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Why books?”Her brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”“Why are they your vice?”She set her plate down and wiped her hand on her skirts before reaching for the top volume on a stack of small, leather bound books nearby and extending it to him. “Go on.”He took it. “Now what?”“Smell it.” He tilted his head. She couldn’t help but smile. “Do it.”He lifted it to his nose. Inhaled.“Not like that,” she said. “Really give it a smell.”He raised one brow but did as he was told. “What do you smell?” Sophie asked.“Leather and ink?”She shook her head. “Happiness. That’s what books smells like. Happiness. That’s why I always wanted to have a book shop. What better life than to trade in happiness?
