Chapter Eighteen
Olivia leaned herchin on one hand and sighed as she sat behind Mr. Buxley’s desk. She glanced around at the shop’s bookshelves, dust-free and organized by topic. Thanks to her friends’ help, they had spent the last four days reorganizing the shop. This morning, Olivia had dusted and polished every wood surface. She flipped open her watch pin, one o’clock in the afternoon, and not a single customer had entered the shop all day. How exactly did Mr. Buxley stay in business?
She had a fair idea that she and her book club were Mr. Buxley’s best customers, but surely there were other patrons of the shop? Where were the newspaper readers? Or the customers in need of a fresh supply of writing paper? The display of paper, quills, and charcoal pencils was quite nice, even if it was tucked away in the back corner. Olivia straightened her shoulders. Well, she would just have to spread the word that the bookshop had new management. Perhaps she could sponsor some sort of event here to let people see how pleasant it could be to shop.
The front door opened, and Olivia looked over eagerly.A customer!But it was just Max, his arms so full of greenery she could only see the red tip of his nose and his gray wool hat. He used his foot to slam the door shut behind him, and as he lowered his arms his toothy smile emerged from behind the greenery.
Olivia stood. “What have you got there?”
“Decoration for the shop. I thought we could liven up the window.” He shrugged his wide shoulders.
Olivia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I specifically said I do not want to partake in Christmas frivolities this year.”
Max glance around the empty shop. “And how many shoppers have you had today?”
Olivia gritted her teeth. “None.”
“Perhaps a decorated window would attract some customers. It would at least tell people the shop was open for business. Had Mr. Buxley ever decorated the window before?”
“No, I don’t think he ever has.”
“Perhaps it will make people curious.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and adjusted the greenery in his arms.
“Come and put that all down here on the desk. What did you do, buy out the entire booth?”
Max set down his armload on the desk with a relieved sigh. “Actually, I did. The rest is being delivered to Belhaven this afternoon.” He whipped off his hat, and his cheeks flushed matching his red nose.
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. Hadn’t he listened to anything she’d said about not wanting to celebrate Christmas? Of all the high-handed… She slowly inhaled a deep breath. She needed to remember Belhaven was no longer her house. It belonged to Max, and he could do whatever he wanted with it, decorate it for Christmas, or burn it down to the ground if he so chose.
But the bookshop was hers, or least it may be hers if Mr. Buxley agreed to sell it to her. As much as she wished to kick Max and his Christmas cheer out of the shop, she had a sinking feeling he was right. Decorating the window might attract attention of a few paying customers. “Do as you please then. I have things to take care of.”
She turned on her heel and strode to the back. Coming to a stop in front of the back wall, she stared at the shelves. She had no earthly idea what things she could take care of, but Max didn’t have to know that. Olivia randomly pulled a book from the travel section.A Gentleman’s Guide to Traveling in Austria.Turning sideways, she opened it and flipped through the pages while watching Max from the corner of her eye. First, he organized the pile of greenery, separating what she could see was a long garland, a wreath, and a bough dotted with red holly berries. Then he removed his greatcoat and unwound the scarf from his neck, setting them both on a nearby chair. Next, he stood in front of the window, its many panes of glass showering him with sunshine. His arms crossed and his jacket pulled tight across his broad shoulders. Olivia bit her bottom lip and marveled had how changed he was from the lanky boy of his youth. Wide muscled shoulders covered by a fitted navy jacket tapered to a lean waist, then to a firm backside and muscled thighs that filled out his gray wool trousers nicely.
What was she doing?She shouldn’t be thinking about his thighs or his backside. She also shouldn’t be wondering how silky his hair would be if she ran her fingers through it. She turned back to stare at the bookshelf.Well, why not?She argued with herself. She was not married, and she was not a blasted nun. She could admire a man’s physique if she wanted to. She was twenty-six years old and still had not sampled passion with a man. Why not Max?You know why not. Too many old feelings tangled up with him.She sighed.
“Do you think Mr. Buxley has some tools around here?” Max’s voice startled her. “I’ll need some tacks.”
She whirled around. Max stood in the opening between the two rooms. “Did you check in the closet behind the desk?”
Max shook his head. “Thanks.”
He strode over and opening the closet door, he disappeared inside. “Could you hand me a lamp, please?” His muffled voice called out from the closet’s dim interior.
Olivia grabbed a lamp, walked over, and held it up to illuminate the walk-in closet.
“Thanks,” Max said. He began to rummage through the shelves. As he bent over to look in the back, she received a very nice view. Her face heated, and she licked her lips. He certainly had one fine backside.
Max stood up, and when he swiveled around, he held a hammer and a small box of tacks. His smile was triumphant. “Found some!”
Olivia backed away from the doorway to let him exit the closet. His proximity sent a sizzle through her. He smelled like the outdoors, like pine trees and fresh air. She took another large step back. Max came out into the shop and headed straight for the window, where he took one end of the garland in one hand and the hammer in the other. But when he tried to juggle holding a tack in place, he dropped the end of the garland. He bent over to pick it up, and Olivia realized she would never get her pulse back to normal if he kept that up.
She moved next to him. “Here, let me help you hold that.”
“Thanks.” Max handed her the garland.
“Here?” she held it up at one corner of the window.
“Yes, perfect.” Max stepped behind her, his body only inches from her and his arm bracketing her head as he stretched up to hammer at a long tack to secure the end of the decoration. Goose bumps rose on her arms as his warm breath tickled her ear. In the next instant, he pulled back and reached for another section from the middle and draped it a third of the way across. “Hold, please.”