Cinnamon Roll Set Up (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

20. Georgia

Chapter 20

Georgia

Despite the turmoil raging in my confused little brain, Dogeared remains my happy place. I love the coziness of being surrounded by books, coffee, and delicious treats, even when my heart’s on a never-ending rollercoaster. I come to work or just hang out and let it soothe me.

I don’t so much fight the butterflies that threaten to overtake me whenever I’m in the same room with Miles now as just…let them do their thing. Flutter on, you crazy butterflies. I’ll figure out what to do about you eventually.

Unfortunately, a few days after my big confessional to my sister-in-law, Sam shows up at my happy place. Not unusual, but still a tiny bit suspicious. I want to believe Harper didn’t blab everything I said to Sam, but it entirely slipped my mind to make her swear she wouldn’t.

I should have gotten it in writing.

Sam walks through the door with another man right behind him. He’s got the biggest, most self-satisfied “Sam grin” on his face. That right there tells me he means to kick up a little trouble.

“Good afternoon, baby sister. ”

“Sam.” I am wary, like an explorer wandering a jungle filled with stinging, annoying pests.

“This is my friend, Maverick.” He gestures at the other man, who smiles and gives me a nod. “We’re getting ready to head out on a hike for a couple of days, but he was thinking about picking up something to read first.”

Maverick reaches across the counter to shake my hand. His generous smile is totally the stuff of romance novels. “Sam’s talked about you a lot. It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Maverick was in the Army for fifteen years and now works for a private security company down in Austin.” Sam’s smile, on the other hand, is a virtual poke in the eye. “Isn’t that something?”

“That’s…yeah. That’s very interesting.”

If I had a button I could push and go back in time so I could just never talk to my brother, I would push it so hard right now.

Maverick laughs. “It’s not all that interesting. We mostly do security for boring tech guys, but it pays the bills.”

“Who did you say makes up the rest of your team?” Sam asks with perfected innocence.

“A couple of guys from the unit I was with back in the day. We already know how to work together, so it seemed like a good fit.”

I just go on staring. This is a thing people really do, and not just in romance book scenarios? Get the unit back together to take on civilian baddies?

“He’s still pretty new to the area. Meeting new people.” Sam ticks his eyebrows at me.

I paste on my customer service smile even though my organs all seize up like they just got doused in ice water. He is not doing what I think he’s doing. “That’s really great for you.”

“Isn’t it?” Sam goes on smiling at me. Waiting for me to crack .

“I’m going to take a look around, if you don’t mind.” Maverick nods at me again and steps away into the stacks.

I plant my hands on the front counter and lean toward my awful, scheming, no-good brother. “What are you doing?”

It’s a seething whisper I don’t want Maverick or the people sitting in the café area to hear. If the place were empty, I’d have no problem going full volume, but I’m not going to make a scene. Even though I’d be well within my rights as a disgruntled sister.

“I’m introducing you to your dream man.”

If Sam doesn’t stop smiling soon, I’m going to smack him.

“Why would you do that?” I hiss. “I don’t want that.”

“Isn’t he everything you said you wanted?” Sam at least pitches his voice low, but it’s not nearly whispery enough for me. “He’s former military, older than you, protective, skilled with his hands.”

“Shh—I never said skilled with his hands.”

Sam manages to look solemn. “It should be on the list, George.”

I glance over at Maverick browsing the stacks. He really does look like one of my special ops guys come to life. Tall and broad, with a long-sleeve shirt that hugs his muscular upper body. Hair just shy of close-cropped so he can joke about “civilian haircuts.” A couple of days’ worth of stubble across his jaw.

He probably leans in doorways and growls at guys who look at his woman the wrong way too.

“Are you messing with me? Is he even any of that stuff you just said? There’s no way that’s his name. Nobody’s named Maverick .”

That’s squarely a romance book hero name, like Knox or Ransom. It’s not the name of an actual human man.

“Oh, it’s his name. And it’s all true. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Sam’s grin reappears, which kind of puts a damper on his whole “wouldn’t lie to you” declaration.

Even though I know deep down he wouldn’t. Mercilessly tease, yes. Flat-out lie, no.

That’s almost worse. Because that means that the man in the stacks really is a former military private bodyguard with a heart of gold named Maverick. I’m guessing at the heart of gold part, but all those kinds of heroes have them. Tragic backstories, found family, ready to move heaven and earth for their love interest. The works.

Behind Sam, outside the café window, I spot Miles on the sidewalk. He’s talking with one of the elderly women I met at game night at Fiesta Village. He’s been taking it easy these last couple of days since the migraine, but today he looks like himself again.

Hello, butterflies.

But, no. I can’t have Miles walk in here when Sam is doing the absolute most to ruin my day with his good buddy Maverick. I want to crawl into a hole and then commit physical violence against my brother. Or maybe violence first, then get in the hole.

“So?” Sam goads. “Is this love at first sight?”

My gaze darts back to Miles. He’s smiling at the older woman, listening attentively while she tells him about who knows what. Because of course he’s going to stop and be a good person no matter what else he has to do in his busy day. That’s just who Miles is. He’s thoughtful, generous, and patient to the core. He’s the sweetest ever.

Sam follows my gaze, looking over his shoulder. When his attention returns to me, his smile is even smugger than it was before. “That’s what I figured.”

I think I’m going to be sick.

