Love At First Ink: A Woodbine Valley Romance (Tate Family Book 1) Page 13

  And being close to Theo made a difference. She liked being able to help out her friend, and she liked seeing her. Elle wanted to live somewhere like Woodbine Valley, where everyone helped each other and knew one another by name. It made her yearn for something she barely recognized. Elle wanted to belong. Not just to one person—although that would be nice—but to a place. To a community.

  It was how she'd want her (depressingly theoretical) children to grow up, too. As a part of a place, and not just another anonymous face in a big city.

  "I know how it is," Justin said. "I lived out west for years, but at some point, I was ready to come back. It's quiet out here," he said. "People talk to each other."

  She nodded. "Yes, exactly."

  “You ever think about moving here?“ he asked. Then added, as an afterthought, “to be closer to Theo.”

  Elle thought for a moment, trying not to read anything into his question. "I do like it here,” she said. "I don't know if I could find work in such a small town, but … yes, I’m tempted. Although it would mean a big pay cut. And a change of work.”

  She debated sharing her next thought. It was something she hadn't told anyone, or even spoken aloud.

  "I wouldn't mind the pay cut if I could work in the libraries again."

  “But you work in a library now." He’d finished his pie and pushed his plate aside.

  “Technically, yes,” she said. “But I'm in a research library. I get some time with people, but mostly adults. People I have to be serious and professional around ... It's hard to explain. I help people research things, but mostly online. I spend a lot of time alone with a computer."

  Justin made a noise of understanding.

  She wrinkled her nose. “With my current job, I'm so removed from what made me fall in love with this kind of work in the first place." She paused, catching herself from saying more. Something about the way he waited for her to continue, the way he was listening to her, made her want to keep going. But she held back. “How about you?" she asked. "You said you like the pace here. Is that why you came back?"

  Justin shifted.

  "I'm being nosy," she rushed to add. "You don't have to answer that."

  "No," he said. He glanced at her for a moment as though debating how much to tell her. "I had a great job. Friends, money, apartment; the works." He paused. "My best friend and I started a company together. Everything was great. Then it wasn't."

  She cocked her head, listening.

  "He died. Two years ago."

  "Oh, Justin," Elle's voice quavered. "I'm so sorry." The idea of losing Theo or Isabelle made her heart ache for him. Was that why he was so closed off? So gruff? Or perhaps he had always been like this, but only more so after losing his friend.

  "You didn't know," he said simply. "No need to apologize. He lived fast and hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I was."

  Elle waited for Justin to continue.

  “After he died, I didn’t want it anymore. None of it. Besides, Adam owed a lot of money. He had debt I didn’t know about. So I sold my stuff, closed down our business, liquidated our assets. Moved back here as soon as I could.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you,” she said. “I wouldn't have brought it up if I had known."

  "It's not something I talk about," Justin admitted. He rubbed one hand over his forearm, the arm with the tattoo of mountaintops covered in trees.

  "Did you get those after he died?" she asked.

  "Yeah." His voice was rough. “When we lived here, Adam hated the mountains. Said he felt closed in by the trees. But the moment we got to L.A. he changed his tune. Guy couldn’t stop talking about ‘getting out in nature,’” he made a rueful smile. “He talked big about going camping, or even leaving L.A. and moving to the mountains, but it was just talk. One of his girlfriends was a painter and did a mural in our place. He broke up with her but kept the painting. When I moved I had to paint over it, but first I got this.“

  He held out his arm to her. “It’s the same painting.” She traced the inky path along treetops with one finger. When he shivered, she let go, suddenly aware of how intimate her touch had been.

  "What about the other arm?" she asked. “And your chest?”

  The corner of Justin's mouth quirked. “Those are from when I was young and stupid."

  “You? Never.” She smiled. “Tell me."

  He explained the history of the tattoos curling up his left arm. A flower for the woman who broke his heart in college. Another of a Celtic mark meant to honor his family name. Lines and shapes on his chest that meant nothing, but looked cool to a twenty-something Justin.

  “What do you want to do now?” she asked after he’d explained his tattoos. “Your mom mentioned that she’s buying Oak Bramble. Does that change things for you?”

  He groaned.

  She winced. “Sore topic?” she asked, guessing.

  “You could say that.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I was going to buy the place,” he said. “I had it all planned.”

  “But your mom is buying it. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  He shrugged. “It is. Sure.”

  Elle sat back, thinking. “I think I get it.”

  Justin gave her a quick, doubtful look.

  “No,” she said. “I do. You’re not sure what to do with yourself now. You came home, work became your focus, and now someone’s pulling the rug out from under you.”

  He tugged on his hat, something she noticed he did when he was getting cranky.

  “Oh, I’m so right,” she said.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to.” Elle was smiling. “Let me guess, you don’t like change, do you?”

  “I like it just fine,” he ground out. “You ready to go?” He slid out from behind the booth, not waiting for her reply.

