by Casey Dawes
Close up, she’d been even more enticing than he’d thought. Her pixie face was fresh and natural. Brown-flecked green eyes had peered out from under thick, dark lashes. Dark pink lips, with a little bit of a pout. What would it be like to touch her, feel those lips against his? He’d wanted to shut down the register, whisk her away to a dark corner and find out.
He shook the fantasy from his head. It would have to wait. First, he had to make this business viable. Second, find a house to live in. Once he’d accomplished those two tasks, he could discover what kissing her would be like. He turned on his computer.
An hour later, he called downstairs on the interoffice phone. “Can I have the invoices from last month?”
“What’s up, John?” Sunshine asked when she sauntered into the office. “You’ve got this silly smile on your face.”
He frowned at the soft face of the older woman, pretending he was giving her a stern lecture. “Ah, Santa Cruz. The place where employees have permission to tell the boss whatever’s on their minds.” With her graying hair in a long braid and feathered earrings, she was living proof that the 1960s counter-culture was alive and well on the Central Coast of California.
Sunshine shrugged. “We were raised to ‘Question Authority.’ You’re authority and I’m questioning. Is there a problem?”
He laughed. His bookstore manager was incorrigible.
She laid a folder of invoices on his desk. “What’s her name?” she said over her shoulder before she clattered down the stairs to the main floor.
“Bring me the sales report from last month too, please,” he called after her.
“Yes, boss.” The answer floated up the stairs.
He thumbed through the invoices. If sales didn’t improve soon, he’d have to cut back on book orders. He tapped his pen on the desk. Cutting back on books meant cutting down on service and he didn’t want to do that. Maybe he should rethink his marketing budget instead. He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.
“You must be thinking about her again,” Sunshine said, back in his office with another folder. “Here’s the sales report you wanted.” She put the papers on his desk and eyed him. “Or maybe you’re trying to pretend it’s not as bad as I know it is.”
He looked up at her. “Sometimes you’re too smart.”
“Don’t get concerned. The store always hits a slump at this time of year. Students study for exams and the tourists haven’t arrived. We’ll be okay.” She patted his shoulder. “We’ve got loyal customers.”
“Umm, do we have a list of our loyal customers?”
“Sure do, boss. I’ll be happy to get you one if you promise to tell me her name.”
“Not on your life.”
“Gotcha!” She whistled and headed down the stairs.
John shook his head. He’d have to work to keep his private life safe from Sunshine.
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