pink as she re-fastened the buttons of her coat. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Jamie held her breath. It was the perfect opening for Rick to tell her how he felt. Come on, do it.
He cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”
Uh-oh.
“Quentin’s stopping by.” Lucy beamed as she unloaded a stack of books from the cart.
“Sweater Guy?” Rick said, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Oh, Rick. Jamie shook her head. Green-with-envy wasn’t his best color.
Lucy’s face fell. “It’s February, Rick. People wear sweaters. You have sweaters.”
“Yeah. But I make it look cool.” He flashed her another grin, showcasing his perfect boyish dimples. Sometimes Jamie forgot Rick had been known around Waterford as a lady killer, since any time he was within a one-mile radius of Lucy, he instantly became a lovesick mess. “So, um, do you like this Quentin guy? I mean, did you have that ‘wow’ moment you talk about?”
Lucy blinked, visibly taken aback. Clearly there’d been no wow. “I don’t know if I’d call it ‘wow.’ But he’s nice…and handsome.”
“Uh-huh. But no ‘wow.’”
“No. I haven’t had many of those.” Lucy’s flush was suddenly back. “Only one, actually.”
This was news to Jamie. As many times as she and Lucy had discussed her dating life, she’d never mentioned having an actual, bona fide wow moment.
Could it have been Rick? Possibly, given the way he and Lucy were suddenly regarding one another. Something unspoken passed between them. Jamie could sense it, even from her hiding place. It felt like magic.
Lucy broke the spell first, quickly averting her gaze and busying herself with stacking and re-stacking a pile of books.
Rick cleared his throat. “What happened with that guy?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened with that guy.” More stacking, more refusal to meet Rick’s gaze.
He had to be the guy.
“You two…um…never went out?” Rick asked.
Gosh, this whole interaction was painful to watch. Jamie had to stop herself from groaning out loud.
“Nope. I thought for sure that we would, but it never happened. Maybe our timing was just off.” Lucy stared down at the book in her hands. “Maybe it was all one-sided.”
“So where is he now?” Rick said.
Probably standing right in front of Lucy, asking obnoxious questions instead of telling her how he felt, Jamie thought.
Lucy finally met Rick’s gaze again. She took a deep breath, and the magic Jamie thought she’d sensed swirling between them earlier came roaring back. It shimmered around them, as real and tangible as the brick wall currently pressed against Jamie’s back.
She really needed to stop spying on people. And she would, just as soon as…
“Lucy! Hi,” a voice called out, putting an abrupt halt to her train of thought. A distinctly non-Rick voice.
“Quentin!” Lucy waved him over to where she and Rick stood.
Oh, no.
Quentin, once again wearing a sweater, nodded at Rick. “Hi.”
Rick nodded back, and just when Jamie thought the situation couldn’t get any more awkward, Quentin pulled a blush-colored long-stemmed rose out from behind his back and offered it to Lucy.
“For you,” he said.
Rick jammed his hands in his pockets and shifted from one foot to the other.
Lucy took the rose and held it up to her nose. Its bloom was full and vibrant, which meant it had most likely come from Anita’s Flowers. “Aw, that’s…” Her gaze flitted toward Rick before settling on Quentin. “Thank you.”
Rick’s shoulders sagged as he pointed in the direction of his bistro. “I’m gonna…”
Go make some risotto, Jamie mouthed. She would have bet money on it.
“Go make some risotto,” Rick said.
Winner winner, chicken dinner.
Chapter Ten
Jamie didn’t want to interrupt Lucy and Quentin, and she sure as heck didn’t want to engage in another conversation with Sawyer, so she headed back toward True Love Books.
But Sawyer had other ideas, because of course he did. These days, they were never, ever on the same page. He jogged toward her from his coffee cart. She pretended not to see him, but he wasn’t so easily dissuaded.
“No fair. You already know everyone in Waterford.” Sawyer fell in step next to her— which was fine, once she thought about it. So long as he was walking beside her, he couldn’t bribe any more business owners with his fancy beverages.
Then again, maybe he’d already blanketed the business district with hot cocoa and coffee, because as they strolled through the set-up area for the Fire and Ice Festival, a steady stream of vendors held up their Ridley cups to toast Sawyer as they grinned. Seriously? It was a wonder what kind of Ridley propaganda people would put up with in exchange