Romance By the Book by Sarah Ready

Jessie

I’m aboutto take the first sip of my large triple shot iced mocha with extra whip cream and a cherry on top when I see him.

Gavin.

It’s quarter to ten and I’m outside the SweetStop Bakery on Main Street. Romeo, in the soft morning light, with the sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar, is one of the most wonderful places in the world. But it’s just taken on a sharper, more vibrant appeal.

My heart skips a beat. Not from caffeine—I haven’t had any yet—but from the sight of Gavin in Romeo. It’s been six years. He’s thinner than Will, tanner, and he has a more restless energy, like he’s waiting to spring into action. Which is perfect. I need him to spring into action when I trip and fall into his arms. I look down at my outfit, a vintage yellow and navy blue cotton pleated dress. It’s about be sacrificed on the altar of love.

Gavin stands on the opposite side of Main Street, just outside the outfitters store. He’s in hiking clothes and looks like a cover model for an outdoor magazine. He’s reading something on this phone and pacing back and forth, oblivious to the morning activity of the town. Mrs. Charles pushes a cart of books out onto the sidewalk in front of Bookends, her used book store. Mr. Kwan stands on a ladder cleaning the hardware store’s windows. Laney Forsyth has six dogs on leashes. She’s beginning her daily round of dog-walking. She waves and I wave back.

Gavin still hasn’t looked up from his phone, which is good. All I have to do is step in his path and let him run into me, spill coffee all over us, and let sweet love do the rest.

Gavin reaches the end of the storefront and turns around. He’s focused on his phone, he taps something into it with his thumbs. He’s only twenty feet away.

This is it.

Our meet-cute.

The moment our love story begins.

Well, I mean, for me it began when I was eight. But the story of us begins now.

My chest squeezes and I freeze—nerves. He so good-looking, so charming, so perfect. No. I can do this. As soon as we have our romantic-comedy-style clumsy girl meeting, Gavin will feel the soul mate vibes and fate will take care of the rest.

“You can do this, Jessie,” I whisper.

Gavin’s only ten feet away. His head is down and he’s pacing toward me. I take a bolstering breath, hold my iced triple espresso, double whip mocha in front of me and stride forward.

Impact in three steps.

Two.

The glass door to the outfitter store flies open. I’m right in its path. I hold out my free hand to stop it, but it slams into me.

“Eeek!”

The door knocks me back and I spill the mocha down the front of my dress. The sticky ice-cold chocolate and whipped cream drink drenches the cotton. I gasp. The door hitting me hurt, and the coffee is cold. The door swings back and the man responsible steps onto the sidewalk. He looks at me with a stunned expression on his face.

“Jessie. Are you alright?”

My mouth falls open. “You…you…”

A glob of whipped cream slides down the front of my dress. Will watches its descent down my chest. I wipe it away and fling it from my hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks again. “Sorry. I didn’t see you…” He trails off.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

I move past Will. Gavin is walking the other way again. He’s talking on his phone now. I realize with surprise that he didn’t even see me. Will opened the shop door in that one split second of opportunity and sabotaged our meet-cute.

“Can I get you napkins? Dry cleaning? Something to clean off with?” He starts digging in his pocket like he’ll find a napkin in there. He’s in outdoorsy clothes too. I haven’t seen him in anything besides a suit in years. It’s weird. And distracting. I scowl.

“Stop trying to be nice. It’s confusing.”

“What? I’m nice,” says Will.

I widen my eyes in disbelief. He grins, flashing his teeth, and I remember all the articles that have called him ruthless.

“Fine. I’m not nice. I’m only offering to help so you don’t bring a personal injury lawsuit against me or slander me in the news.”

I tilt my head and my wet dress make a sucking noise. I grimace.

Will looks at my chest again and his eyelids lower, making him look sleepy and aroused at the same time.

In my fantasies, sometimes Will plays a role, always the villain. Sometimes the fantasies get away from me and Will, the villain, captures me, ties me up, and does things…that I like. Those fantasies never make any sense. They confuse me.

Like now.

“Umm,” I clear my throat and try not to notice my nipples tightening. It’s the ice-cold mocha. Not Will’s horny eyes. Clearly.

Gavin’s a block away, talking on the phone, pacing near Mr. Kwan’s ladder.

I have a moment of inspiration.

“Bye, Will.”

