The Story Of Us - Teri Wilson Page 0,65

You have a window of opportunity, Ms. Vaughn. But it’s shrinking.” Dana pulled a manila envelope from her designer handbag. “This is our final offer.”

The envelope practically burned Jamie’s fingertips. She couldn’t even look at it.

“Your store is lovely.” Dana looked around again, smiling at the books and the flowers and the Valentines that decorated practically every surface. “I can see why you’re fighting for it. Perhaps you can use the money from the sale to recreate it elsewhere.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.” Jamie shook her head.

She couldn’t fathom trying to build True Love again from scratch. Part of what made it so special was its history.

“I know. And I am truly sorry.” Dana’s expression turned bittersweet, and for the first time, Jamie got the feeling that Dana really understood what True Love meant to her.

But it was too little, too late.

The day progressed at what felt like a snail’s pace for Sawyer. Somehow, he managed to get some actual work done, even though his thoughts were elsewhere entirely. While he picked up newly executed contracts at the hobby shop and Kagan’s Bikes, he kept sneaking glances toward True Love Books, anxious to get business over with so he could don his red sweater and take Jamie on a proper Valentine date.

She’d said yes! He could hardly believe it. Yes, there would be challenges ahead. And yes, at tomorrow’s meeting, one of them would win and the other would lose. But that was just business. Jamie was more important to him than his career. He realized that now. He’d let her go once, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. They could make it work—somehow, some way. He knew they could.

But after he’d emailed the signed contracts to Dana and stopped by Rick’s house to change into proper date night attire, he arrived at True Love Books to find the sales counter empty. In the café section, Lucy was busy firing up the espresso machine and placing pink-frosted cupcakes on antique china plates for customers, but Jamie wasn’t in her usual spot at the register.

Strange.

He shot a questioning glance at Eliot, Jamie’s orange tabby, but got nothing but a blithe meow in response. The cat then proceeded to groom his whiskers, ignoring Sawyer altogether.

Also strange.

Eliot was ordinarily extremely friendly and social. Sawyer almost got the feeling that the cat was irritated at him for some reason, but no. That was impossible. Cats were just finicky like that sometimes, weren’t they?

Even so, a flicker of worry snaked through him. Something felt off. He lingered for a moment at the Valentine’s Day display on the round center table, waiting for Jamie. A heart-shaped wreath of deep red roses stood at the base of the cherry blossom tree—Anita’s doing, most likely. In front of it were two baskets, one labelled Harrison and the other, Mary. A chalkboard message in a Tiffany blue frame told him to Take One (or another), so he chose a silver envelope from the Harrison pile. He flicked it nervously in his hand while he scanned the area, hoping for a glimpse of Jamie.

And then he saw her, perched on the edge of one of the white Queen Anne sofas in True Love’s cozy reading area. Except with her ramrod straight spine and dejected expression, she didn’t appear to feel cozy at all.

Sawyer’s gut tightened into a hard knot. He tucked the Harrison envelope into his pocket and strode toward her.

She looked up at him as he approached, and the sadness in her forget-me-not blue eyes just about killed him.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“Your boss, Dana Sutton, was just here.” That was when Sawyer noticed the flat manila envelope in Jamie’s lap.

“Oh.” He sat down beside her. “Did she say something?”

Obviously, she had. He just wished he had the benefit of knowing what it had been.

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Jamie gave him a tight, humorless smile. “It was just a timely reminder.”

“Of?”

“Of why you’re really here. To be your charming self and persuade everyone to sell.” Her voice went cold. “To persuade me to sell.”

She stood, gripping the envelope and stomping away from him.

He flew after her. “Jamie…”

What was happening?

Surely she didn’t think he’d been faking his feelings for her or that he’d asked her to dinner as some sort of bribe to accept the Ridley proposal. He wouldn’t dream of acting that way, and he thought—hoped—Jamie knew him well enough to know better than that.

He couldn’t stop dreaming about a future with her. Couldn’t she see that?

“You