by Emma Hart
All three of them mimed licking their fingers and flipping the page of a book.
“And now thumbs, thanks to e-readers,” Saylor added brightly, mimicking the tapping of a thumb on the side of a device.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said dryly.
This conversation had gotten weird.
Like Colt had a few minutes before me, I finished my beer. “Well, this has been enlightening, ladies,” I drawled. “But I’m leaving. This is getting a little strange, even for you.”
They all laughed.
“Oh,” Kinsley said, looking at me. “Um, would you give me a ride home?”
I blinked at her. I opened my mouth to tell her no, but instead what came out was, “Sure. If you leave now.”
Like a pro, she downed the rest of her wine and put the empty glass down. “Thanks. Holley, I’ll text you when that shipment arrives tomorrow.”
“Should be by ten. Let me know if you need help with it.”
She waved her hand and slid out of the booth ahead of me. “I’ll be fine. Have fun.”
I bade them goodbye and beat Kins to the door, holding it open for her. “Are they staying?”
She nodded. “I left the store early tonight so I could get ready for my date, and they’re both supposed to be off tomorrow. Holley’s just panicking because we’re getting a big delivery of books and her inner control freak won’t let it go.”
“Inner control freak? I don’t think she’s containing it very well,” I said, letting go of the door.
She laughed, the same laugh she’d given Elliott earlier tonight. The laugh that had reared my little green monster. “I know, but nobody really wants to point it out to her. It’s just the way she is, but me and Say aren’t control freaks at all, so she keeps us on the straight and narrow.”
“Well, you’re the awkward introvert, so what’s Saylor? The rebel? Is she going to have a bright purple mohawk next time I see her?” I unlocked the truck and got the door for her again.
“Rebel is a little too far. Rebels don’t hide in libraries from bullies. They punch the bullies.” She hopped in.
“You’ve just been telling me about how dangerous books are. Don’t tell me you’ve never smacked a bully with a book before.” I closed the door and rounded the front of the truck and got in the other side. “Well?”
She mulled it over while I started the engine. “Once. It was seventh grade and Charlie Fisher was teasing me about being the only kid in the class who got full marks on the reading test that morning.”
“Really? Not even Holley and Saylor?”
“I don’t think I was in the same class as them that year. Anyway, I was trying to read and it was getting to the good bit. He wouldn’t leave me alone and actually kept tugging on my hair and touching my leg, so I whacked him. In the face. With my hardback.”
“Did you break his nose?”
“Does it matter?”
“For my personal safety, yes. Just trying to ascertain how far away I should be from you when you have a hardback book in your hands.” I glanced over at her and caught her smiling at me.
It was one that reached her blue eyes, making them shine.
Stupid fucking smile.
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Yep. I was hauled to the principal’s office, and when my mom showed up, she asked him what the hell he thought he was doing to a girl who was clearly defending herself against unwanted attention from a male student.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Woah.”
“Yeah. She basically talked him around in circles until he admitted he’d made a mistake, and as long as I knew that it wasn’t acceptable to hit people with books, he’d be calling Charlie’s father in immediately.”
“What did your mom say?”
“Nothing. I told him I understood it was unacceptable, but if he did it again, I’d hit him harder. He didn’t know what to say to it, so he sent me back to class with a sigh.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. That was such a Kinsley thing to do—behind her quiet, introverted exterior, there was a strong hardass who didn’t take any shit.
Which was probably why she struggled with dates so much.
“Is that why you hate dating?” I said as I pulled up outside her house.
“What? How is that even remotely related to this conversation?”
“You’re all soft and nice and quiet on the outside, but on the inside, you don’t take any crap from anyone.” I looked over at her, my hand still resting on the steering wheel.
She peered down at her hands in her lap. “I guess. Maybe people think I’m a pushover, and when they realize I’m not…”
“They realize you’re not the kind of woman they’re looking for.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know what goes on in people’s heads, and I’m definitely not going to change myself to fit someone’s idea of what makes their perfect partner. And that’s that.”
I stared at her. “I know. And when you find the person whose perfect partner is you, and he gets to have you, he’s going to be one lucky motherfucker.”
She jerked her head up. Her eyes met mine, and a mixture of uncertainty and shock danced in the blue of her irises. Her full lips parted just enough that she could draw in a sharp breath.
It felt like time had frozen. Here, in my truck, everything was completely still, and I was sure she could hear the way my heart was thundering against my chest.
“You mean that, don’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes never leaving mine. Her words didn’t cut the tension in the truck, either.
If anything, they heightened it.
I nodded. It was a tiny, jerky movement that I wasn’t even sure was noticeable.
Kinsley looked down once more, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.
Without another word, she left the truck, taking all the air with her. It rushed out into the darkness of the late evening, but not even the sound of the truck door slamming behind her cut through the tightness that had my stomach in knots.
