When I stumbled across the rental listing for the little shop in downtown Sonoma, I just knew it was fate. Even before I left the blustery cold of the Middle River, I could feel the warm California sun on my skin and picture myself driving past miles and miles of picturesque vineyards. I could start fresh and be anyone I wanted to be.
Of course, in my fantasy, I had a convertible, giant sunglasses and endless free time to explore wine country all by myself. The reality of running a business is something else entirely. Long days stuck inside, assembling bookshelves, painting, ordering books, organizing, cleaning, bills, and never-ending paperwork.
I’d be miserably lonely if it wasn’t for the sisters at the bakery across the road. One week after signing my lease, I put a sign up in my shop window reading:
Coming Soon...
Sorry, I’m Booked!
A Romance Bookstore for Everyone
Within minutes, Olive and Lilah were at my door, ready to break it down if I didn’t let them in. That sums up my relationship with the Donovan sisters perfectly. Julia arrived fifteen minutes later, breathless, and declaring that “this better be worth” her break at the hospital. Spoiler alert, she told me later, it was.
* * *
I spendthe next few hours helping customers. Once they clear out, headed home with their newest treasures, I settle down with a happy sigh to eat my salad and finish my book. I spend some time tidying up the shop. I polish the wood counter, sweep the floors, and clean the fingerprints off the glass front door.
Book club starts at seven on the dot. The three Donovan sisters and our friends, Chelsea and Sally, fill the eclectic collection of couches and chairs in the shop’s sitting area.
Chelsea and Julia have launched into a heated debate about the motorcycle romance while I top up wine glasses and straighten the cheeseboard Olive brought over.
“It’s about vulnerability and overcoming their fear of rejection!” Chelsea all but yells. Judging by the way she’s holding her copy of the book, I hope Julia has better catching reflexes than I do.
“I’m just saying, it’s not realistic! He’s all macho and alpha on his motorcycle, but he’s such a pussy about speaking his mind!” Julia argues back.
I decide to keep my feelings to myself, at least for the moment. I love this hero. He’s all dirty talk in bed and fiercely possessive of the heroine… but Julia isn’t wrong. He is a bit of a pussy when it comes to sharing his emotions. The two of them keep arguing while Olive, Lilah, Sally, and I look on, eyes bouncing between them like it’s a tennis match. This happens every month, and I think it boils down to the fact that Julia and Chelsea are just inherent opposites. Chelsea is all sweet innocence. The blushing-bride type living happily ever after with her Prince Charming. Julia is loud, outspoken, spontaneous, and fearlessly living her best life.
God, do I envy her. Moving out here is the only spontaneous thing I’ve ever done, and it was the best decision of my life. I’ve got a fresh start. In my new home with my new job, I can be New Parker. Spontaneous Parker. Maybe even Wild Parker… well, probably not. I still have to manage the day-to-day bookstore stuff. It’s not like I can go out and party every night. But I can be spontaneous, and I can fight for my own happiness now. That’s something Old Parker never had the freedom to do.
The little brass bell over the shop door chimes, pulling me out of my thoughts. Ben, Lilah’s fiancé, enters through the narrow, antique door, angling his shoulders to fit properly. He’s almost frighteningly large in my opinion, but tiny Lilah adores him. Olive’s fiancé, Brooks, follows Ben inside. No shock there. They always pick their women up from book club, but they’ve abandoned their boys' night earlier than usual and, to my surprise, a third man steps out from behind them.
A tingle of electricity runs through my body, stopping my heart and my breath all in one go. Dark hair falls across part of his face, brushing his cheekbones and obscuring one of his eyes as he purses his lips in an irritated way. He doesn’t look at all happy to be here, but that doesn’t stop my body from reacting with aching awareness as he leans against the door frame.
Julia is yelling something about someone caving, but she might as well be yelling into a bucket of water for all I’m picking up on. I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s thick and muscular, but not really chiseled. Tattoos cover his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his tight black t-shirt and trailing all the way down his wrists to the backs of his hands. I can even see some ink peeking out of the collar of his shirt. I wonder what they look like and the thought of him lifting that shirt over his head makes my mouth go dry. There’s something sweet about his face and I’m not sure what it is until he meets my eyes and a smirk lifts one corner of his lips. Holy God, his lips are pretty. The pout was nice, but that indolent little smile is staggering.
I’m staring.
I know I am.
But if I thought I couldn’t look away before, it’s nothing compared to the way I feel when his vibrant green eyes hold mine. Look away? I can’t even breathe right. His eyes slowly sweep over my body, shameless, and when his eyebrow lifts appreciatively, I squeak. Like a ridiculous little mouse.
Thankfully, no one hears me because Julia is saying something about drool, scooting her chair back so it screeches on the floor.
“What?” I ask her, ripping my eyes away from the man by the door. My brain clicks back into action, and I realize immediately that he has to be one of the Donovan brothers. The dark hair and bright green eyes are a dead giveaway, and now that my eyes are on Julia and her pouty lips, the family resemblance is unmistakable.
Julia gives me a rueful smile, eyebrow arched, as she says, “Oh, nothing. I’m just going to leave the splash zone before things get icky.”
Chelsea spits wine down her front and I must look like a deer in headlights because Julia’s face softens a little, as if she regrets teasing me. I feel heat rise in my cheeks as my eyes dart from Julia back to her brother. It must be Lukas with those tattoos. I’ve heard enough about their brothers to know Asher is too straightedge to have tattoos. Lukas is the troublemaker. That’s what Olive says anyway. And he sure as hell looks like a lot of trouble to me.
His little smirk grows into a devastatingly lazy smile. He runs a hand over the shadow covering his jaw and all I can think are dirty thoughts. Best friend’s brother or not, I wonder how that scruff would feel scraping my inner thighs. What would it be like to grip his muscular arms as he drove into me?
“Lukas! Out!” Lilah yells as she heads towards him, all but pushing him out the door. He lets her shepherd him outside, but not before giving me a parting wink. Ben follows them, a hand pressed to his mouth and I’m almost positive he’s trying to cover a laugh. Looking around the bookshop I realize everyone else is staring at me, eyebrows raised, cocked, scrunched, and lifted.
I feel my cheeks burn as I shrink into myself. I wish they would stop. Why can’t they all look at something else? Talk about something, for Christ’s sake. I spot Lilah’s book on the coffee table, snatch it, and follow her out the door. Anything to escape.
“Lukas, you leave Parker alone.” Lilah’s voice hits me as I step outside, but Ben’s enormous frame is blocking her from my sight.
“Calm your ass, Ladybug,” a deep, smokey voice replies. “She’s not my type, anyway.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks to the stomach. I feel like a fool. Everyone I know in California just witnessed me have a mental break at the sight of this man. Then they watched him look me up and down and deem me unworthy. That wink was just a parting shot.
I hear him start his motorcycle and drive off. A second later, Lilah turns and sees me, apologizing for her brother.
I do my best to play it off. “It’s cool,” I say. “For what it’s worth, my daddy would hate him.”
That’s not true, of course. My father, the pastor, doesn’t hate anyone. He never would have let me date a man like that, though. Not that it matters though. A man like Lukas Donovan would never even consider someone like me.
I offer Lilah my most convincing smile, even though I feel cold inside, and hand her the book she forgot. Lilah and Ben leave, walking down the street, his arm wrapped around her protectively. I kind of just want to sit down and cry on the sidewalk but there’s a crowd of people right inside my bookshop so I slip on my best everything-is-perfect face, take a deep breath and head back inside.