Shine and Shimmer (Glitter and Sparkle #2)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  But I’m going to try out this friend thing. I could certainly use one now that Lauren’s a little preoccupied these days.

  “I don’t hike too much,” he admits, but when my spirits fall, he grins. “But I bike.”

  “Really? Like mountain biking?” I ask, intrigued. I’ve never done much, myself. But I’d be willing to give it a try. “Take me sometime? I’ve already been here a week, and I’m starting to go a little stir crazy.”

  Our food arrives just when he’s about to answer. We thank the waitress, and when she’s off to the next table, he meets my eyes as he dumps entirely too much ketchup next to his fries. “Sure.”

  “Yeah?” I grin and snatch a fry from his basket.

  He reaches across the table, steals an onion ring, and holds it up before he takes a bite of it. “If these are so good, why do you need to steal my fries?”

  “Because I like both,” I answer, speaking of fries and onion rings, but I realize, as soon as I say the words, I might have a bigger problem. I like them both. Zeke and Linus.

  Linus doesn’t seem to notice the slight change in my mood. “It’s not like you have to choose. Have them both.”

  “Huh?” I say, startled, still preoccupied with where my mind has wandered.

  He raises a quizzical brow, probably wondering where he lost me. He waves toward the restaurant. “They’ll mix fries and onion rings if you ask them to; is says so right on the menu.”

  “Oh, right.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “But for now”—Linus scoots his basket closer—“I don’t mind sharing.”

  Eying him, I say, “You know, you’re a little too nice for your own good.”

  He leans forward, smiling as he boldly meets my gaze. “Or maybe I’m a little too nice for your own good?”

  I swallow, looking away first to snatch another fry. “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I take a deep breath as I step into the little bookstore across from the park. It smells like paperbacks, coffee, and everything wonderful in the world. A sweet, white-haired man in an argyle cardigan waves to me from the counter as I walk back to the fiction section.

  It’s not a large bookstore, small in comparison to the huge chain near my house, but it has the same feeling. There are plushy chairs scattered here and there, inviting people to read. The smell of coffee comes from a little stand with a pump-style carafe and a sign that says “Free” instead of from a fancy, expensive coffee counter.

  It only takes me a few moments to find the romance section. I run my hand over the covers, looking for something that looks interesting. My parents bought me an e-reader for my seventeenth birthday, but there’s nothing like the feel of a real book.

  I pick one out, and I’m browsing the cover when I notice Linus walk by the front window. He said he works at the game store next door. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fleetingly wonder if I’d run into him on my way here. He’s talking to a guy and a girl, both probably his age.

  Still holding the book, I wander a bit closer. They’re laughing together about something, and the girl touches his arm. I narrow my eyes, curious what that’s all about—not jealous, of course. Just curious.

  Casting several furtive glances their way, I hurry to the counter to pay for my book.

  “Would you like to sign up for our punch card?” The man asks as he slowly—and I mean slowly—rings up my book. “Buy ten paperbacks at full price, and you get one for free.”

  “I’m not from around here,” I answer, distracted.

  He nods but slides me the form anyway. “That’s all right; you can use it anytime you visit. I’d hate you to miss out.”

  I glance at him, about to tell him I’m fine, but he looks at me with an expression that reminds me of my Basset hound back home, Maggie.

  “All right, sure.” I smile and motion for him to hurry and hand me a pen.

  When I start filling out the form, he informs me of all the limitations and exclusions. Basically, only paperbacks that are three ninety-nine or less, and not already on sale, are eligible. Judging from the exorbitant nineteen dollars and eighty-seven cents I just paid for this one book, I doubt I’ll ever be getting a free one.

  “Would you like to buy a book bag?” he asks after I slide the form to him. He holds up a canvas tote. “Only five dollars.”

  I glance out the window. It looks like Linus is wrapping up his conversation, and for some unknown reason, I desperately want to make it out there before he leaves.

  “No. Thanks, though.”

  “Are you sure?” The bookseller then begins to list all the reasons why I should buy the bag—something about dolphins and puppies and trees and orphans.

  “Fine!” I say, rushed. I pull a five from my purse and slap it on the counter.

  “Can I interest you in a bookmark?” he calls as I rush toward the entrance.

  “Next time!” I holler over my shoulder.

  I push through the door, pasting a bright, carefree smile on my face, but Linus is already gone. Dejected, I let my canvas, world-saving bag sag at my side.

  “How much did he take you for?” someone who sounds a whole lot like Linus says from the storefront beside me.

  Startled, I turn. He’s there, standing at the door, halfway in. He smiles like seeing me is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

  My heart does a funny thump-thump that I don’t want to overthink.

  Holding up my purchase, I say, “Well, I bought a book bag I hadn’t intended on…and I signed up for the reward card.”

  “You’re lucky you walked out with less than half the store.” Linus grins and jabs a thumb toward the shop I just came out of. “Best businessman in town.”

  Anyone who looks like a sweet grandpa shouldn’t be a cutthroat businessman. It’s just wrong.

  “Would I be right in assuming you’re coming to visit the game store next?” Linus smirks.

