Cinnamon Roll Set Up (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

33. Miles

Chapter 33

Miles

When I gave Georgia the green light to throw a signing party for me at Dogeared, I did not expect her to print out so many pictures of my face. Posters featuring my author photo stare down at me from the walls. She plastered it on flyers she spread through town and on the bookshop’s website. She even printed out bookmarks with my face on them.

She’s extra. But it only makes me love her that much more.

I’ve been signing books for a while now, chatting briefly with everyone who comes by to meet me. It’s still disorienting, to be honest. I kind of like being the anonymous guy nobody notices. But Georgia won’t stand for that where my writing career is concerned.

I mentioned I love her, right?

I recognize a lot of the people filing through the bookshop, like the bulk of Georgia’s adoptive extended family. Sam and Harper already congratulated me, both on the books and on winning over Georgia. Dean and Booker got their copies signed, and Eden finalized the plans for the meet and greet I’ll do at the library in a few weeks right before Christmas. Even members of the family who admitted to me they don’t read much came out to support me.

Mom and Cece are here, along with my cousins. I hadn’t expected them to drive in from Houston just for this, but it’s a nice surprise.

Plenty of people I don’t know wander through, too. Georgia posted about the signing on Dogeared’s website and several other book group pages across Texas. We even posted it on my Instagram, which has slowly gained traction over the last month.

I can’t pretend to enjoy having this much attention fixed on me, but I evened it out by pledging a percentage of tonight’s sales to go toward the Cortez girl’s recovery fund. As busy as Arlo and Bailey are up front, it looks like that should be a pretty good amount.

Owen and Josie walk up hand in hand, and they each put a set of my books in front of me.

“I figured I should have my own copies,” he says with a shrug.

“And mine are for my dad,” Josie says. “He’s a big fan of this kind of space cowboy stuff.”

“Space cowboys. I like that.” Owen’s devious smile tells me I’ll be hearing that term during sparring for the foreseeable future.

Georgia’s grandfather, Glen, is a few customers behind them in line. He slides my books across the table to me. “Make them out to ‘Grandpa, who knew all along.’”

He winks and hands me a pen.

I guess my secret pining wasn’t quite the secret I thought it was.

“It’s a good turnout tonight, son.”

I suspect he talks that way to everyone, but I like having him call me “son.”

“It’s all thanks to Georgia. ”

He nods and takes the books. “Most things are.”

I watch her talking animatedly with someone across the room. Naturally, she’s wearing a sweater embroidered with books. She catches my gaze, and the heated look she sends my way is enough to make me want to flip the table and declare an end to book signing for the night.

I don’t, only because that would ruin all her hard work.

One person I don’t expect to see in line is Georgia’s dad. He and Ava have my books with them, but he’s also got a few rom-coms Georgia illustrated tucked under one arm. He catches my curious look.

“They’re for Ava,” he says quickly. But he holds one out to admire. “Nice cover though, isn’t it?”

He sounds like he’s not quite sure, but he’s made up his mind because Georgia had a hand in it. I like the progress.

“Beautiful cover,” I confirm.

Willa splays a hand on the table in front of me. “We get to pick out books for us. Mama said we can’t read your books yet because they’re boring.”

Ava puts a gentle hand on Willa’s shoulder, laughing as though she’d rather put that hand over her mouth. “I didn’t say they’re boring, darling. I said they’re not for children.”

Willa nods. “Because they’re boring.”

Probably not the phrase you want repeating through the room at your book signing, but I adore her too much to ask her to stop.

“Which book are you getting instead?” I ask.

She slams down a brightly colored book with a delicate fairy on the cover. “Her name is Sparkle Gardenhome.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I’m getting this one.” Finn shows me a middle grade sci-fi about a field trip to Mars gone wrong.

“Good choice.”

“But Dad says maybe I can read yours after he does and sees what it’s all about.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

After the line dwindles away and guests have all checked out, Georgia and I linger in the bookshop. We often spend a little extra time in the store after closing, when the lights are low and we can just enjoy being surrounded by books.