I wave him off and hurry to the ladder. If I can climb up a few rungs and wait until Gavin passes, I can fall into his arms. It doesn’t matter that I’m covered in coffee and whipped cream. I have a week to make love happen with Gavin, and I’m determined to give fate a helping hand. Plus, I don’t know when I’ll see him next without blatantly knocking on his front door.

It’s now or never.

I grab the metal sides and step up onto the first rung. Gavin is ten feet away and heading toward me. I calculate that four rungs high should do it. I scramble up the ladder. When Gavin is only five feet away I let out a cute little planned squeak and wave my arms.

“Eek! Help!”

I lean back and peer at him from over my shoulder.

He doesn’t notice. He doesn’t even look at me. He’s so involved in his phone conversation that he walks right by. Unbelievable.

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy’s attention?

I twist around and take a step down. My stiletto catches on the rung. I grab at the ladder’s edges, but I’m unbalanced. I shriek, it’s not cute and it’s not planned. I grab at the sides of the ladder, but my heel twists and I fall.

I hit—hard.

But it’s not the pavement.

I hit a man’s chest.

He wraps his arms around my back and my legs and pulls me against him. My stomach flips and I reflexively grab his shoulders. I take a breath. He’s got me. Thank goodness.

Gavin saw me after all.

I look up into blue eyes.

“Thank you—” I start.

“What are you playing at?” he growls.

“Oh…you again…” I feel bad that I’m disappointed that Will caught me. Because he did save me. “Can you…do you mind putting me down?”

His eyes narrow and he gently sets me down. My legs wobble and I realize that the fall freaked me out more than I thought it would.

I look around and try to find Gavin. He’s back in front of the outfitters store.

“You’re up to something,” says Will. He catches me looking at Gavin and his jaw clenches. Then his eyes narrow on my still wet, stained dress. Uh oh.

I flush.

“You were trying to spill your coffee.”

My breath catches. “I was not!”

“And you were trying to fall.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he asks.

I feel my cheeks heat and they’re definitely red because Will nods like I just failed his lie detector test.

“I thought we agreed. You’re not Gavin’s type.”

I flush even more. The stickiness of the spilled drink on my skin is growing itchy and uncomfortable and I want to get out of this dress. My ankle has a pinchy throbby pain. I turn and limp away, trying to maintain a bit of dignity.

Not his type.

Bull crap.

Love doesn’t have “types.”

Gavin’s finally off the phone. He leans back against the glass window of the shop and stares up at the clear blue sky. His shoulders slump and he looks tired and alone.

I know exactly how he feels.

I’ve felt alone since my mom died and my dad stopped speaking.

I keep myself busy from the minute I wake up to the second I fall into bed, so I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m lonely.

Lonely and alone.

Gavin drops his head and I catch him quickly swipe at his face. Crying?

I want to reach out to him. Offer him my friendship.

More.

My back straightens and my determination comes back.

This is the moment.

I walk forward, my eyes on Gavin.

“Jessie.” It’s Will. He sounds sorry, like he’s going to apologize. I ignore him.

“Jessie. Stop.” He says stop like a command, not a request. “Stop.”

I swing back around. “No. You stop.”

I keep walking backwards, away from him. “Quit interfering—” I cut off when I hit a metal object.

Will reaches for me.

I grab at the object. It’s books, stacks of books. Will grabs for me, catches my hand, but the book cart flips under me. I tumble over it and pull Will down with me. We crash to the sidewalk. I land on a pile of paperbacks. Will lands on top of me. The jarring thud sends a jolt through me and the shock of it stops all thought.

“Ow. Ouch.”

Will groans. “That hurt.”

“You’re on top of me.” I push at him, but he doesn’t move. “Off.”

He repositions himself so that his legs capture mine and his arms cage me in. He looks down at me and a calculating light enters his eyes.

“I’ll get up when you promise to stop chasing Gavin.”

I glare at him. “No.”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “I’m not going to let you ruin his chance at happiness.”

The nerve.

“What if I’m that chance?”

“Not possible,” he says.

I glare at him and then push up against him, trying to dislodge his bulk. His blue eyes go dark like the deep, violent blue of the Romeo River before a storm. The depth in them scares me, like I might drown in the stormy waters, never get air and never come up again if I dive beneath the surface. He lets out a short huff of air and the black of his pupils dilates. Suddenly, I have the urge to reach up and brush the lines at the corners of his eyes, touch his long feathery eyelashes and see if they feel as soft as they look.

