“Speaking of the Book Nook,” Jasper calls above the building noise as the crowd around us begins to grow. “I was thinking you could do something like this there.”

My eyebrows knit together as I look up at him. “Something like what? A concert?”

I’m not an expert by any means, but I think concerts need . . . I don’t know? Space and some kind of equipment to perform or something. All things I do not have.

“Not a concert, no.” He shakes his head and his unruly waves fall across his face. My palms itch to tuck his hair behind his ear, to see if it feels as soft as it looks. “Have an open mic night. Display your poetry books and let local artists perform in the nook. It might be something you and your customers enjoy.”

I let the idea simmer for a minute before I realize he’s right, I would like that. Just like I love story time, I love the idea of forming a more adult evening. It’s surprised me how much I enjoy planning out the details and building community through the store.

But even though it sounds fun, I don’t know if I’ll act on it. I’m in charge at the Book Nook, but it still doesn’t feel like it’s mine. Every day I walk into the store, I do so trying to preserve the vision Gran had for the space. I need to make sure it evolves, but in a way I know she would be proud of. I would love an open mic night, but would she? That’s something I’ll have to think about a little longer.

“I really do like the idea. I’m going to think on it, see how it would fit in the store.” I tell him the truth but leave out all the extra junk. For one night I want to have fun and live in the moment. I don’t want to think about what tomorrow might bring or what happened yesterday—well, maybe the kiss, but def not my dad—only this exact moment. One where I’m a normal woman on a kick-ass date with the hottest, kindest guy I’ve ever met. I want to be a character in a book who doesn’t live in her head and makes the most out of her life. “Now let me buy you a drink. If I’m going to dance, I’m going to need to be well lubricated.”

I can tell he wants to say more about the open mic night, but he goes along with my subject change.

“I’d love a drink.” He takes my hand again, but before we start walking to the bar, he pulls me against his chest, dropping his head to mine. “But I want to kiss you more.”

I don’t answer.

Well, not with words, anyway.