Chapter 9

Hannah

"Excuse me, miss? You wouldn't happen to be…"

I return the book to its spot on the shelf after reading the back cover and spin on my heel to be greeted by a smirking Beth.

"…one of my best friends, Hannah Cooper," she continues, looking right at me. "You bear a striking resemblance, but it's been so long since I've seen her, and technology is advancing at such a rapid pace these days, you could be a clone. Or an AI. Or both. I'm not fully sure what the difference is."

I pull her in for a hug. "Come 'ere, you. Hi."

"Howdy, stranger."

For such a snarky person, Beth gives the best hugs.

"What are you doing here on a workday?" she asks, then looks past me to the book I was looking at. "You never leave the shop."

True. Apart from when Chester broke a tooth at lunch and I had to take him to the dentist, I've never closed the flower shop before.

I smile proudly, rocking on my feet. "Hot girl summer rules. If it feels good, do it."

Beth's eyes sparkle. "Ooh. I like that. And is that what brings you into the romance section, by any chance?"

"No. You were busy helping a customer, and I was just…browsing."

That's a white lie.

I may or may not have been trying to see if a friends to lovers and marriage of convenience and only one bed romance novel exists.

For research purposes.

She cocks a brow. "Well, your timing is uncanny. Amiel just popped in, too."

I look up and down the romance section. "Where is she?"

Beth motions to the next aisle over. "She's made the bold leap into spicy romance."

"Ooh, fun." We start to make our way over to Amiel. "How come you don't like spicy romance?" I ask Beth.

"Personal preference, that's all. It's not a judgment on anyone who enjoys it. I just prefer avoiding certain scenes and language. It takes me out of the story."

"Fair enough."

"When it comes to reading, I live by the motto Don't yuck someone else's yum."

"I like that."

"As long as people don't come at me for reading clean romance, I'm good."

We stop walking.

"Wait. People do that?"

She shrugs. "Happens from time to time. Some readers expect nothing but support for their reading choices and preferences but don't extend that same support to others. Half the time I don't even think they realize they're doing it. But what can you do?"

"Be the bigger person?" I suggest.

Beth grins. "Exactly."

"Oh, hey, stranger," Amiel says when she spots us.

"Why are you both calling me stranger?" I ask once Amiel and I have hugged. "It's only been a few weeks since…"

Uh-oh. I shouldn't have said that.

Amiel's eyes widen in delight, Beth smirks, and between the two of them, there hasn't been this much eyebrow waggling in Comfort Bay since it was revealed Doyle's second cousin, Marla, was the culprit who went around in the middle of the night secretly planting zucchinis in people's gardens—don't ask me why she did it, we still don't know.

"Since a certain two-time winning Stanley Cup player crashed at your place for the summer?" Amiel offers.

"Uh, yeah."

"How are things going on that front?" Beth asks.

"Great. Good. I mean, fine." My keeping-up-appearances skills have gotten a little rusty. "We went to see the purple carpet last weekend."

They both erupt in giggles.

"You two are about as mature as Katie and Chester, and they're eighteen."

"Who needs filler or Botox when immaturity keeps me looking so young?" Beth quips, patting down her cheeks.

"And how was Fresno?" Amiel asks. "See, this is how long it's been since we've seen each other?"

"Fresno was…" I need to navigate this carefully and be sure not to mention our secret wedding. "Fun. We stayed at this totally retro '80s hotel. Went hiking. Played board games and ate terrible pizza."

I tell them about the waterbed situation and they both squeal in laughter so loudly, it catches the attention of a few nearby customers.

"I actually do have a question for you—for you both—but you have to promise not to get all romancey about it."

It's one of the many things I've been obsessing over lately, but this is one thing I feel like I can share with them.

Unlike the fake marriage.

Or the foot rubs.

And definitely not the kisses.

"Okay," they both say in unison.

They nod in unison, too, which is slightly alarming, but this is something I'm dying to know, and why consult a romance novel when I've got two romance novel junkies at my disposal?

"I've sort of somehow started wearing Culver's shirts."

They drop their gazes to what I'm currently wearing.

"Uh, babe. I can't picture Culver ever wearing a blouse," Beth responds dryly.

"I don't mean right now."

"And define sort of somehow?" Amiel asks, trying to conceal a growing smile. "Were you sleepwalking when you put his shirt on?"

"You guys aren't being helpful."

"Well, you said you didn't want us to get all romancey about it," Beth counters, smiling, too.

"That wasn't an open invitation to get all ha-ha funny about it, either. I'm serious. I've started wearing Culver's shirts around the house, first by accident, then because he said I could, and now I wear them almost every day."

"You'll have to fill in the lines with some color, babe."

So I do, telling them about the first time I put his shirt on for fun and how he caught me and then about Fresno when he offered for me to wear it.

Don't get me wrong. I'm perfectly clear about my feelings for Culver, but what I'm confused about is trying to figure out what it means that he wants me to wear his shirts. If it even means anything at all. Especially since that started while we were still non-kissing friends.

"So, what do you guys think?"

They look at each other, then Beth turns to me and places her hand on my shoulder. "There's no way for us to answer that without getting, as you put it, all romancey about it."

I nod. "I had a suspicion it meant something…romancey."

"Have things become awkward between you guys?" Amiel asks.

"No. Not at all. In fact, things are good. Really good."

Beth and Amiel exchange another look.

"Where's Culver now?" Beth asks.

"Away in LA for a few days. Training session."

"Okay, so you have a couple of days to yourself?" Beth checks, and I nod. "Looks like you have some thinking to do, babe. Because even though you may be in a friend place with Culver, maybe he isn't anymore? Maybe his feelings are changing?"

"A guy letting a girl—or wanting a girl—to wear his clothes is romantic, in real life or in a romance novel," Amiel supplies.

"At the same time, I wouldn't get too carried away," Beth says, her anti-love streak emerging. "We are only analyzing one isolated gesture, so we can't make the leap from that to him being head-over-heels in love with you. But it's likely, highly probable even, that it does mean something."

"Right." I blow out a breath and pace up and down the aisle a few times.

I came to the bookstore because I was searching for an answer. I hoped Beth would confirm my suspicion that this is a sign of Culver feeling something more for me, but now that she and Amiel have, I've got more questions than I did before.

I have a hunch that if I told them about the kissing, they'd only see it as further proof of Culver's feelings for me. But in my mind, the kissing is different from the shirt-wearing because the kissing was my idea. The shirt-wearing was his, and he suggested it before the kissing.

Which means…I don't know what it all means. That's what I can't piece together in my brain.

Are his feelings changing? Could Culver actually be starting to look at me as something more than just a friend?

Beth's right. Looks like I've got some thinking to do while he's away.