Page 13 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

She looks up at me and I watch as a spark flashes in her green eyes. “So you saw Penny earlier?”

I chuckle and shake my head. I saw a hell of a lot more of Penny than ever before, that’s for sure. “You should have warned me she was upstairs.”

I give my grandmother a hard look but she bats me away, heading back toward the kitchen, and I follow behind.

“Does she stop by regularly?”

Vovo hums and points to another platter, which I grab, though I don’t head back to the dining room right away.

“Yes. She stops by every few weeks and we have tea and desserts.” She nods toward another dish, which is covered in one of her cloth napkins, white with hand-stitched roses in the corners. “Though she left without having any. You should take them to her after dinner.”

“I didn’t know she was there…” I rush to explain.

“Still, you apologize.” Then in a sterner tone she adds, “With pastries.”

***

An hour later I’m handed a tin of pastries and a thermos of what is apparently Penny’s favorite tea, along with instructions to hand-deliver them to her shop with an apology.

I’d feel worse about the situation had it not been for the way the woman took my breath away. My brain short-circuited the second I saw her eyes and then, well, her gorgeous tits.

A man is only so strong when it comes to someone like Penny. Fuck, those curves of hers might kill me.

I’m almost at our front door when I spot the Bonfire And Bliss Bookstore canvas tote on the entry table—Penny must have left it behind in her rush. Grabbing the bag, along with the treats, I head outside.

The crickets chirp out a symphony as I step onto the front porch and suck in a lungful of fresh air. Though the days are still sticky, the nights are starting to cool down.

An owl takes me by surprise as it hoots. I’m certainly not in the city anymore.

If it wasn’t for my full hands, I’d walk into town. It’s only a half mile and the path from our house to downtown runs right alongside the harbor. With the crescent moon low in the sky, there is plenty of light.

Instead, I open up my father’s car with borrowed keys, placing the tin in the passenger seat and the thermos in the cupholder to get on my way. It’s only then that I realize I should probably warn Penny before I come. She might not even be there.

I pull out my phone and see I have a message from her. Shit, it’s from hours ago. She was probably freaking out and then I went and didn’t respond because, well, I forgot about my phone. Hell, I forgot just about everything after finding her practically naked in my bedroom.

Penny: Just to keep you up to date with my latest humiliation, not only are the liberty ladies keenly aware of my singledom, Eli Davis, yes former NHL PLAYER Eli Davis, just offered to be my fake boyfriend.

My brows furrow. What the fuck does that even mean? And did she say yes? Does she want to date Eli Davis?

I drop my phone, needing answers to these questions straightaway. It only takes me a few minutes before I’m rounding on Maple Lane, which is lit up like a firefly from the old bronzed kerosene streetlamps and glittering storefronts. There’s a stream of women marching toward Penny’s store.

What’s going on there?

When I find parking, I grab everything and head up the street, intrigued by the growing din of chatter the closer I get to Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore.

Just before I reach the door, a loud mooing sound has me jumping back in surprise. I glance around—sure someone is pranking me—but don’t register a soul. Maybe it was an owl again?

Damn, I really am a city boy. This small-town life is going to take some getting used to.

Before heading inside, I take a moment to breathe and really take in Penny’s shop. From the outside, I can see she’s already decorated it for her favorite season: fall. Cranberry shelves with burnt-orange trim line the walls and a crushed-velvet navy armchair is pushed up against the window beside a golden table decorated with a small stack of books.

Edison bulbs hang from a central bronzed chandelier, emitting a golden glow.

As I look closer, I realize that the colors of her bookshelves mimic the ones found in a bonfire: deep cranberry that melts into a brighter, copper orange.

I smile, wondering if Penny has the same warm memories of nights by the bonfire as me. I make for the door and register the beautifully crafted wooden Closed sign on the glass, though I can see the place is lit up and packed with people. All women and one man.

Eli Davis.