes widened in horror, and Roane began to shake with laughter. “From Chicago?”
He shrugged. “You said it was from some musical.”
Yes. The musical Chicago.
“‘When you’re good to Mama, Mama’s good to you,’” I squeaked out.
Roane gave a bark of laughter. “It was the best night of Old Man Thompson’s life. We thought he’d need his pacemaker checked.”
“You did not!” I gasped, aghast.
Seeing him bury his face in his hand with laughter, I smacked him playfully across the back. “Stop!”
Unfortunately, that only made him laugh harder.
Seven
It was opening day, and while I should have been excited, I was thankful for the heavy rain falling outside because it meant I could sit behind the counter and nurse my hangover without interruptions from customers.
Penny had informed me it was time to order titles for the new releases bookcase, and she trusted me to do this. I thought that was huge. She gave me a budget, and the distributor resources that offered some insight into what titles were popular for the season. As a reader of all genres, and part of the online book community, I felt I had a finger on that particular pulse. Still, I was grateful Penny trusted me to order new stock, and it was fun! For a moment, I forgot I was ordering them for the store, and not for myself.
However, the work also opened my eyes to the complexity of stock rotation for an independent bookstore. Hours passed as I attempted to work out Penny’s ordering history. I knew she worked with the local schools and ordered titles the kids would be reading in school every term. That had already been done for the current term.
There also appeared to be a seasonal pattern. For example, she ordered any new books about the area around late spring/summer along with the latest bestselling children’s books. Yet, as I fell farther down the stock-taking rabbit hole, I discovered there were a lot of nonfiction titles that just weren’t selling. I itched to plump Penny’s summer stock with beach reads.