He makes a low sound in his throat. I look at his mouth and focus on his plump lower lip, soft and wicked…so at odds with Will’s personality.

Will.

William.

I gasp and wrench myself out of my lust-filled stupor for the wrong man.

“Get off.” I shove at him again. He blinks and shakes his head, like he’s trying to reenter the present.

Yeah, welcome back from Weirdville. That alternate dimension where Will and I lust after each other.

Ugh.

Why?

I have a week with Gavin in town, I don’t need Will confusing things.

“Look, Jessie.” He shifts, but doesn’t let me up.

I squirm under him and peer toward the outfitters store. Gavin isn’t even there anymore. Unbelievable.

“No. You look.” I shove my hand into his chest. I ignore the fact that it’s a surprisingly well-muscled chest. “Gavin and I are meant to be. Miss Erma predicted it.”

His body stiffens and he shakes his head, once, hard in denial. Of course he’d disagree.

“She’s. Never. Wrong,” I say.

His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. “I. Don’t. Care.”

I push up on my elbows and lean into him. My chest presses against his and I bring my lips close to his ear, so he can hear every word.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to show Gavin we’re meant to be.”

I let the words hang between us. My lips are so close to him I could nibble his ear without moving an inch. I feel it the moment his heart picks up speed—it thumps against my chest.

He turns his head and his jaw brushes against my mouth. I pull back and he smiles. I stay on my elbows. He leans forward until our lips nearly touch. His hips press into mine and this moment is so similar to one of my nighttime fantasies that certain parts of me clench in anticipation.

“Promise?” he asks. I feel the heat of his breath against my lips.

I want so badly to span those few millimeters and press my lips to his. And that’s what makes me realize—he’s taunting me. Teasing me. Laughing at me. That’s what Will does. What he’s always done.

I remember when I was twelve, when he and Gavin finally came back to Romeo after four years gone. I saw Will outside this very bookstore. I thought maybe he’d changed. I asked him if he’d ever heard of Narnia and handed him a copy of The Horse and His Boy. I’d just bought it. I’d read it a dozen times at the library and I’d saved and saved for my very own copy. Will looked at me and then at the book.

“You can have it,” I said with a small smile. A friend was worth the weeks saving up for a book. I could save money again, but a friend was priceless.

Then his dad came around the corner. He was in a three-piece suit and shiny black shoes.

“Who is that?” he asked Will.

I blushed and looked down at my ratty, too small, secondhand tennis shoes.

“I don’t know. A nobody,” said Will in a strange crisp voice that made my chest hurt.

His dad frowned at me, so I looked down again. His suit had the brightest gold buttons. I wondered if they were real.

“Come on then. We have dinner with Congressman Gillihan and I wanted to hear about your latest theory on…”

They started to walk away, but then Will hesitated. He must’ve realized he still held my book in his hand.

“What’s that?” his dad asked.

Will paused, and I strained forward to hear his answer. He looked toward me, a quick dismissive flicker of his eyes, then he shrugged.

“Garbage.”

Then he tossed my book in the public trash can.

My chest felt like it was cracking open. Will and his dad strode away, not looking back. I ran to the trash. The flap on the door kept me from being able to reach deep enough. I couldn’t get my book back. I held back my tears and choked down the lump in my throat. It was just a book. Only a book.

I knew I used the characters as substitute friends, as a way to make my silent house seem full when my dad went weeks without saying one word.

But still, it was only a book.

I could get another. It didn’t mean anything that Will had thrown me…my book away.

I walked to the library and surrounded myself with the words and dreams and company of a thousand stories.

I blink and look up at Will. The edges of the used paperbacks dig into my back and legs. My chest feels achy and cracked open again. I don’t know how he does it, but Will always manages to find my broken spots, pry them open, and let out all the ghosts.

Enough.

I’m done with him interfering in my life.

“Not only do I promise to show Gavin we’re meant to be. I guarantee it.” I raise my chin and give him a challenging stare.

He blinks and his demeanor changes. He becomes less languid wickedness, and more the hard, ruthless, cold-hearted CEO that I know and don’t love.

“Then I promise,” he says in a low hard voice, “to do everything in my power to stop you.” His upper lip curls. “I guarantee it.”

Of course he does.

Of course.

That’s fine, Will doesn’t have the power of fate and a library of hundreds of romcoms behind him.

Love wins. Every time.

This is Romeo after all.

It’s on.