Page 3 of Truth and Temptation
Freckles.
She has freckles.
A slight upturned nose, large dark-rimmed glasses, a perfect heart-shaped mouth, and freckles.
No one except Ryder ever knew that fucking freckles were so goddamn attractive to me. I can’t explain it, it’s weird and random and probably laughable, but a woman with freckles is gorgeous to me. Maybe it has to do with natural beauty versus created beauty, although, don’t get me wrong, a woman wearing a face of makeup, looking glamourous is stunning as well. Either way, freckles have always been my undoing. Especially if they’re on more
than just her face…
Neither one of them spare me a glance as they walk past, which shouldn’t bother me, but for some reason I don’t want to explore right now, it does.
“Alrighty, what I can get for you?” I look up to the bright-faced young man behind the counter. His name tag reads Sebastian and he’s got a welcoming smile on his face.
“Americano misto and I guess I’ll try an apple nut muffin, please.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Oh trust me, there is no ‘I guess’ about it. You need an apple nut muffin, and today’s your lucky day. Mila made extra.”
I nod and give him a small smile in return. I have no idea who Mila is, or why these muffins are so important, but okay. He rings me up, hands me a bag holding the famous muffin, and directs me to wait over to the side for my coffee.
Just a few minutes later, I’m walking out the door of the café, and somehow my feet automatically turn to the left and carry me to the purple door of Pages. I’m not one to hesitate, more of an act now, think later kind of guy, so I’m pushing open the door before I can think twice about it.
There are bells attached to the door that make a surprisingly pleasant sound when I enter. Inside, it’s warm and inviting. Not too crowded with shelves, but full of enough books that it’s easy to see the appeal of the smaller store. My marketing eye travels over the shelves, taking in the unique categories she has things divided into. In what I assume is the mystery section, I see Crimes Solved by Professionals next to Crimes Solved by Cats. On another shelf, there’s Here There Be Dragons and on another — a shelf filled with books on politics — I see a label that makes me laugh out loud. Fiction Masquerading as Truth. I take note of a couple of seating areas, including one that is beside what I assume is a gas fireplace, and another with giant pillows in bright colours on the floor, perfectly situated in the children’s section.
“Can I help you find something?”
I turn to see Paige standing to the side, a stack of books in her arms. Her brow furrows with a slight frown. “You were in front of us at the café.”
“Ah, yes.” Shit, does she know I overheard her conversation? I open my mouth to apologize, but then she continues.
“I meant to apologize for Mila serving us ahead of you. She does not always consider the optics of such a decision in front of customers who are unaware of our close friendship.”
Her direct and formal speech pattern intrigues me. It’s refreshing in a way; there’s no pretense to what she says, and I can appreciate that. I watch as she places the books on a shelf under another category sign that has me laughing under my breath Books that Could Be a PowerPoint.
“Do people still use PowerPoint?”
Paige pauses in her shelving, turning to me with a copy of the latest from a popular self-help guru in hand. “Excuse me?”
I gesture to the sign. She looks up, then back to me, her lips quirking up in a smile. “I’m not entirely certain, to be honest.” She places the last book on the shelf and turns to face me, extending her hand. “I’m
Paige. Do you need a book?”
I place my hand in hers, surprised by the firmness to her shake. “Wyatt. And doesn’t everyone need a book?”
Her eyes widen. “I certainly think so.”
Chapter two
Paige
Firm handshake, smooth-skinned palms, warm. I notice these things subconsciously, my mind filing them away. Taking in the sensation of his hand in mine, I analyze my reaction. It’s…enjoyable, feeling his skin against mine. Odd. I don’t believe I’ve felt that way from a handshake before.
“…guidebooks for the area, something that includes information on climbing routes.”
His deep voice jolts me back to the present moment. Another odd experience. Normally, I’m capable of maintaining focus on multiple subjects, but I truly lost track of what he was saying. I am quite disconcerted by what’s happening to me right now. Thankfully, my brain catches up with what he’s saying relatively quickly, and I’m able to formulate an adequate reply.
“Yes, I have multiple selections that may suit your needs.” I pull my hand away from his, feeling a mild sense of loss when our palms lose contact. I walk over to the How to Be A Local section and quickly find the two books I’m thinking of before venturing close to him again and handing them over.
While he scans the cover and reads the descriptions, I surreptitiously catalogue more observations about the man in front of me. Tall, dark hair a touch too long and unruly, as if he’s overdue for a haircut. Strong features with thick eyebrows that frame dark blue eyes, and an angular jawline, covered in what Serena would undoubtedly call ‘scruff,’ but is more accurately described as closely trimmed facial hair. He’s attractive. An indescribable feeling starts to build inside my chest. I examine it critically, while still paying some attention to Wyatt. My breathing pattern is slightly rapid, but not constricted, meaning this is not an asthma flare up. After close to thirty years of dealing with my chronic illness, I am somewhat of an expert in the matter. So why do I feel my heart rate also accelerating?
