Smitten Book Club (11 page)

“I want to have coffee with you, Abby.”

“No, I mean, really.”

“I really want to have coffee with you. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

She bent down to unplug the copy machine. “I have a lot of responsibilities at home. Friday night is my one night out, and my calendar is full with my book group.”

“Your one night out, and you let loose with the wild book club crowd, huh?”

She didn’t know how to take Wyatt. He seemed to have a dry sense of humor, but she never understood if he was teasing or serious. The other librarians always giggled when he was around, but without their reactions for cues, she felt fairly clueless.

“That was a joke, Abby.” He grinned at her playfully. “I think it’s great you go to a book group. Very cool.”

She smiled uncomfortably. “Right.” She paused and gathered her thoughts. “I take care of my mother, so I go home early after work and get her dinner. On Fridays I go to book club.”
Riveting
. She must sound absolutely riveting.

He stared at her blankly.

“I’m trying to explain why I don’t go out very often. I appreciate your offer of coffee, but I’ve usually got to get home.”

“What are you, twenty-five, Abby?”

“It’s impolite to ask a woman’s age.” She gazed down at her feet, noting that they, too, were dressed like an eighty-year-old woman’s. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Are you a morning person? What about in the morning, before work? People have coffee in the morning, so it would be perfectly reasonable that we meet then.” He paused. “To discuss
Persuasion
. And something else. Something I’ve been putting off for far too long.”

Whatever Wyatt was up to, she felt drawn to him as if someone had attached a winch to her waistline and was cranking it slowly, pulling her out of her imprisoned, muddy bog toward his carefree, sunny escape. “
Persuasion
seems appropriate, since you’re using that power to entice me.” She dropped her forehead in her hands as she realized that she’d said such a ridiculous thing aloud.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to go. I’m late for book club.”

As she finished her rounds, she faced Wyatt, who was still at her side. Her gaze rose up to meet his eyes, and she allowed herself to drink in their light. She reminded herself that she was content, while Wyatt needed adventure to feel alive. He needed a woman like him. A woman like Anne Elliot, who would sail the open seas to be with Captain Wentworth. Abby, on the other hand, was out of sorts if she had to grocery shop on a different night from her usual one. Besides, her mother
would take to the idea of her dating the way a cat takes to being tossed into a swimming pool.

Wyatt lifted her hand and held it in his for a moment. “We’re friends, right?” He gave her his trademark sideways grin that should be registered as a lethal weapon. “Friends spend time getting to know one another. It’s just coffee, Abby.”

She shrugged. “I guess.” Coffee seemed innocent enough. He wanted to talk about a book. She was a librarian. It made perfect sense. She just hoped she could keep her heart from getting involved—because men like Wyatt Tanner didn’t stay with their feet on the ground for long, and they didn’t seem to realize the effect they had on others. “I should get going,” she said and turned away from his outstretched hand to gather her things.

Wyatt felt the loss of Abby’s hand immediately as his grasp emptied. Her small hand, with its slender fingers . . . her nails always trimmed short and painted with a natural pink color . . . it felt right inside his, like it belonged there. If only he could find a way to tell her so.

“Maybe Monday morning, before work. Mountain Perks. Is seven too early for you?”

“Seven is fine,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Be ready to discuss Austen.”

She smiled briefly, and he’d have given blood to know what she was thinking. Rather than risk giving her another
chance to back out, he made a hasty exit with a smile he felt to his feet.
Abby Gray is the perfect woman
. With caramel-colored hair, which she always wore up in a studious bun, and deep, soulful brown eyes that hypnotized him. He’d spent the better part of a year trying to get to know her better. Trying to do the thing that he’d planned so long ago.

Casey, one of the other librarians, invariably placed herself between Abby and him, so he’d decided to return his books when he knew only Abby would be on duty and he’d have her to himself. She exuded a sense of warmth that made him want her soft nature—she was like a roaring fire in the fireplace. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew. There was something different about Abby Gray that made him feel as if he’d known her their entire lives. She had a petite, athletic frame, and he wondered what she did to stay in shape. She obviously hid her adventurous side underneath an array of cardigans, which only made him want to uncover that side of her more.

He walked down the street and shook his head. As he stared over his shoulder, he watched her emerge from the library and heard her jangle the keys.

Be ready to discuss Austen
. Seriously? Did he really just tell a librarian to be ready to discuss Jane Austen? As if he were some kind of literary hero? He could barely string two words together and sound coherent. At least when he was near Abby. He didn’t know what touched him so about her, but when he was beside her, he smiled from within.

Hopefully, Abby didn’t think he was a blooming idiot. He hadn’t meant to be so pushy, but some part of him wanted to get her out of the house more often and learn what went
on behind those gorgeous, mysterious eyes. He’d first seen her in church, but she was always flanked by her mother and seemed so off-limits there. Running into her at the library seemed like fate.

She hiked her book bag over her shoulder, and he watched her hips sway gently as she walked in the other direction. She turned and smiled at him with a wave.

He loved the way she laughed, the way she hung back when the other ladies tried to speak to him. All he’d wanted to do was get to her and pull her out of her quiet reverie, but then someone would ask about his outdoor hobbies and he’d see her visibly flinch at the idea of helicopter skiing in Canada or snowboarding atop Sugarcreek Mountain.

“Someone looks smitten.” Ellie Draper stood outside her fudge shop, Sweet Surrender.

Wyatt sniffed the sugary scent of her warm concoctions. “You’re just trying to sell me some dark chocolate.”

