“It’s fine. Those places are a bit much for a first date. We both feel the same way about first dates. Tell you what—wear a pretty dress and I’ll come up with something you’ll like. Deal?”

He said “first date” as if a subsequent date was a foregone conclusion. She was quiet, and he added, “Anyway, let’s not call it our first. Remember, those are awkward and we can’t have awkward.”

“How is it not a first date?”

“We went to the Library Bar.”

“That wasn’t a date.”

“Why not? Because we didn’t kiss good night?”

Natalie caught her breath. Had she wanted that? “Because you showed up out of the blue and bought a book from me. That’s not a date. It’s a transaction.”

“I’m counting it as our first so this next one won’t be awkward. I’m a fiction writer. I’m good at pretending.”

Natalie wasn’t, though. The world she inhabited—Grandy, the bookshop, the falling-apart building—was all too real. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Take a chance,” he urged. “It’ll be fine.”

And maybe it would be. He was, after all, Prince Charming.

17

A half hour before closing time, Cleo shooed her upstairs. “Go get ready. Put on your lipstick and heels. I’ll finish here.”

Natalie sent her a grateful smile. “You’re an enabler, like Tess.”

“That’s because I owe you one, for introducing me to Lyra.”

“My one matchmaking success. I’ll always be proud of you two,” said Natalie. “It wasn’t a stretch, though. An adorable playwright and an adorable opera librettist? A no-brainer.”

“You know what might be a no-brainer? An adorable bookseller and a smokin’ hot author.”

“You say. This is just for fun,” Natalie demurred. “I’m ambivalent, and I shouldn’t be.”

“I agree. He’s perfect on paper and he’s checking all the boxes and you’re still skittish.”

“I was so wrong about Rick,” Natalie admitted. “I don’t want to go down that road again. And come on. Trevor Dashwood? He’s like that guy in high school you dream about dating but never do, the football captain type.”

“Hey. I dated the football captain in high school,” Cleo pointed out. “That’s how I found out I like girls.”

As she spoke, Peach passed through the shop, carrying a ladder out to his truck. “I’ll just steer clear of this conversation,” he said with a grin. “Have a good evening, girls.”

“Go on.” Cleo shooed Natalie again. “Make yourself pretty and have fun with Prince Charming.”