“Well,” a familiar voice says. “This feels dangerous.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Because there he is.
David freaking Mars.
Standing in the doorway of my bookstore like he absolutely belongs nowhere near it—and yet somehow makes the whole place feel different just by being inside.
Dark jeans. Fitted T-shirt. Sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Tattoos visible.
He looks less polished than he did at the shower.
And it totally works for him.
Which is frankly unfair.
“What are you doing here?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Smooth, Hilary. Very smooth.
He shuts the door behind him.
“Thought I’d see the place you built.”
My pulse jumps.
“That’s it?”
He scans the shelves slowly.
“I also need a break from staring at my phone.”
That sounds heavier than it should.
“Oh.” I cross my arms, defensive mode engaged. “Work crisis?”
“Opportunity,” he says. “Which is kind of the problem.”
I frown, curious despite myself.
“What kind of opportunity?”
He walks deeper into the store, trailing his fingers along the spine of a hardcover like he’s cataloging the place.
“Major League Rugby Championship wants me to produce this year’s theme.”
I blink.
“Like the Championship cup?”
“Yeah.”
“You a fan of rugby or something?”
“Yeah, actually. I have a friend who’s married to the head coach for the Carolina Rovers. I’ve been following them the last year,” I reply with a shrug.