  Elle followed, trying and failing to leave the booth elegantly, thinking that booths and short women did not mix. She stepped out of the diner and into the sun, walking quickly to catch up with Justin. The sidewalks were crowded with people who were out to enjoy the good weather. Shops had opened their doors, and everything from fluttering dresses to home décor was on display. Elle wouldn’t have minded a lazy post-breakfast stroll, but Justin strode toward his truck like a man on a mission.

  "Listen," she said after she caught up to him. ”I’m sorry I said that. About you not liking change. I should have just kept my opinions to myself.”

  He grunted. He didn’t look happy, but at least he’d stopped to listen to her.

  “You and I got off to a rough start,” she said.

  He grunted something that sounded like, “That’s for damn sure.”

  “But this morning was pretty … okay. Wasn’t it?”

  Another grunt.

  “What if we called a truce," she said. “I’ll quit asking personal questions, and we can go back to having an okay time.

  He didn’t say anything to that, but gave her a look she interpreted as something like, Women are weird.

  "You and I," she said. “We can be friends, right?"

  This time, his pause was long enough to make her feel like a complete idiot. Asking him to be friends like a five-year-old in a playground. What was she thinking?

  She was thinking that she liked this man. She wanted to be his friend. She wanted to spend time with him. And, perhaps, by putting whatever this was into the “friend” category, she could keep things light and easy. Safe.

  Then, Justin held out his hand. The flutter in her stomach, the tingling rush that ran up her spine, told her Justin would never be anything but dangerous to her.

  "Okay, then,” he said.

  She took his hand. His skin was warm. The callouses made her shiver.

  "Friends," he said with a confident, amused grin.

  "Friends," she echoed.

  Justin smiled. “Would you mind a detour?” They were at his truck, but he paused before opening her door.

  �
�What kind of detour?”

  “Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand. “There’s something you should see.”

  Elle followed him down the sidewalk, retracing their steps through the tidy downtown. She enjoyed seeing little kids running ahead of their parents, rushing to press their faces against the ice cream shop’s window. There was a park with a large green space and a gazebo, and not far from there she could see a white church spire. The town was small but complete.

  Justin led her across a green to a small white house with large windows. The moment they stepped inside, Elle knew where she was.

  “Books!” She said.

  Justin wasn’t grinning, exactly, but she could tell he was pleased by her reaction.

  The tiny house had been converted to a library and was lined with shelves of books. The tall windows gave the library a warm glow, and the rooms were cozy instead of crowded. She stepped inside, passing the front desk where a librarian in funky glasses waved at Justin. Each room held a different genre, and a sign pointing upstairs told her where the nonfiction stacks were held.

  Elle could never tire of bookstores and libraries. Especially libraries. They held such a wealth of information, fathomless adventures, hours upon hours of escape.

  Elle and Justin circled back to the front of the house, where a children’s story hour was taking place. Children formed a half circle around a woman in a jewel-toned tunic holding a book. Their faces were all trained on her as she wove the story around them, using her voice to bring a magic-filled world to life. She ended the story and the children groaned.

  “Read another!” A little girl with pigtails begged.

  “Yeah!” A chorus of small voices chimed in.

  The woman laughed. “I’ve read two already,” she said. “I need a break. Unless you can convince a volunteer …”

  The kids looked around, eagerly eyeing the nearby adults. Elle and Justin realized the trap had been set, but they were too late.

  “She’s a librarian,” Justin said, nudging Elle forward.

  The audience cheered. The little girl with pigtails jumped to her feet and grabbed Elle by the hand, dragging her forward. Elle looked back over her shoulder and mouthed, “You’re mean!” to Justin. Then she turned back, careful not to step on small fingers as she was taken to the reader’s seat.

  The older woman gave up her chair with a smile. “Why thank you y’all so much for volunteering,” she said. “Are you really a librarian?”

  “Yes,” Elle said, mindful of her audience. She lowered her voice. “I’m a research librarian, though. I’ve never read books out loud.”

  The woman winked at her. “You’ll catch on.” For the kids, she added, “Just read and don’t let them rope you into too many stories.”

  Elle took a seat, and the kids helped her pick out a book. At first, Elle could tell she left a lot to be desired as a reader. She was too tense. Too formal. She could feel Justin watching her, and for some reason, it made her want to prove that she could do this, too.

  As Elle read, she began to lose her self-consciousness. She pushed all thoughts of being perfect away and started to have fun. The first time she got a laugh from her listeners, she beamed. It was the best feeling in the world.

  She’d never thought of becoming a children’s librarian. It had seemed too close to being an elementary teacher—too wild and chaotic. But the little faces peered up at her with focus, intent on hearing the story, just as she told it. Time stretched and Elle lost herself in the story. The kids gasped and laughed, clapped and cheered as the hero had misadventures.

  When the woman in the jewel-toned tunic returned to say storytime was over, Elle was surprised by her disappointment.

  “But what happens at the end?” a boy asked. “Does the dragon eat him?”

  The pigtailed girl chimed in, “She can’t stop reading now.”

  Parents started to arrive.

  “Perhaps she’ll return for our next storytime,” the woman said. “Are you available next week?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Elle said, truly sorry.