“Maybe.” She winked. “Abby likes the peanut butter fudge.”

“Does she now?”

Ellie shrugged her rounded shoulders. “You know where to find me.” With a jingling of bells she disappeared into her sweet shop.

Abby was out of sight now. Most likely she found his love of extreme sports folly. Nothing more than a death wish. He wanted her to know the truth, that computer consulting was only a means to an end. He wanted to create programs that showed athletes how to move their bodies for optimal performance. He didn’t want to be known just as the code monkey of Smitten.

Today he had hope. On Monday morning Abby would meet him for coffee and he would get to ask about her, away from the prying eyes of library patrons and nosy librarians. Now he was the one who was half agony, half hope.

Always maintain a modest yet appealing appearance as is becoming of a woman of God. Your appearance is a calling card.

P
EARL
C
HAMBERS
,
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

CHAPTER TWO

A
bby hurried down the brick sidewalk of Main Street, past the fire station and town storefronts, until she came to the bookstore at the corner of Lookaway Lane and Main Street. It was a beautiful evening with the sun low in the sky and the streets bustling with tourists. There were horse-drawn carriages in the street carrying diners to the romantic restaurants, and the twinkling lights that lined the downtown trees sparkled.

Abby thought it must be easier for single women to find contentment when they weren’t forced to watch fawning couples gazing into one another’s eyes on a daily basis. Smitten’s being the romance capital did have its downside. Nothing reminded a person of her loneliness like people being paired off as if they were getting on Noah’s ark.

As she felt the dwindling sunlight on her face and saw the purple majesty of the mountains in the distance, she hesitated
to go inside the bookstore. Smitten, Vermont, embodied every one of God’s beautiful creations: deep, glass-like lakes, magnificent mountains, and spring colors. Yet she spent most of her hours inside. Wyatt’s mention of Captain Wentworth had given her a nudge toward a more adventurous life. Stepping outside more often might be a simple commitment that she could keep. She definitely needed to get out more.

She pushed through the bookstore’s door, and the jangle of bells immediately put her at ease. The group had read
Gone with the Wind,
and to celebrate they were eating barbecue like at Twelve Oaks. Someone picked up fried chicken from Jake’s restaurant, and everyone had brought a side dish. Except for her.

She slapped her forehead lightly. “I forgot the potato salad I made this morning,” she said.

Lia came to hug her. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ve got plenty of food. You’d think we were feeding an entire Confederate regiment, from the looks of it. How’s your mother?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Cathy, our neighbor, is having dinner with her tonight, so I won’t have to be home early.”

“It sounds like they may have a lot of potato salad.”

Abby laughed. The round table in front of the bookshelves, which normally housed the best sellers, was filled with delicacies from an earlier, more genteel time.

“Have some sweet tea,” Lia offered with her best imitation of a Southern accent. “It’s food for what ails the soul, I do declare.”

It wasn’t the first time Abby had forgotten. She worried her friends might get tired of filling in the gaps for her, but
as Molly approached, she figured they had bigger fish to fry. Curtis’s death had left Molly to run Smitten Expeditions alone, and as a true girlie girl, it was almost as if Cinderella had been left to guard the castle in her blue gown and tiara.

Molly wasn’t big on reading. She preferred movies to books and tortured herself weekly with all the latest romantic comedies. Every week Abby would check out the latest movies from the library for Molly to watch, and sneak in a romantic classic.

She handed over the bag of DVDs from the library.

“Anything good?” Molly asked as she clutched the bag.

“Not this week. All the movies that came in were more in the horror genre, so I brought you a classic:
Pillow Talk
with Rock Hudson and Doris Day.”

Molly frowned.

“You’ll like it. Besides, there’s going to come a day when you’ve seen everything out there and you’ll have to go backward whether you like it or not. They’re not making as many romantic comedies as they used to.”

It didn’t seem to bother Molly that they lived in the romance capital—she still sought the escapism of chick flicks.

“
Safe Haven
is out next week. You should like that one. Exceptionally sappy and heart-tugging.”

“Bravo!” Molly shouted. “I’ve been waiting for that one. Maybe I should have a party. What do you think?”

The other women came around them and laughed. Heather crossed her arms. “Abby, do you have to encourage her by bringing her those movies? This is a book club. How are we going to get her to finish the books if you keep offering her addiction of choice?”

“It’s harmless,” Abby said. “If I’d had her marriage, I’d want to be reminded of romance too.” She looked directly at Molly. “I just fail to see how you need the reminder when it’s everywhere in this town.”

Molly smiled. “Don’t get me wrong. I know you guys love me, but it feels like a hundred years since I felt romantic love. I guess the movies remind me what that feels like.”

Abby sighed. She couldn’t argue with that. The room got quiet, and Abby realized she’d put her foot in her mouth again by bringing up Molly’s husband. “I’m sorry, Molly. I suppose that’s why they don’t let me out often.”

Molly smiled and patted her shoulder. “I knew what you meant. And I like it when people remember Curtis. It’s better than when they try to avoid saying his name.” Molly walked toward the entrance of the bookstore and began welcoming the rest of the club.

Abby stood alone amidst the circle of chairs set up in front of the bookshelves. Suddenly she felt anxious to get started on the book discussion—a time where she wouldn’t say the wrong thing and remind people why she felt more comfortable at work than out in public.

Heather, who looked like a model and seemed to have it all together, pulled her aside into a small corner of the store. Before she could say anything, Abby spoke up. “I’m sorry about what I said to Molly about the movies. You don’t think I hurt her, do you?”