Free The Bookshop on the Corner (A Gingerbread Cafe story) by Rebecca Raisin Page A

mean those mammoth biceps of his. They were like footballs, they were so big. OK, maybe not that big, but they were rounded and much more sticky-outy when not covered up.
    He was out of sight, having crossed the street and moved past the Gingerbread Café. I went back to my book, only managing a few words as the need to glance out of the window distracted me. Where was he? By now he should have turned and be headed past the bookshop again.
    I leaned closer to the window, and looked to the right. Footsteps pounded against pavement, so I shrank back covering my face with the book.
    After a beat, I peeked above the book, gazing at his retreating frame. Who knew calves could be so appealing? Spellbound, I watched him until he was out of sight.
    A fine sheen of sweat had broken on my upper lip. Exercising was hard. I was waiting for him to appear across the street, when he stood in front of the window, surprising me. I let out a yowl of fright. “You scared me!”
    He stood with his hands on his hips. “I saw you watching me.”
    I scoffed, and held up the book in front of my face. “I was reading, I had no idea you were there.”
    He cocked his head, and grinned. “I could see your reflection in the windows across the road. Your face was pressed firmly up against the glass as I ran past. Were you checking out my butt?”
    “Oh please. As if! Hardly. I am not that kind of person,” I lied.
    He wiped his brow, and said, “That sounded very defensive, and usually defensive means guilty.”
    “Oh that was
you
running past just before? I see! OK, that makes sense, I actually thought you were some kind of burglar. A robber even. A crook. A sheis—”
    He cut me off. “Liar.”
    I feigned disbelief. “We are extremely community minded in Ashford, and when we happen across someone running at six in the morning we immediately look for either an army of angry spiders chasing the person, or if that person is carrying a duffel bag with Aunt Pam’s best silver. It’s just a neighborhood watch thing.”
    “Neighborhood watch? Is that what you call it?”
    I nodded slowly, in a way I hoped made me seem very believable. Trustworthy. “Yes.”
    He laughed. I couldn’t help notice his particular man-sweat did smell a little like the books described — I’d thought that was a myth. An earthy, lemony scent, punctuated by the washing-powder fragrance that still hung on his clothes. Oh, boy.
    “Only six hours to go,” he said, fingering the buds of his earphones.
    “What, until you’re finished running? Wow, you New Yorkers really commit when you commit.”
    He flashed a smile. White teeth, God love ’em. “Funny. Six hours, until I whisk you away, and let you decide what kind of story it is, right?”
    Oh, my God. “What?” I sputtered.
    He grinned. “Horror, romance…erotica.”
    My mind reeled. How did he know that?
    “CeeCee’s Facebook,” he said.
    She had embraced technology and run with it. I cleared my throat. “I’m sure the post you’re referring to is
actually
about books.”
    “I can read between the lines. I’m a reporter, remember.”
    Note to self: tell CeeCee to make her Facebook posts a lot more ambiguous. “Sometimes you may just read too much into things, you think? You know, looking for a story when there isn’t one there?” I crossed my arms across my chest and pursed my lips for good measure.
    “You look adorable when you do that pose.”
    A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth, but I controlled it as much as I could without making my nostrils flare. “Adorable?”
    “Adorable.”
    He glanced at his watch. “Five hours and fifty-five minutes.”
    ***
    The morning was hectic, which didn’t leave much time to think about the impending picnic with Ridge — a good thing. The less time I had to worry about the fact he wasn’t the right man for me, the better.
    I was packing a huge order when Missy strutted in. “Need help?” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
    “There will be