  The kids were shuttled off by their parents and likely forgot all about their guest reader. But Elle had a feeling she wouldn’t forget.

  “You’re good at that,” Justin said as they walked back to his truck.

  “Really?” she asked. “You’re not only saying that because we’re friends now?”

  He grinned. “Nope. And you’re not that good. The other librarian did better voices.”

  She laughed.

  “But you held their attention. That’s impressive. And—" he glanced at her. “You looked happy.”

  Elle mulled over his words. She wasn’t the type of person to seek happiness from her job. Security. Status. Those things, yes. Happiness? That was something you found at home, or—for her mother—by shopping.

  They arrived at his truck, and he opened her door. Elle hopped in, finding a certain satisfaction at her newfound ease with his beast of a vehicle.

  When he started the thing, it coughed and rumbled a bit before the engine turned over.

  “Thank you,” she told him once it lowered to a purr.

  He looked at her. Just a look, but it was enough to make her wonder why she’d asked if they could be friends. “Don’t mention it.”

  Chapter 14

  When Elle and Justin returned to Oak Bramble, the inn was buzzing with activity. Jess had called in extra employees to help with the photo shoot, and the grounds were crowded with people, tables, lights, models, and camera equipment. Jess was in the middle of the chaos, directing and fixing details, all with her warm smile and bright laugh.

  “Mom,” Justin said, coming up behind her.

  Jess turned, giving Justin a blinding smile. “You’re back! Do you see this?”

  “I sure do,” he said.

  “The place looks amazing,” Elle told Jess. “Truly.”

  Jess blushed, looking pleased. “I was so nervous before the magazine crew arrived,” she confided. “But now I’m too busy to be worried. It does look good though, doesn’t it?”

  The models were being directed to a long table decked out with the place settings Elle had suggested. A buzz of pleasure at being a part of the scene ran through Elle’s veins.

  “You should see what they’ve done so far,” Jess was saying. “They only just finished photographing the interior of the inn and the grounds. And I just love that Sasha.”

  “Sasha?” Justin asked.

  “The writer!” Jess said, as though he should have known.

  Elle bit back a smile when Justin made a face. It sounded as though Sasha had graduated from being called, that woman.

  “What a talented young lady. Apparently, she’s heard of Oliver—smart girl—and she spent a good fifteen minutes telling me how much she loves his work!”

  “Oliver?” Elle asked.

  “My youngest son,” Jess explained. “He writes for a magazine in Seattle. Anyhow, Sasha is directing the shoot, and I just love her vision for it. Oh, Jus, this is going to put us on the map! I just know it. You’ll see. After this Mister Vanhelt will hand over the place. Heck, he’ll likely pay me to take it off his hands!”

  “Hm,” Justin said. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, Elle noted.

  “Well, off you go. I have so much to do. You’re preparing the croissants, right?”

  Justin nodded. “I’m on it.”

  “Oh, maybe Elle should help you,” Jess said quickly, as though she’d just thought of it.

  “I’m sure Justin has had enough of me today,” Elle chimed in.

  “Mom, I don’t need help,” Justin said. “She’s exhausted. We just ran around after those little—“

  Elle gave him a look. Jess did too.

  “Well,” he finished gruffly. “I don’t need help.”

  “Hogwash,” Jess said. “It’s a triple batch.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But I still don’t need help.”

  Someone—a sharply dressed brunette
Elle would guess was Sasha—called Jess’s name.

  “I have to run,” Jess said briskly. “No more arguing. Elle, you’ll help. Justin, you’ll take it. Done?”

  Elle knew when she’d been had. Besides, making croissants sounded … fun. Would it really be so bad? “Yes, of course,” she told Jess.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Justin said.

  “Excellent! See you later.” Jess squeezed Justin’s arm, then waved and turned to the shoot.

  Elle removed her shawl once they were in the kitchen. She placed it over a chair.

  “Any ideas why your mom is set on putting us together?” she asked.

  Justin shook his head. He opened a tall cupboard and pulled out an apron. As he handed it to her, he said, “She’s meddling. It’s what moms do.”

  “I suppose so,” Elle said.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “She’ll get over it.” With a mischievous grin, he added, “I know I’m not your type.”

  Elle looked away as she put the apron on, pulling it over her head and wrapping the strings around her waist. In truth, Justin’s grin did strange things to her. It made her wonder about what it would be like to kiss him. Which was a terrible idea for so many reasons, one because he was Justin and two because she’d just asked him to be her friend.

  Friend. Not kissing buddy.

  Which was a good thing?

  Right.

  "So Jess usually does this?" she asked, redirecting the conversation to safer topics.

  Justin nodded. "She taught all of us kids when we were little. Croissants take a few days to make. You mix the dough, let it sit overnight, then you fold the dough and the butter together a few times. The butter needs to stay firm, though, so you chill it after each fold. Then you chill that overnight. You don’t get to bake them until the third day. The dough’s ready to go, so you’ll be helping me with the folding.”