Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
There had to be things he’d rather do, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn him down. The fact that he’d made plans based on what I wanted further confused my already mixed-up feelings. I told myself I should work on keeping more distance between us. My heart wasn’t going to survive him treating me like a guest instead of an employee.
We walked along Decatur Street for a few blocks, then he stopped in front of a rundown-looking building that was probably well over a hundred years old. The sign on the door said Lefebre Books. The window display contained stacks of old books with antiquated-sounding titles like Miss Beaton’s Book of Household Management and Toilers in London: Or, Inquiries Concerning Female Labour in the Metropolis along with Mardi Gras beads, masks, and other things tourists would associate with New Orleans.
Through the window, I also saw shelves stuffed full of books and more piles of books stacked on the floor by upholstered armchairs and antique wooden chairs. It looked like a place where you could find a secret entrance to a magical world. This was New Orleans after all. Surely if magic existed anywhere, it was here.
“This is one of my favorite places in the city,” Remington said.
I stared at him, surprised once again.
“Just like you, I’m not a simple man.”
“I know that. I’d already guessed it, but then I looked around your house yesterday.” I paused, suddenly nervous. He’d told me it was fine, but what if…
“Did you find anything interesting?”
“Your books.” I wanted to mention the cello, but I just couldn’t. The music room seemed like a private space. “And the cozy chair in the little sunroom. I wanted to curl up in it.
“You’re welcome to. When we get back, maybe we both will. Find something you like, and I’ll read it to you.
My heart pounded as he opened the door and we both stepped inside.
15
Remington
I’d seen Henri gazing at the books on my shelves as I’d gotten dressed for our outing. He studied their titles and ran his fingers longingly over their spines, so I’d suspected he would enjoy the bookstore as much as I did. Watching him move through the labyrinth of shelves with a smile on his face let me know I’d been right, and the joy I found in sharing one of my favorite places with him also let me know the way I’d felt the night before hadn’t just been because of an incredible orgasm courtesy of his welcoming body.
I was far more deeply connected to him than I’d intended to be. What if he truly was that special person for me? How could I possibly take the time for a relationship when so many people were relying on me, when I had to be so careful to show my strength, when I knew that anyone who was with me would constantly be in danger?
If I cared about Henri, wouldn’t it be best for me to let him go? I could make sure he was taken care of by helping him find a job where he would be safe. That sounded all right until I thought of him finding someone else, someone who would care about him, someone who would love his sweet smile and want his delectable body.
“What’s wrong?” Henri asked.
I realized I was scowling and my hands were balled into fists. I tried to shake off the rage that had risen in me at the thought of Henri with someone else. “Nothing. I was thinking about work.”
“You shouldn’t do that on your day off, especially if it makes you feel so angry.”
“Then take my mind off it. Tell me something you’d like to search for, and we’ll see what we can find. If we’re going to curl up and read together, you’re going to need to choose a book.”
“I love books, but it’s been a while since I’ve had much time to read.”
There had to be a story behind that, maybe the same one that had led him to his current profession, but this wasn’t the time for me to encourage him to tell it. I could have gotten information like that from Blackjack, but for some reason, it felt wrong to invade Henri’s privacy. I’d asked Blackjack only to verify Henri wasn’t a spy or an ally of the Landrys.
“When you do have time to read, what do you like? Mysteries, fantasy, romance?
“I like history and historical fiction like you seem to. I used to enjoy thrillers that made my heart pound and kept me up turning page after page, but then my life got kind of scary and that seemed like too much.”
That was likely part of his story too. “Lefebre’s has an excellent selection of historical books, both those written in the past and those written about it. They’re on the second floor. Come on.”