Also, one of the cozy chairs is positioned exactly right among the shelves to be hidden from any windows. Georgia calls it the Make-out Chair. It’s my favorite place in the store. We wander through the stacks, and I sit in the secret chair, pulling her down to sit in my lap.

“Can we burn those posters of my face now?”

She giggles, getting comfortable against me. “Absolutely not. They’re going in my bedroom.”

“I’ll never be able to set foot in there again.”

She side-eyes me. “Seems doubtful.”

We both know not even the prospect of seeing my own giant face would keep me out now that I’ve been invited in.

“Thank you for tonight,” I tell her. “It went better than I’d dreamed.”

“You need to dream bigger. This was just the beginning.”

I press a kiss to her neck. “I have some big dreams.”

“Oh, really?” She burrows closer, tilting her head away so I have more access to her soft skin. “Like what?”

“Like…you and me…” I kiss up her neck and nibble on the shell of her ear.

“I love it so far,” she breathes.

“All alone…” I taste along her jawline.

“Please go on.”

“A weekend away.”

That makes her stop and turn. “Really? A weekend away?”

“I’ve got a place in mind. A cabin in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for stargazing. And…other things.” Sam told me about the remote lodge, and I’ve been eager to take Georgia there ever since.

I won’t mention the outhouse and outdoor shower until it’s absolutely necessary.

Probably also shouldn’t mention her brother goes there with his wife.

Maybe I should find a new place.

“But you don’t take time off.” She’s not reprimanding me, just stating fact.

“I know. But it’s time to change things.” With Bailey taking on most of the morning baking, I’m freed up to focus more time on my writing. She and Arlo work so well together, I don’t need to be in the bookshop at all hours anymore. “Someone told me once I need to be careful not to burn out.”

“You should definitely do everything that wise woman says.” Georgia grins, and her gaze drops to my mouth. “And, you know. You could burn just a little bit. For her.”

“Believe me, I do.”

I kiss her, slow and perfect, tasting a hint of spice on her mouth. This woman is everything I want, everything I could have hoped for. Everything I need.

“I have other dreams,” I say softly.

“Tell me.”

“You, working full time at illustrating. Pursuing your dreams.”

She draws back and spins so she’s straddling me. But she doesn’t have a come hither look on her face. It’s more…come at me, bro.

“You know what? I think I need a more secure position at Dogeared. Something where I can’t possibly be fired by you.”

I love the spark of flame in her, even when it’s directed at me.

Or maybe I especially love when it’s directed at me.

“I didn’t mention firing.” I figured she would put in notice on her own one day. With a very politely worded letter I would keep in a drawer forever.

“It’s implied.”

“What kind of secure position do you have in mind?”

“A partnership. On a more official basis.”

“I’m willing to make anything official that you want.” And I mean that literally, but it’s probably too early to say it straight out.

A smile touches her mouth, and she starts to lean closer, but stops herself. “I’m serious. I want to be partners with you in Dogeared. I want to keep making plans for the bookshop and finding fun ways to make it better and help it grow.”

I slide my hands over her waist. “What about your art?”

“I like doing both. I’ll keep making covers for as long as that lasts. One day, maybe I’ll branch out into other things. But I don’t want to make art one hundred percent of the time.” She runs her hands under the inside edges of my sport coat, sliding them along my chest. One hand pauses over my pounding heart. “I don’t want to turn my art into my job and wind up resenting it. I want to do enough to keep it new and interesting and keep on loving it, but not so much I burn out.”

“That’s smart. I accept your offer. We should be partners.”

“You can’t just accept my offer. I have to buy you out or something.”

“Well.” I drop my voice low. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

“That’s naughty. You’re naughty.” Her grin somewhat dampens her scolding.

“I didn’t specify anything. We’ll sort it all out. I just want to be sure that this is what you want.”

“It is. As long as you need me, I’m staying. ”

I tug her closer. “Then you’re going to be here for a very long time.”

She melts against me, kissing me with every ounce of her bright enthusiasm. Then she jolts back. “We need to shake on it and be professional for a change.”

I shake her offered hand. Very professional.

And then we stay in the bookshop for a long time, being very unprofessional.