Tension only built between me and Fionn over the next few days. He stopped bringing me coffee; I stopped asking him to help me prep the shop. It wasn't like I needed him to help me, but it was nice when I didn't have to do it alone.
When I opened the door to go downstairs on the third morning, a note fluttered out from where it had been wedged in. I stopped to pick it up, recognizing Fionn's messy handwriting.
Miss Taylor,
Taking Catriona to the airport. You can handle the shop while I'm out. Back later but have things to do.
Mr. MacLeod
I scoffed. This was his way of being professional? Calling us by our last names? It was childish! I crumpled up the note and threw it with great force toward the center of the room. Of course, being a lightweight piece of paper it didn't land that far away, tumbling to a stop on the floor a few feet away.
Not very satisfying.
With a huff, I pulled the door closed and stomped down the stairs to get the shop up and running for the day.
If he wanted me to run the shop alone, I was going to run it in the most obnoxious way possible. We had a list of authors who wanted to be featured for signings at the shop, so after a quick breakfast—I had stopped off at the store yesterday to buy some muffins—I started calling from the list and booking the shop for the foreseeable future.
Just as I was finishing up the last call, my phone pinged with a text. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw it was from Catriona, but my heart sank at the words.
Talk to him, Em. He's miserable.
I locked my phone without even responding. I didn't need this. The night we spent stargazing was the most fun I'd had in a long time. Kyle never once did anything like that. To be honest, Kyle always completely disregarded the fact that stargazing was a big part of my past as I had told Fionn.
I groaned. Why had I told Fionn? I told him about Kyle. I told him about my dad. There must've been a reason. He made me want to trust him, but he also made me want to scream.
My phone pinged again: call if you need anything and I can be back in a matter of hours.
I smiled. Cat was a good friend. I logged into the shop's computer and began inputting new information into the calendar. After a few minutes, our schedule for the next month was booked solid.
That should teach him, I thought to myself before the sheer panic set in. This was going to come back to bite me, I just knew it.
There was a slow and steady flow of customers through the shop, which gave me plenty of time to catch up on my freelancing. Every time the bell above the door chimed, I glanced up hoping it would be Fionn. He finally arrived back from the airport after I'd closed for lunch.
"We don't close midday." The front door slammed shut and I looked up to see Fionn with his arms crossed over my chest.
"I had no choice." I closed my laptop and hopped off the stool behind the desk. "You left me to run the shop by myself."
"I had to take—"
"No, you decided to take Cat to the airport when you knew she had other transportation."
Fionn scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Lachlan is not 'other transportation'. He's a family friend. Not meant to be used to cart around others."
"He's a chauffeur, Fionn! Taking people places is kinda in the job description." My voice raised several octaves.
We stood face to face. Anger pulsated off of his body and he shoved his phone in my face.
"And you thought it wise to book us solid for the whole month?"
The phone screen showing his calendar lit up like a Christmas tree, showing all of the events I had spent the morning organizing.
I bit my lip. "This is a business, Fionn. I was trying to work."
Fionn shook his head. "I'm going to my office. Don't disturb me." Without another word, he stormed off, leaving me alone again.
Typical. I shook my head. Screw that, I didn't need him. And if he was going to be an asshole—
"Pardon me, I'm looking for Emilie Taylor?" a woman who just entered the shop asked. I recognized her accent as English, not Scottish.
I looked up from the desk and flashed her a smile. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Emilie Taylor. How can I help you?"
She beamed at me and unraveled the thick scarf that hung around her neck. "I'm Finley Maxwell."
My eyes widened. Finley Maxwell. THE Finley Maxwell.
The famous Scottish romance author wrote her first book at seventeen about the hardships of love. When I bought her first book years ago, I had no idea how much I would rely on her words to get me through my toughest moments.
"Oh my God! I love your books. It's so great to meet you, Ms. Maxwell," I said, thrusting my hand out toward her.
She laughed. "The pleasure is mine. And please, call me Finley."
"Finley. Yeah, I can do that." My stomach flip-flopped. I aspired to have a love like the ones she wrote about. "We are so glad to have you here at MacLeod's Book Emporium. How may I help?"
"A friend of mine had her book signing here recently and has not stopped raving about the wonderful event you and your partner put on," she said.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Oh, you must mean Fionn. He's not...well, we're not partners exactly. His father owns the bookstore. But we're not otherwise...involved."
