Much Ado About You(29)

There was a possibility I would die at the whimsy of it all.

“It’s like something out of Harry Potter.”

Laughing at my overexcitement, Roane squeezed my hand. “You’re very cute.”

Something in his eyes made me feel flushed. I looked away and tugged on his hand. “Let’s explore.”

I expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t, and I should have questioned it, but I didn’t.

“You know they filmed scenes from the Harry Potter films right here in Alnwick,” Roane told me as he followed me through the stacks. “At Alnwick Castle and Gardens.”

“Really? Will you take me there sometime?”

I was too busy studying the shelves to see his expression, but I heard the affection in his tone when he replied, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Evie.”

That’s when I discovered there was such a thing as a word-provoked heart flutter.

Commencing “ignore heart flutter.”

To do that, I found a way to release his hold on my hand without it being too obvious, using the crowds as obstacles. However, Roane stayed with me, seeming content to watch me peruse the shelves, moving from bookcase to bookcase. The book titles quickly became a blur as my awareness zeroed in on one thing, one person.

Him.

I felt the warmth of his presence, hovering at my back, and felt the heat of his gaze on my face. The skin on my cheek tingled, and I wondered if it had turned red under his intense regard.

My breathing grew more shallow as Roane’s fingertips brushed against the small of my back, as if he were afraid that without that lack of connection I’d somehow disappear as I moved along the stacks.

What the hell was I supposed to do with this inconvenient attraction?

Most times we hung out at The Anchor with other people as buffers. There were moments we were alone, and we were comfortable, but then I’d catch Roane looking at me in a certain way or he’d notice I’d been staring at his mouth, and the sexual tension would fill the air between us.

Like now.

Busy frantically pondering how to defuse the chemistry we shared, I hadn’t realized what book I’d halted in front of until it was too late.

A historical romance novel with a couple in a sexy clinch on the cover.

Perfect.

My cheeks were definitely bright red.

Roane’s fingertips pressed deeper against my lower back, and then I felt the whisper of his lips on my ear as he commented, “Interesting choice.”

I made the mistake of turning my head toward him and found his nose inches from mine. Our eyes locked for a second before his gaze dropped to my mouth.

Today he smelled like freshly mown grass sprinkled with musky male spice.

My body swayed slightly toward his, and Roane apparently took the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolted me away from Roane, whose mouth had been millimeters from touching mine—so close, I’d felt his breath tickle my lips.

“I just . . . want that book.” An arm reached between us, and dazed, I looked down to see a petite brunette with glasses that took up most of her face. She seemed unfazed by the fact she’d clearly interrupted an almost clinch. Instead her determined eagle eyes were on the historical romance novel.

Despite my disappointment, I decided I was ultimately grateful for the interruption. I was leaving in two weeks, and there was no point in giving in to this attraction. Neither of us would be happy with a casual physical encounter. Furthermore, I was running out of time to discover what I wanted from life. I did not need a guy muddling up my already confused headspace.

I grabbed the book for the woman, who was straining to reach the shelf, and handed it to her. She gave me a thin-lipped smile and darted away. After a second or two of staring after her, I finally drew up the courage to look at my friend.

Roane’s expression was unreadable.

Uncomfortable for the first time in his presence, I flickered my gaze over his shoulder, looking for something to distract us. Across the room, I spotted a shelf dedicated to Harry Potter.

That would do.

“Ooh,” I said, hurrying across the bookshop. Spotting the first book in the series, I removed it. Roane had followed, as I’d expected, and I turned to him, smiling through the awkwardness. “I have to get this.”

Roane bent his head toward mine to peer at the book. “Have to?”

Our eyes met, and just like that we were much too close for my body to handle. I swallowed hard, wondering how obvious it would be if I physically retreated. Pretty obvious, I guessed. “It’s, uh, well . . . the first book has a different title in the States. It would be cool to own a copy with the original UK title.”

His eyes trained on my mouth as he murmured, “What’s it called in the States?”

“The Sorcerer’s Stone, not The Philosopher’s Stone. Apparently, the publisher didn’t think Americans would associate the word ‘philosophy’ with magic.” I sounded breathless. Most likely because I was.

“Hmm.” Roane wasn’t even listening to my words at this point. His focus was on my mouth, his eyes were hooded, and he was definitely going to attempt another kiss.

Stop him! a voice screeched in my head.

It was the voice of reason.

I jerked away from him. “Anyway, I’m going to go buy it.” Wow, my voice sounded high. Unable to meet his gaze, I strode away toward the front of the store, where I’d seen the cash register.