from the back of the store with a tray of steaming coffee and cups.
“To take the chill off.” Lane told herself she didn’t have to invite friendship or anything, but she didn’t have to be rude to McKay. He knew everyone and everyone read books. So it was good for business.
Tyler took a cup, warming his hands.
The cop declined, asked her a few questions, then handed them each a copy of the report and left. Tyler tucked his copy in his jacket and sipped coffee.
Lane wished he would leave, too. The man unnerved her, and if the FBI’s constant questions about what she knew about her brother Angel’s alleged illegal business deals hadn’t done that, it was saying something. She’d just as soon not listen.
“How come I haven’t seen you around before?”
“Well, I sell books. Do you read?”
“Of course I do.”
A smile teased her lips and she peered at him through the round glasses. Tyler was struck again by the beauty of her eyes.
“Apparently not enough, Mr. McKay.”
Tyler grinned. “You’re still upset about the car.”
“No, not really,” she said. “Maybe I can get a new one out of it.” He liked the little smile she was trying not to show.
“It would have to be totaled for that.”
“Well, I could leave it there, and if you go driving again, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
He laughed, a soft rumble that matched the thunder outside. Just then the little bell above the door tinkled as a boy of about twelve entered the shop, shaking off the rain. Lane smiled at him.
“Man, what a downpour,” he said. “Hey, Mr. McKay.”
“Hi, Davis.”
The kid frowned out the window, inclining his head. “Is that your car all smashed up out there?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Aw, man, that’s an insult to a car like that.”
“It can be fixed.”
Lane glanced between the two. “Can I help you with something?”
The boy held up a plastic packet of flyers. “Winter Festival flyers. Can I put one in your window?”
“Sure.”
Setting down her cup, she crossed to the boy, gathering tape and a small towel as she went. She handed him the towel to dry his face and chatted softly with him as she put the flyer in the front window, asking him if the location was what he needed.
Tyler saw a different woman just then, one with kinder eyes than she’d had for him. He didn’t get it. There weren’t many women who could resist the McKay charm. Or so his mother told him. And he was turning his on high.
“See ya later, Mr. McKay.”
“Later, Davis.”
“Watch the traffic,” Lane said. “There are some reckless drivers out there.”
“Being the graceful victor is out of the question, huh?” Tyler said after the boy left.
“It’s not every day the town playboy slams into my poor defenseless car.”
“You forgave me, and who said I was a playboy?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh and walked behind the counter. “Who hasn’t, McKay?” She slid an extra flyer in front of her, reading the list of events and ignoring him. Which was next to impossible.
“Lies, I swear.”
Lane looked up. He was smiling, and she thought, he’s dangerous, get him out of here. “You needn’t defend yourself. I form my own opinions and though I know who you are, I don’t care what you do.”
“Intriguing,” he said. “A woman who doesn’t care what gossips have to say?”
She lifted her gaze, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. What did he know about gossips? A few locals musing about his love life? Hah. He should try life in the big leagues. When people in Outer Mongolia knew what you had for breakfast or what you wore to bed. Now that took gossip to a whole new level. And put it on the front page of a tabloid that every person in America who goes through a checkout line at the grocery store can see.
Oh, yeah. There was gossip and then there was gossip.
“Isn’t there someplace you should be?” she asked, anxious to get him out of her shop, out of her life. “Like work?”
Tyler felt something in him pitch by just looking into her eyes. She could probably give a man frostbite without even trying. And yet, something told him, it might be worth it just to see if he could start a fire in solid ice. “Nope.”
“Ahh, the life of Riley.”
“It’s raining,” he reminded her. “You won’t get many customers today.”
“You’d be surprised what people will do for a good book on a day like this. It’s perfect curl-up-and-read weather.”
He wouldn’t mind curling up right here. The stray thought surprised him and he blinked as if to catch it back. After all, she with her waterlogged-librarian look wasn’t exactly the stuff of dreams. But still…those whiskey eyes of hers continued to draw him in. Whether he wanted to be or not.
“Are you working the festival?” He pointed to the flyer she’d taken from the boy and was taping to her counter.
“No.”
Now that surprised him. The Winter Festival was the one time a year when every merchant in Bradford banded together. Good for the town, good for business. Plus, it was a hell of a lot of fun, with different events scheduled every day for a couple of weeks. People came from all over the state for it. “How come?”
“I chose not to.”
“Party pooper.”
She was trying not to smile again. He could tell.
“All the local businesses join in,” he said.
She arched a brow, still looking over the rims of her glasses. “The gas station does? The carwash?”
“You bet. Dennis at the gas station gives away tickets for a free carwash with every fill-up. And Mike at the carwash gives away ten dollars worth of gas with every wash and wax.” He took another sip of coffee and rocked back on his heels. “So how about it?”
“I sell books and I don’t do it from a vendor’s cart.”
“You sell coffee, too.” He gestured to the small coffee bar surrounded by cozy overstuffed chairs.
“Oh,