I mentally kicked myself. This was way more than she needed to know.
The woman laughed heartily. "Forgive me, dear. I only meant as work partners. But my friend did say your chemistry seemed...undeniable."
"Undeniable." The word rolled over my tongue.
Hmm. Maybe we had chemistry before, but now? Forget it.
Remembering the author was still there, I continued. "Yes, we can certainly get you scheduled. We, um, we are fairly booked for the next month but I'll see what I can do."
My fingers flew over the keyboard, clacking away as I roamed through our calendar for an open spot.
Damn my attempt to thwart Fionn!
This certainly came back to bite me in the ass sooner than expected.
I clicked on an empty spot. Success!
"We have an opening in two days," I announced. "How quickly could you be ready?"
Finley nodded. "That can be done. I can have the list of what I need for the event to you by this afternoon." She whipped out a checkbook and scribbled out on it before handing it to me. "I hope I will get the chance to see that undeniable chemistry in action at the signing."
I doubt it. I faked a grin. "Absolutely. Fionn loves helping out at these events."
"Good." She walked toward the door but paused before exiting. "I've always said communication is the key to a happy heart." She winked at me, leaving me with my mouth hanging open as I watched her turn down the street.
***
"Tell me again why you woke me this early?" Fionn grumbled. He reluctantly let me into his flat after I stood outside for five minutes pounding on the door.
"We have a signing today," I reminded him, annoyance creeping into my voice. "You run a damn bookstore, you should know this by now."
Fionn ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "And you've been doing so well on your own."
I narrowed my eyes. "Only because you abandoned me to do your own thing! Need I remind you I'm still a guest, Fionn? Staying in the apartment above your bookstore?" I stepped toward him until we were only inches apart.
Gah, he was infuriating!
His gaze traveled down to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes. "You have a responsibility to the store and I suggest you remember that. No one stays here for free, you know."
He turned on his heel and walked back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.
I scoffed, storming after him and throwing the door open. "What gives you—"
"Oy, Emilie! I'm changing!" He stood in front of me in just his boxers, clutching a button-down to his chest. Two lines of ink snaking to a point peeked out from just below his collarbone.
I slapped a hand over my eyes. "Sorry! Sorry. Carry on."
Had that been a tattoo on his chest? And why did I care?
A few seconds later, he cleared his throat—a sign for me to uncover my eyes. When I did, there was a distinctive grin plastered across his face and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
"I'm sorry, love. I don't normally let the women I've kissed—er, sorry, pretended that I haven't kissed—see me naked until at least the nonexistent second date." His words were laced with sarcasm.
I rolled my eyes. "You weren't naked."
Fionn shook his head. "I could've been." He paused. "When is the reading?"
"Not until a little later." I leaned against the doorframe, wrapping my arms around my body.
"So, what? Were you expecting breakfast?"
I sighed. "Forget it, Fionn. You know what? I don't even care if you show up." I turned on my heel and stormed out of his apartment.
"Dammit!" I cursed. My pockets were empty, which meant I'd left my phone inside.
The door creaked open and then: "Em." The softness of his voice melted away my anger like butter.
"What did I say about my nickname?" I lifted an eyebrow at him. Honestly, I didn't mind it anymore. But I didn't want him to know that.
"Your phone." His fingers closed over mine as he dropped the phone into my hands.
And there it was. An undeniable something passed between us, but neither of us wanted to come out of our stubborn shells to acknowledge it.
That would mean we felt something.
It would mean I let myself feel something, and I couldn't do that.
"I'll see you in a bit." Without another word, he closed the door again.
I swallowed away the lump in my throat as I walked down the street. I had been hoping that maybe we'd be ready to get past our stalemate, but our time had not yet come.
Soon, I hoped. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the moment of our kiss play back in my mind.
Oh, how I wanted the feel of his lips on mine again.
Oh, how I wondered what it would be like for his hands to explore—to really explore—my body.
As I approached the bookstore, I turned on my heel and hightailed it in the other direction. I couldn't be in the bookstore right now knowing that Fionn would probably get there soon after me. I'd rather keep myself busy until the book signing.
Luckily, I had a long to-do list to prepare for the afternoon.
And so the ignorance of my racing heart began.