Sam can’t figure anything out. I’ve barely figured anything out.

Maverick joins us at the counter with a thriller in his hands. “Found one.”

“That’s a good option.” I honestly don’t even know what he’s holding. I barely pay attention, working on autopilot to punch in the purchase price and tap his credit card.

Miles walks into Dogeared, and my mouth goes too dry to speak. All I can do is trust Sam not to make this a thousand times worse than he already has. Trouble is, I’m not sure that I do, in fact, trust that.

“Hi, Sam.” Miles rounds the front counter to join me. “What brings you in?”

“Oh, just harassing my little sister. The usual.” He flashes his million-dollar smile at us. Right now, I really want to knock his teeth out. “You’re coming to Willa’s birthday party this weekend, right?”

That reminder just gives me another reason to be disgruntled. It’s one more thing Miles has agreed to instead of taking time for himself. As delighted as I am that Willa would invite him, and even more that he would accept, it’s supposed to be his day off.

At least I know Ava’s party planning will make it worthwhile, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“I’m planning on it. But she wrote on the back of my invitation No books . I feel called out.”

Miles grins at me, and my heart melts.

“She hasn’t forgotten your Christmas present,” Sam says. Then he winks at me. “Okay, we’re heading out.”

“It was nice to meet you, Georgia.” The man who may or may not actually be named Maverick raises his hand as he walks out the door.

“You, too.” I give him a feeble wave, and finally, they’re gone.

I need to eighty-six my brother from Dogeared. Banned for life.

“Is everything okay?” Miles asks. “You look a little shaken.”

“Everything’s fine. Sam just knows how to get under my skin. He’s like a tick.”

Miles’s soft laughter is a warm hug, ready to banish every last bit of discomfort brought on by Sam’s pushiness.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Willa’s party,” he says. “Obviously, I’m not the best at picking out presents for little girls.”

“ The Secret Garden was a really good choice. Willa’s just not as into books that don’t have fairies and unicorns in them right now.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Get her the biggest, fluffiest stuffed animal you can find, and she’ll love you forever.”

“Good tip. She also drew a stick figure in a party dress. Formal wear, I take it?”

I laugh. “Oh, yeah. You’d better be in a tux or no admittance.”

We work through the afternoon, and once my shift ends, I move to the closest cozy chair and get out my tablet to get started on a new cover. It’s another sports romance, which requires a lot of sketching football uniforms and padding to be sure I get the look exactly right.

I’m absorbed with trying to convey big without crossing over into bulky when the back of my neck prickles. I look up and find Miles watching me. A smile curls along his mouth, and he seems amused. Happy. Something…else.

“What?” I ask.

“I just like to see you relaxing in the store. Like you belong here.”

It’s a sweet compliment and especially reassuring since I’m here practically all the time. But the wobbly sensation that washes through me makes me want to argue a little. Just enough to keep from turning to complete mush over a few simple words.

“Then why do you keep trying to fire me?”

“I don’t try to fire you.” He walks around the counter and comes closer, ultimately leaning against the doorframe that leads into the back room.

I’m a fan of the lean.

“I simply encourage you to spread your wings and fly, little bird.”

I laugh. “Same thing.”

He shrugs against the door. “I don’t ever want to hold you back.”

“That is the sweetest, most misguided thing. This is where I want to be.”

He nods, gaze stuck on me. “We should talk about our date.”

A shiver skates down my spine. “What date?”

“The one we talked about the other day.”

“Oh. You mean our practice date?” The clarification is for me. As topsy-turvy as I’ve been this last week, it’d be too easy for me to think it’s anything else.

“Mmm. Do you want to go to dinner, or should I cook for us?”

That straightforward question makes me strangely giddy. It’s not the first time he’s asked me that, but the context is new. It’s not just hanging out as friends for the evening. It’s a date.

Practice date, I rush to add. Which I should probably repeat to myself a hundred times slowly.

“What would you do on a real date?” I don’t like how eager my voice sounds, and I try again. “Since I’m doing this to evaluate your skills.”

His mouth quirks. “That’s an interesting way to put it. ”

I look away. My face probably has flames dancing over it. “You know what I’m saying.”

“If it were a date with someone I’ve known for a while, I’d probably invite her to my place and cook dinner for her. Maybe watch a movie and keep it low-key.” Miles pauses, and I glance back at him. “But if it’s a date with someone I don’t know well, a public place would be better. Someplace neutral so she’ll feel comfortable and safe.”

I really want to go for the first option, but since this is supposed to be a “dating skills evaluation,” I need to opt for the second. I won’t get a feel for what he’s been doing on his set ups if we just hang out at his place and watch a movie on his couch.

Even if that’s basically my dream date now.

And I’ve lost my zeal for setting him up with anyone ever again.

“How about a restaurant? Maybe Thai?”

If he’s disappointed—which he’s not, obviously, why would he be?—he doesn’t show it. “Thai sounds great. Are you free on Saturday?”

“That soon?”

“I don’t see a need to wait.”

Everything he says lately threatens to turn me to goo. I’m sure in his mind there’s really no reason to delay—we’re buddies embarking on a practice date so I can help him find somebody else. Just because I’m suddenly conflicted about the possibility of us , doesn’t mean he’s feeling the same way.

Great. I think I just hurt my own feelings.

I smile anyway. “Saturday it is.”