I squeezed my eyes shut and hit the button to roll the window down. “Kinsley?”
I opened my eyes in time to see her peer over her shoulder, her features illuminated by the dim porch light over her head.
“What?”
“I’m not working for the next few days. Got some vacation days. If you do get a huge shipment, call me. I’ll come and help.”
“I can’t call you on your days off.”
“Yeah, you can, and please do. Otherwise, I’m just gonna have your brother riding my ass about the house five down from mine that he wants to buy.”
A smile slowly spread across her face. “Okay. If I need help, I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “Night, Josh.”
I didn’t reply, but I did wait until she was inside and I’d heard the faint click of her lock being turned, followed by the flooding of darkness as her porch light went out.
What in God’s name was I doing?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – KINSLEY
rule thirteen: you wouldn’t stop reading mid-chapter. don’t stop talking mid-conversation.
The next time Holley told me there was a big shipment coming in, I was going to come down with a violent stomach big.
This shipment wasn’t big. It was freaking huge.
There were boxes upon boxes in the back doorway of the store. I wasn’t even sure I could move amongst them, and the one box I’d managed to lift had weighed at least three sumo wrestlers and a school bus.
Yes, those were valid units of measurements.
Pound and ounces weren’t going to cover this.
I hadn’t wanted to call Josh. I really, really hadn’t, but I was left with no choice. There was no way I could move these boxes, unpack them, and open the store at midday.
I looked up at the sound of four rattling knocks against the front store door.
“It’s me.” Josh’s muffled vo
ice carried through to the storeroom door where I was standing and contemplating all my life choices thus far.
I crossed through the shop and grabbed the keys from the register so I could let him in. The key was large and clunky, and it took me a good thirty seconds to wrestle the old bolts loose before I could even unlock it properly.
Josh looked the door up and down when I opened it. “Is that door to keep people out, or keep bookworms in?”
“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” I answered breezily, stepping back to let him in. “But if the worldwide takeover by bookworms originates in Montana, you know the answer.”
He grinned, and it did stupid things to my stomach.
Stupid things I was going to steadfastly ignore today.
Trust me.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he mused through his smile. “Where are all these boxes again?”
“Out the back. Hold on.” I turned and locked the door, then reached for the top bolt.
“Ah, must secure Fort Bookworm.”
“You’re awfully cocky for a man who knows how dangerous I am with a book.” I raised an eyebrow and shot him a look. “Since we’re in a bookstore, you might wanna tone that down a little bit.”
“And you’re awfully cocky for a bookworm who needs my help to move said books.”
I slid the final bolt across and clicked my tongue. I straightened up and turned on my heel, pausing to pull a large hardback from the nearest shelf. Tucking it under my arm, I whistled a merry little tune and headed for the storeroom.
Josh’s laugh filled the entire store, sending an unwelcome tingle down my spine. I didn’t want to react to him the way I did because it was wrong.
Not to mention I hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said last night. What he’d meant by saying whoever got me was lucky.
I mean, I knew what he meant, but not what he meant.
He hadn’t just said it. He’d said it with feeling, with something I hadn’t been able to pinpoint.
Something I didn’t understand.
But now, I was wondering if Saylor was right.
Was there something happening between us? Something that had no business happening?
Were there feelings I couldn’t explain? He couldn’t explain?
We didn’t want to explain?
Because as nice as Elliott was, his laugh hadn’t sent any kind of tingles anywhere last night, and we’d laughed together a lot.
One little laugh from Josh this morning and it was like I’d dipped myself in a vat of damp popping candy.
“Holy shit. Is this a delivery, or are you setting up a second store we don’t know about?”
I sighed and set the heavy book down. “I know. I can’t move and organize all these by myself.”
“Jesus.” Josh shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair in the corner, revealing a form-fitting black t-shirt that clung to his toned body. I kind of really wanted to run my hands up his front just to see if there were as many dips and crevices as I imagined.
That was not helping the tingling.
“Where do we start?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “They all need logging and storing, but I don’t know which box is which.”
“Don’t you have a system to log them all?”
I grabbed the scanner from one of the shelves. “The software connects to the laptop at the front and logs it all, but I just don’t know which box to start with.”
He scanned the room. “Well, the room is huge so there’s no shortage of space. Are there packing slips in the boxes?”
“There should be, but they’re sometimes shoved to the bottom.”
“Haven’t you opened any of them yet?”
“I moved one box, realized I was out of my depth, and called you.”
“I expect to be fed for this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swedish-style multi-tool, then flipped out the knife.
“I’ll buy you lunch.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you often carry a pocket-sized toolbox around with you?
“Only if I know I might have to help out a needy bookworm with an abundance of boxes.”
“Funny.”
He sliced open three boxes and looked. “Right. The packing slips are on top. I suggest we go through them all, find the ones with packing slips, and set them to the side. That way we can work on the ones without the slips, log them, and then do the easy stuff after.”
