This Book Made Me Think of You(15)
“What’s all this?” she asks, struggling to find her voice. “Shouldn’t we be leaving soon?”
Something smells delicious, the room filled with the aroma of butter and cheese. She steps behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, taking a breath of the familiar cedarwood of his cologne and the jasmine scent of their shared washing detergent as she snuggles her chin into his shoulder.
“I thought we could have a cozy evening in tonight instead,” he replies, placing the wooden spoon on the side of the pan and turning around so he is facing her, his hands on her hips. He has already changed out of his work suit and is in what Tilly always thinks of as his true uniform—shorts and a T-shirt that skims over the solid muscles of his chest, the bare skin of his forearms covered in surprisingly soft blond hair.
He reaches to cup her cheek in his palm, her skin tingling at his touch every bit as much as it did when they first started dating. “I know you’ve been working hard on the Kelly Maynard project, and this week has been full on with social stuff too. I called Leo and said we both had colds.”
“You, Joseph Carter, are voluntarily choosing a night in over throwing axes?”
Joe just shrugs. “If I really start feeling deprived, I can get out the toolbox and have a go throwing a couple of wrenches at a cutting board or something. And I’m not choosing a night in over throwing axes. I’m choosing a night in with you, which is better than pretty much anything.”
She nudges her hips against his.
“Even better than the crazy golf on Tuesday night with your workmates? Where you beat me catastrophically and did a victory dance?”
“OK, that was pretty great.” He grins, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression more serious. “I know we do a lot of stuff with my friends, and I’m sorry if it’s been too much lately. I just like showing you off. I like you knowing the people in my life. But I know you need your downtime too. And it’s nice to have you all to myself.”
She glances again at the rearranged furniture and piles of cushions. “Did you…build me a den?”
“It’s not just any den! Look!” He leads her to the makeshift fort and pulls aside the blanket door. Inside is a stack of books, a reading lamp standing in the corner.
“It’s a reading den. I know you’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately. I hope this might help.”
“Is that a cheese board?”
“For my little library mouse. To keep you going until dinner’s ready.”
“This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joe. Thank you.” She pulls him in by the front of his T-shirt for a kiss that starts soft and quickly grows heated, the thought of having him to herself for the night almost as delicious a prospect as whatever is simmering on the stove.
“Maybe we can find some other uses for the den later,” he says with a rough laugh, pulling away and planting a final kiss on her forehead. “But for now, relax and read. I’m making mac and cheese, does that sound OK? My mom’s was my ultimate comfort food as a kid. I’ve been craving it recently.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Tucked away behind her fortress of pillows, she feels shielded from the rest of the world, but it is the perfect type of aloneness, because just beyond the blankets, there he is.
* * *
—
Tilly puts down her bowl and fork now. A few minutes later, warm from the effort of moving the furniture by herself, she crawls into a makeshift den constructed from pillows and blankets to eat the rest of her dinner in there. Sometimes life calls for a pillow fort. And sometimes you just have to build that fort yourself.
March
Book Lane Recommends
Books to fall in love with
One Day, David Nicholls
Love Story, Lindsey Kelk
Here We Go Again, Alison Cochrun
Venetia, Georgette Heyer
Nine
Alfie spots Matilda Nightingale from the shop counter, her hands cupped around her pale face, her nose pressing up against the shop window. She sees him watching her and smiles, the smile doing something to Alfie’s stomach that he puts down to last night’s ready meal, which may or may not have been past its expiry date. From her spot curled up in an empty cardboard box on the floor, Georgette lifts her head, and Alfie could swear she gives him a wry look.
He unlocks the door, and there she is, wearing her usual rainbow scarf and tweed coat. And are those croissants hanging from her ears?
“Am I too early?” she says a little breathlessly, checking a green leather watch on her wrist. “I was hoping to pick up my next book on the way to work. But if you’re not open yet, I can come back later or tomorrow…”
“Don’t worry, I was just opening up,” he lies.
She follows him inside, and he heads immediately for the collection shelf. When he turns around, she is standing by the nonfiction section pulling a book out from the shelf and moving it to a more prominent position, cover facing out.
“Sorry,” she says, leaping back, the tips of her ears turning pink. He presses his lips tightly together, pushing back a smile.
“A big fan, are you?” he says, an eyebrow raising as he takes in the book she has rearranged. The cover shows the smiling image of pop star Aimee Rain. Her memoir has just come out in paperback. As he placed the order, he imagined his father cringing, and it makes him wonder, as he so often does, what he would make of the shop. But Alfie has personally never been a fan of snobbishness when it comes to books. His job is to stock the books that people want to buy—or at least as many of them as will fit into the modest space.