Much Ado About You(72)

I grinned. “Very Shakespearean. I think you’re a poet who doesn’t know it.”

Gentle amusement lit his dark eyes, but he said, “I’m serious, Evie.”

“Yes. And I hear you. But you’re also very sexy, so why don’t we stop talking about this and hurry back to the bookstore for a quickie before Caro comes home?”

Roane’s chair screeched across the floor before I’d even finished the sentence, and as he hurried out of the pub, my hand in his, shouts of good-natured but mortifying encouragement followed us.

Normally I’d be disconcerted that an entire pub full of people knew I was about to commence having hot sex with my boyfriend.

My boyfriend.

However, due to the aforementioned boyfriend, I was too happy to care about anything but him.





Twenty


Although I had encouraged Caro’s venturing out to rent her own place, I missed her when she left. It didn’t help that her departure happened so abruptly. We all took time out of work the next day to see the house in Beadnell, and Caro and I fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in.

The kitchen was big enough for her to bake from home, and the views were spectacular.

After Roane asked a bunch of questions about utility bills, council tax, heating costs, maintenance charges, and all the boring but necessary stuff, he gave Caro his blessing.

As long as he got to install a security system.

She agreed.

Two days later she’d moved into her new home. Furthermore, Caro had talked with Tony, and although she didn’t want to work for him, they came to an agreement that he could sell a selection of her baked goods two days a week at his bakery, but it would cost him. This snowballed into Caro having business cards designed and asking Roane to hand them out to local businesspeople, some of whom had already tasted Caro’s baking over the years. She got bookings within a day.

She’d started to see a therapist, and I could see the positive affects her sessions were having on her. Every day she seemed to grow more confident in her choices. This was helped by the news from Roane that Helena hadn’t exactly been destitute—just greedy and spiteful. Caro seemed to relax knowing that she hadn’t left Helena in desperate straits. Roane made it clear that Helena wouldn’t be coming after Caro for money or to cause her upset. She was too afraid Roane would make good on his promise.

By the end of the first week Roane and I had spent as a couple, Caro was transformed. I’d barely seen her because she was rushed off her feet. I was proud of her, but I was also worried she was trying to do too much too soon to get her business off the ground. Still, I wasn’t her mom. She had to be free to do things her way.

Also, I was a little preoccupied myself.

Being in a relationship with a sexy farmer was somewhat challenging time-wise. Roane was a busy guy. He tried to pop into the store at lunchtime every day to see me, and then he and Shadow would appear at my apartment for a late dinner. Sometimes we’d go to the pub, but mostly we stayed in bed. The guy was used to running on less than five hours of sleep but, considering he reached for me in the early hours of the morning every night, pulling me out of sleep to either ravage me or make love to me, it was a miracle he wasn’t a zombie at work. He awoke before sunrise, which was around four forty-five a.m. in these parts during the summer. Sometimes I woke up and felt his kiss goodbye and sometimes I didn’t, sleeping right through until my alarm went off a few hours later.

There were days I found myself drifting off in the armchair of the bookstore, marveling over Roane’s boundless energy. And stamina.

Oh yes, that man had stamina.

Moreover, he was so considerate. Sometimes he’d get phone calls in the evening about work, and he always went downstairs to the bookstore to take them “so he wouldn’t disturb me” if I was watching TV or reading a book. I insisted he didn’t have to do that, but Roane was always thinking about my needs and wants.

Inside and outside the bedroom.

I was falling for him.

Which was why I’d felt it prudent to call Greer to update her.

Just in case . . . well, just in case I made a decision that would affect how much we saw each other in the future.

It was around eight o’clock in the morning in Chicago when I decided to call. I’d turned the sign on the store door to closed and ventured into the storeroom to multitask. Stock had come in that morning. Cracking open the boxes, I dialed Greer as I sorted through the new books.

She’d listened quietly as I explained what was happening between my farmer and me.

Then said nothing when I drew to a close.

“Greer?”

“What do you want me to say?”

A flicker of annoyance flashed over me, but I kept it out of my voice. “That you’re pissed at the implications but, ultimately, happy for me.”

“Pissed at the implications? So, you’re seriously considering moving to England for a guy you’ve only known for a few months? A guy you’ve only been dating a week.”

That flicker was suddenly a flame. “Don’t make it sound like that. You know it’s more complicated than that. And you know me. I don’t throw myself into relationships willy-nilly.” I scowled ferociously. “What happened to being supportive of this?”

“I don’t want to lose my best friend to England, I’ve said that from the start. But I could get over that if living there made you truly happy. However, I’m worried about you. I’m worried about your heart. You’ve fallen for some guy you don’t even know!”