I stared at him.
“Is that too organized for you, Ms. Bookworms Are Gonna Take Over The World?”
“No, but I’m considering which book to use to break your nose with,” I muttered, carrying the scanner across the room to where he was.
He grinned, moving one of the boxes. “You won’t break my nose.”
“I don’t know. I bet I could get a nice swing with an encyclopedia.”
“Yeah, but then you’d probably put your back out and need a trip to the ER yourself.”
“Well, at least we could share an ambulance. Split the cost.”
He looked at me, his lips twitching as if he were fighting the biggest laugh.
“What? I’m just being sensible. Those suckers are expensive.”
Out came the laugh.
I was right. It was a huge belly laugh that rocked his entire body, making his shoulders shake to the point he had to lean on a huge stack of the boxes to catch his breath.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I muttered, folding my arms to sulk.
“You just looked so serious,” he said after a moment, straightening up again. “Ouch, shit!”
I looked down at his hand. Red was pooling on his finger, and my eyes widened. “If you bleed on my books, I’ll kill you!”
He instantly stuck his finger in his mouth. “Gee, thanks for your concern,” he said around his finger.
“That’s karma.” I pointed my own finger at him and turned away.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the damn first aid kit, you baby. Sit down and be quiet a minute.”
I had no idea if he did as he was told right away because I’d already left the room. I knew we had a kit under the sink in the staff room, and a quick peek behind the cleaning tub proved me correct. I grabbed it and the roll of paper towels.
I took the little white box back through to the storeroom. Josh was perched on the windowsill, his finger still shoved in his mouth.
“Ugh, stop licking your own blood. You’re not a vampire.” I shoved a wad of the paper towels at him.
He took them, putting them over his cut instead of his mouth. “Vampires don’t drink their own blood.”
“Whatever. Just stop. It’s gross.” I rifled through the box for some Band-Aids.
“It’s really not bleeding that badly,” he said as I took them over and laid them out on the nearest box. I had a selection of sizes so I could pick the best one.
“Whatever. Let me see it.”
He didn’t.
I grabbed his wrist and flipped his hand over, then slapped his other hand away. The paper towel was already coated in blood, and although it didn’t look particularly deep, it was almost the length of half his finger.
With a sigh, I told him to hold the paper towels there again and went back to the first aid kit.
We were gonna need a bigger Band-Aid.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have that, but I did have absorbent gauze and medical tape. That would do for now.
It was more sanitary than paper towels, anyway, and I still needed these boxes moving.
“Trust you to cut yourself right before we’ve even got anything done,” I said, quickly replacing the paper towel with the pad. “Hold that there.”
“I didn’t mean to cut myself,” he replied. “It’s your fault for making me laugh.”
“I’ll remember to add ‘being funny’ as a toxic trait on my dating profiles,” I drawled, tearing off some of the tape. “Thank you for the information.”
“You know I didn’t mean
it like that.”
“I know, but you should feel bad for blaming me. You were the one laughing at something that wasn’t all that funny.” I finished wrapping his finger. “There. If you bleed through, tell me. Holley will murder you if you get blood on the books.”
“Is that how you’re going to take over the world?”
“I’ve already told you that I can’t tell you.”
“You’ll never take over the world. You’ve got to read one more chapter first.”
That was annoyingly correct. “Oh, shut up,” I muttered, gathering up the Band-Aids we didn’t need.
Josh pushed off the windowsill, bumping into me right as I turned. We both froze, and I stared a hole in his chest as I desperately tried not to let my breathing go out of control.
He was right there.
I think my nose was touching his shirt.
Which was touching his chest.
Oh, God. It was. I was touching his chest. With my nose.
So why the hell wasn’t I moving?
Because I was an idiot. That was the only answer.
I wobbled a little, unsteady thanks to our closeness, but it had the opposite effect on Josh. He gripped my upper arms so I wouldn’t wobble anymore because, let’s face it, I was liable to fall on my ass in the mood I was in.
“Any reason you’re sniffing my shirt?” A hint of amusement tinged his tone.
“Smells like lavender. And coffee. And hot buttered toast.”
Oh, crap! That wasn’t supposed to come out!
I cleared my throat and jerked back, making his hands fall to his sides. “No. No reason at all. Gotta—gotta put this away.”
I shoved the Band-Aids in the medical box in a way that would get my ass whipped next time Holley opened it and walked out of the storeroom a little too quickly.
This was going terribly.
Why, why, why was my mouth so stupid? Why had I said all that? Was there something missing between my mouth and my brain today?
I should have let him bleed on the books and let Holley murder me instead.
This.
This shit right here was why I was single.
I took a deep, steadying breath and headed back out to the storeroom. I couldn’t hang about in the staff room because I knew he’d come looking for me, and that would make this already awkward situation one even worse.
