“Not sure how much this will mean to you,” he says, and I keep my eyes focused on the bumper-sticker-covered car in front of me. “But I’ve been to a lot of bookstores in my day, and the Book Nook is already one of my favorites. A few friends told me how great it was, so I had high expectations, but you still managed to surpass them all.”

While he was talking, my heart did this really weird thing. It started pounding in my chest, harder than it ever has before, even skipping a few beats before winding me so tight that I’m pretty sure it’s lodged in my throat. As much as I want to thank him, it’s preventing me from saying anything at all.

I don’t know what it is about his words, coming out of his mouth, in the deep, thick tenor of his voice, that makes them feel so important. Elsie and the Dirty Birds (minus sweet old Collette) often tell me I’m doing a great job. I know they mean it, but I also know that they love me and are extremely biased. When Jasper’s friends visited, Gran was in charge. Hearing his gracious compliments quiets the anxiety and fear I have about disappointing people because I’m not her.

I bite my bottom lip and fidget with the steering wheel for a moment before getting my shit together enough to say thank you.

“I really appreciate you saying that, thank you.” I still don’t look at him because if he happens to look back at me, with that soft look he gets on his face, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, I know I’ll cry. I’m not wearing any makeup that will get ruined or anything, but my face will still get all blotchy and my eyes will get swollen. Plus, I’ve already cried in front of him once and I will not allow it to become a regular occurrence.

“You’re welcome. And I promise I didn’t say that because Mona forced me to.” He’s joking . . . or at least I think he is. You never know with Mona, and now I might have to give her a call when I get home this evening. “Or because I like the owner with not-so-great book knowledge, but who’s turning out to be a fantastic travel guide.”

Even if the car in front of me flipped over and burst into flames, exploding in midair, it still wouldn’t have stopped me from turning my head—and complete attention—to the man next to me, who I think said out loud and in real life that he likes me.

Or maybe I have finally lost it.

The former seems way more plausible.

“What?” I forget any semblance of manners as I stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the gorgeous man next to me.