face. “Sorry. I’m in a bitch of a mood. But I’ll take care of the mess. You should be back home, taking it easy, anyway.”
“Handing you three or four books isn’t going to slow my recovery any, I promise you, Elliot.” She smiled at him.
The dimple in her cheek winked and his heart stuttered in his chest. That dimple had always gotten to him. Damn it, how could she still get to him like this? Hadn’t he decided he was better off without the complication of Shay Morgan?
Shit
. Clearing his throat, he focused his attention back on the books in front of him, stacking the books that he wouldn’t have to trash in one pile and the rest in another. “So how is that recovery going? You going to need physical therapy or anything?”
“No. I was lucky. If it hadn’t been for the coma andthe head injuries, I probably would have been able to go home within a few days, but those complicated things. I ended up with pneumonia in ICU, but that’s not as bad as the other stuff.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“It sounds like it was bad enough.” He held up a hand and ticked the problems off on his fingers. “Coma. Head injuries. Pneumonia. Any of those could have been bad, just on their own. But all three? You should be taking it easy. So why aren’t you resting?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve rested. Two weeks, flat on my back.” Her fingers toyed with the folds of her long denim skirt, twisting them, smoothing them out. Twist, smooth, twist, smooth … over and over … He wanted to reach over and catch her hands in his, hold them and get her to tell him what was wrong.
That wasn’t going to happen. So he focused on the obvious.
She was nervous about something. Very nervous. She wasn’t looking at him and she was fidgeting.
Elliot had learned to read people pretty damn well. It had come in handy during his years in the army and in the years since he’d bought the bookstore.
Reading Shay wasn’t always easy because she was about as open as a closed book, but right now, she was nervous as hell.
Shifting around, he faced her and waited her out.
She shot a quick look at him, her eyes bouncing around to land somewhere in the vicinity of his chin before moving to linger on his right shoulder as she said, “Besides, I need to ask you a question.”
“I’m all ears.”
She paused in her endless twisting and folding of her skirt to reach for a book by her side. Seeing the copy of the book she held, his curiosity stirred. He’d almost forgotten about it. “I heard you’d picked one up. Whatmade you change your mind about trying these?” he asked, reaching for the copy of
Death Sigh
. It was one of the store’s copies. He recognized his store’s autographed copy sticker.
Her fingers uncurled from the book slowly as he tugged it out of her grasp, but it struck him that she was reluctant to let it go. From under his lashes, he watched her.
“I didn’t exactly change my mind,” she said quietly. Her tongue stroked across her lower lip.
For a moment, he was distracted. He wanted to lean in and trace the path her tongue had taken with his own.
Focus, Winter
. Flipping the book open, he looked at the flowing, flowery script on the title page, giving himself a minute before he looked back at Shay. “So what’s up?”
“I want to know about the person who signed it.”
Elliot cocked a brow at her. “Okay … although I’m curious why the sudden interest. I’d tried to get you to read these for years. Why the change of mind now?”
Shay closed her eyes.
Elliot had always been good at realizing when things were about to go to hell—five seconds before it happened. It was a weird feeling. A tension of sorts, something that lingered in the air and all but choked the oxygen out of it in some bizarre way.
This was one of those moments—everything was about to go straight to hell and he knew it. Adrenaline slammed into him and his
“Handing you three or four books isn’t going to slow my recovery any, I promise you, Elliot.” She smiled at him.
The dimple in her cheek winked and his heart stuttered in his chest. That dimple had always gotten to him. Damn it, how could she still get to him like this? Hadn’t he decided he was better off without the complication of Shay Morgan?
Shit
. Clearing his throat, he focused his attention back on the books in front of him, stacking the books that he wouldn’t have to trash in one pile and the rest in another. “So how is that recovery going? You going to need physical therapy or anything?”
“No. I was lucky. If it hadn’t been for the coma andthe head injuries, I probably would have been able to go home within a few days, but those complicated things. I ended up with pneumonia in ICU, but that’s not as bad as the other stuff.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“It sounds like it was bad enough.” He held up a hand and ticked the problems off on his fingers. “Coma. Head injuries. Pneumonia. Any of those could have been bad, just on their own. But all three? You should be taking it easy. So why aren’t you resting?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve rested. Two weeks, flat on my back.” Her fingers toyed with the folds of her long denim skirt, twisting them, smoothing them out. Twist, smooth, twist, smooth … over and over … He wanted to reach over and catch her hands in his, hold them and get her to tell him what was wrong.
That wasn’t going to happen. So he focused on the obvious.
She was nervous about something. Very nervous. She wasn’t looking at him and she was fidgeting.
Elliot had learned to read people pretty damn well. It had come in handy during his years in the army and in the years since he’d bought the bookstore.
Reading Shay wasn’t always easy because she was about as open as a closed book, but right now, she was nervous as hell.
Shifting around, he faced her and waited her out.
She shot a quick look at him, her eyes bouncing around to land somewhere in the vicinity of his chin before moving to linger on his right shoulder as she said, “Besides, I need to ask you a question.”
“I’m all ears.”
She paused in her endless twisting and folding of her skirt to reach for a book by her side. Seeing the copy of the book she held, his curiosity stirred. He’d almost forgotten about it. “I heard you’d picked one up. Whatmade you change your mind about trying these?” he asked, reaching for the copy of
Death Sigh
. It was one of the store’s copies. He recognized his store’s autographed copy sticker.
Her fingers uncurled from the book slowly as he tugged it out of her grasp, but it struck him that she was reluctant to let it go. From under his lashes, he watched her.
“I didn’t exactly change my mind,” she said quietly. Her tongue stroked across her lower lip.
For a moment, he was distracted. He wanted to lean in and trace the path her tongue had taken with his own.
Focus, Winter
. Flipping the book open, he looked at the flowing, flowery script on the title page, giving himself a minute before he looked back at Shay. “So what’s up?”
“I want to know about the person who signed it.”
Elliot cocked a brow at her. “Okay … although I’m curious why the sudden interest. I’d tried to get you to read these for years. Why the change of mind now?”
Shay closed her eyes.
Elliot had always been good at realizing when things were about to go to hell—five seconds before it happened. It was a weird feeling. A tension of sorts, something that lingered in the air and all but choked the oxygen out of it in some bizarre way.
This was one of those moments—everything was about to go straight to hell and he knew it. Adrenaline slammed into him and his
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