filled the air with mouthwatering smells and Eli Elliott’s coffee bar and country bookstore drew patrons from all over. The street was so quaint, so warm and charming, that she knew it was the ideal place for the shop she wanted to open.
“You have good taste,” Zach finished.
“Thank you. I try.”
Chad sidled up to her as she delved into the small carton of first editions. Their hands tangled and their bodies brushed as he reached inside to help. Kristin inched away, feeling even more awkward.
“Actually, I think her taste has improved a lot over the years,” Chad remarked.
“How’s that?” Zach called.
“Oh, the company she keeps, for one thing. She hangs out with a classier group of people now.”
“Really?” Zach asked with a slow smile. “Compared to whom?”
Kristin glared at Chad, then fumbled with the books, feeling the temperature in the room rise. He and Zach were headed for a confrontation, sure as heat in July, and she had to diffuse it. “Chad, could you grab a—”
She’d intended to ask for a sturdier box in which to store the books. But as the words left her mouth, the other side of the damaged box split open and books tumbled from the glass counter and fell to the floor. With an exasperated sigh, she dropped to her knees to close the books that had opened before their pages could be creased and ruined.
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