Chapter 2 First Impressions

For a long time, Lena hadn't actually anticipated that Ryan would come back. Yet here he was, three days later, at the doorway of her bookstore, a brand-new copy of Leaves of Grass in one hand and a paper bag in the other. The afternoon sun haloed his unfairly tousled hair, and Lena cursed herself for noticing. "You came back," she said. Voice flat. She wiped her dusty hands on her apron and pretended not to care.

Ryan held up the book like a peace offering. "Replacement. And I brought bribes." He shook the bag, releasing the buttery scent of croissants.

Lena's stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl. "Bribes won't fix the water stain on my 1913 Yeats."

"Then how about manual labor?" He nodded toward the poetry section, where the ladder still leaned against the shelves from his last disaster. "I owe you a reorganization."

She hesitated. But the croissants smelled like heaven, and the determined glint in Ryan's eyes was... intriguing. "Fine. But no more casualties."

Ryan grinned and strode inside, making the cluttered little shop seem larger somehow. He set the pastries up on the counter and rolled up his sleeves again-Lena refused to stare at the way his forearms flexed as he reached for the ladder.

"So," he said, climbing to the top shelf, "why a bookstore?"

Lena busied herself in straightening the cash register. "Why not?"

"Most people don't dedicate their lives to things that are actively dying." He said it lightly, but the words pricked.

She shot him a glare. "Books aren't dying. They're just... evolving."

"Spoken like a true believer." He slid a collection of Frost into place. "But you didn't answer my question."

Lena exhaled. "My grandmother owned this shop. I grew up here." She traced a finger over the counter's chipped edge, where she'd once carved her initials at age seven. "After she passed, I couldn't let it go." Ryan paused, his expression softening. "That's... really beautiful."

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Your turn. Why architecture?"

For a split second, his smile faltered. "My dad was a contractor. He used to take me to job sites, let me sketch the houses while he worked." A shadow crossed his face. "After he died, I kept drawing. It felt like... keeping him alive, I guess."

Lena's chest tightened. She hadn't expected vulnerability-not from a man who'd barged in like a wrecking ball. Before she could respond, the shop phone rang. She grabbed it out of reflex, grateful for the distraction. "Whispers & Pages, this is Lena-"

" Lena!" her best friend Sophie screeched through the receiver. " You won't believe who just walked into the café next door; Tom. With her."

Lena's blood turned to ice. Tom. Her ex, who'd left her two years ago for his grad school TA. He'd called her an "emotionally stunted" person when she refused to move across the country with him.

She swallowed hard. "I'm working, Soph. I don't care."

"That's bullshit. Get over here. You need to show him you're thriving-'

Ryan's voice interrupted. "Tell her you're busy." He'd come down the ladder and stood close enough that Lena caught the cedar-and-coffee scent of him. His eyes locked onto hers, daring. "Unless you want to see him?"

Lena's pulse spiked. She hated that Ryan had overheard. Hated that he had read her so easily.

Sophie gasped. "Who was that?"

Ryan plucked the phone from Lena's numb fingers. "Hi, Sophie. Lena's got plans tonight. Perhaps another time." He disconnected. Lena gaped at him. "You-what-"

"Go out with me."

The words hung between them electric.

Lena's breath caught. "What?"

Ryan moved in close, his voice low. "Dinner. Tonight. Let him see you laughing with someone who actually deserves you."

It was a terrible idea. Reckless. But the heat in Ryan's gaze made her fingertips tingle. For the first time in years, Lena, however, threw caution to the winds.

"One dinner" she said "No guarantees".

Ryan's slow smile could've melted glaciers.