Hope Between the Pages by Pepper Basham (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📕

He wanted her to stay? She glanced back at the television and pressed a hand to her stomach to curb the sudden butterflies. “As long as the show isn’t scary, then I’m all for tea, cake, and…” Her smile trembled into place. “A friend.”

Clara whimpered as the credits rolled, and she pushed herself to the edge of the couch, pillow still pressed to her chest. “I can’t believe you lied to me!”

Max turned in his chair, remote in hand, his eyes as wide as silver dollars. “Lied to you?”

“‘This show isn’t scary. It’s intense.’” She made air quotes as she mimicked his accent. “‘You’ll love it.’”

“You thought it was scary?” He gave a very poor attempt at looking sorry, especially with his lips taking a crooked tilt.

“I didn’t just think it. It was. That last scene had me trying to bury myself into your couch to get away.”

“You were rather adorable, trying to hide your entire body behind that pillow.”

She took the aforementioned pillow and slung it toward him. “You’re…you’re a stinker.”

Some strangled sound came from him. “Stinker, is it?”

She wrestled with a growing urge to laugh. The way he said the word stinker sounded very unstinker-like. “Yes, royally.”

“Royal stinker?” He chuckled and tucked the thrown pillow to his side. “I assure you, I bathe regularly and have no legitimate right to the throne.”

“They hid the body in the walls! How can that not be scary?” She threw another pillow, and this time the most amazing thing happened.

The strangled sound erupted into…laughter. Deep and rich, rumbling like welcome thunder on a hot summer day, filling the room and almost making her future nightmares worth it. Almost. “You laugh, Mister It’s-Excellent-Storytelling, but I’m the one who has to walk through that shadowed garden at night to get back to the big house, so you should at least feel a little sorry.”

She stood and tossed one more pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the nose…and producing another bout of laughter.

He snatched the pillow as he stood and tossed it back on the couch. “That’s enough pelting with pillows, Miss Blackwell.”

Her face wasn’t cooperating at all, because instead of the glare she wanted to send him, she had to bite back another smile. This gradual thawing of the reclusive Maxwell Weston came with some excellent side effects. His charm being one. His laughter, another.

“You deserved it, you know.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Who knows what sorts of dreams I’ll have tonight about stab wounds and home invasions.”

“Fear not, fair maiden.” He offered her his arm, his lips still twitching with the aftershocks of his amusement. “I shall escort you all the way to the main house.”

She sent him her finest glare, which really wasn’t particularly potent if she couldn’t keep herself from smiling, and then pulled on her cardigan.

“And I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His expression sobered as he led the way to the door. “I only thought you’d enjoy it from a story perspective.”

As they emerged into the darkness, his brow raised in silent entreaty, she linked her arm through his with an exaggerated sigh, and he tucked her warm by his side. The brisk night air breathed with the scent of pine and burning fire, and the sky twinkled with stars dotting the inky vastness. Cheerful lights emanated from the tall windows of Camden House, shining into the garden with such brilliance, Clara felt a little foolish in being afraid to walk alone.

“The story was very good,” she admitted, raising her gaze back to his. “And wonderful character development.”

“Even the villain?” One of his brows tipped with his grin.

“Even the villain.” She shuddered. “Nasty as he was.”

Lights from the library illuminated the vastness of the shelves packed with hundreds of neglected books. It seemed such a waste of good stories, with or without excellent villains.

“What are you thinking so far away?”

Max’s voice pulled her smile and she slowed her pace. “All those stories waiting to be read.”

He followed her gaze to the library windows, now towering above them as they neared the portico. “Yes, I’ve thought about that too. Mother’s considered donating them to some university or other, but that hasn’t felt right, if you know what I mean.”

She drew in another breath of wintery night and cardamom. “Maybe we can think of something special together, since we both love books.”

They came to stop at the house door, her feet reluctant to enter. Though watching a crime drama probably wasn’t considered a date, it was easily the most enjoyable two hours she’d ever had with a man outside her family. Actually, almost all of her time with Max fit that description.

“Thank you for walking with me.” She took the house key from her pocket. “Maybe being escorted by a wizard vanquishes nightmares.”

A smile waited in his eyes as he edged closer. “I promise to banish all the shadows from your vicinity, Miss Blackwell.” His brows gave a little shimmy. “After all, not everyone knows my secret.”

“Well, Mr. Wizard…” She grinned and pressed a finger into his chest. “Next time, I get to pick the movie.”

Heat fled her body as she realized she’d just invited herself to his place. “I mean—”

“Only if it’s for dinner as well?”

She looked up. His gaze held hers, as uncertain as she felt, like they both were dangling hope in front of the other. Her voice refused to comply.

“Tomorrow, perhaps?”

The entreaty in his voice, his expression, spurred her into action. “Yes, I’d love that.”

His smile burst free and her pulse responded with a sudden explosion. “Seven?”

She nodded, slipping the key in the door. “Thank you for…for tonight.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets and stepped back. “My pleasure, Clara. Truly.”

His simple burr of her name spilled all through her with definite magical qualities. “Good night, Max.”

Chapter 17

Mrs. Helen Camden cooed over me as if I were a doll being prepared as a Christmas gift. As much as I had worried about Oliver’s