  Matching his smile, I cock my hip to the side. “You would be wrong.”

  “I’ll win you over,” Linus promises. “Just give me time.”

  Something tells me we’re not talking about video games.

  I’m about to answer when he glances at his watch and says, “Well, I have to get going. Have a good evening, Riley.”

  Startled, I blink at him. “You too.”

  With a friendly smile, he walks back into the store. I’m left standing here, unsure what I was expecting. But just as the door is closing, he pops his head back through. “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

  Is he asking me on a date?

  I tap my book. “Well, I have some very important reading to do…”

  “I have this thing,” Linus says as he checks his watch. “Do you want to come?”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “A barbecue. It’ll be fun.”

  I nod, unsure if this is a good idea. I don’t want to give Linus the wrong impression. I like him, sure. But I’m not positive I’m ready to actually go out with him. We already had lunch, after all.

  “Think about it—I’ll be right back,” he promises as he darts into the store.

  Waiting for him, I stand on the sidewalk, shifting my weight, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. What if it’s a geeky thing? Something with those strange cards and dice? I remember the kids who would do that in high school, the ones who would gravitate toward the table in the corner of the lunch room.

  The moment Linus steps back through the door, I turn toward him, an excuse already forming. “I don’t think tonight—”

  “Come on,” he says, his tone easy. “It’ll be fun.”

  I set my hands on my hips, letting my bag and book smack my thigh. “This is a normal barbecue, right?”

  He knits his forehead, perplexed. “Normal?”

  “Yeah, you know—no weird stuff.”

  “You mean onions?” He grins.

  I look away. “I mean like no dragons or dungeons—”

&
nbsp; “You’re fun, Riley.” He cocks his head to the side, looking like he wants to laugh at me. “I guess you’ll just have to come and find out.”

  I study him for several moments. He only raises his eyebrows, patiently waiting for me to make my decision.

  “Fine,” I finally answer. “But I’m taking my car.”

  He nods, his eyes bright. “Just in case it gets weird?”

  I lightly smack him in the chest with my book bag. “That’s right.”

  ***

  In the truck in front of me, Linus pauses at a four-way stop. I use the moment to check my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I would have done something different with my hair if I’d known I was going to meet Linus’s friends tonight. Not that I care. I don’t.

  We’re on the east side of town, about fifteen minutes from the park. I follow Linus as he takes a right into a recreation area. There are banners up, and crepe paper and balloons blow in the breeze. I peer out my window as I pass through. It looks like there’s an event for the local Humane Society going on at the same time as Linus’s barbecue.

  We pull into the large, graveled parking area off to the left. I look around, wondering where Linus’s group is. A thirty-something woman in a T-shirt with a dog silhouette makes a beeline for Linus as soon as he steps out of his truck. She wears a huge grin, and her curled, bottle-blond hair is going every which way. She looks happy…but frazzled.

  “I’m so glad you could come, Linus,” she says, beaming at him. She goes on about someone named Stewart, and how he’s never allowed to man the grill again. “Burned off both his eyebrows,” she finishes. “But Sam just called from the ER, and they said the rest of the burns should heal fine.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Linus turns toward me and motions me over. “Christine, this is Riley.”

  I walk toward them, feeling a little out of place. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You like dogs, Riley?” Christine says as she pulls me into a side hug that takes me by surprise.

  “Yes—”

  “Oh, good!” She motions me toward a row of large kennels. “Go pick someone out and walk him around a bit. We’re hoping to get them all adopted this evening. Linus—to the grill.”

  Linus gives her a salute, winks at me, and then walks off.

  “Well, go on.” Christine shoos me toward the dogs. “Whichever one you like.”

  I nod, a bit disoriented. A whole gaggle of kids loiters by the cages, petting and playing with the few dogs who are still inside. Most are out with volunteers, socializing with the crowd. I glance in Linus’s direction. He’s laughing with another man and sliding on a bright red grilling apron that denotes him as a member of the cooking crew.

  He looks my way and grins, probably laughing at me for thinking he was taking me to some underground, geektastic event. I roll my eyes, bite back my own grin, and turn toward the dogs. They’re all cute. One’s little and floppy. His wiry hair falls into his eyes, making him look like a little fuzzy gremlin. Another is a Labrador mix. He’s black and bouncy, and his tongue lolls to the side.

  But the one who catches my attention is a husky. She’s soft and fluffy, and she watches me patiently as if she already knows I’m going to take her out of the cage.

  The nametag hanging from her kennel says her name is Sasha, and she’s three years old.

  I locate the leashes hanging from a peg on the first kennel. I coo at Sasha as I open the door. When I step in, she bounces toward me with bright blue eyes and a doggy smile. She’s incredibly soft, and she smells like she had a bath earlier today. I clip the latch onto her collar and lead her out.

  This is a cruel thing to do, expecting people to walk these dogs around and not fall in love with them. I’d take her home now if I weren’t afraid Marissa would have heart failure.

  Linus’s burgers and hot dogs are selling well, and all the money goes toward the shelter’s adoption programs. There are people at every one of the folding tables, filling out paperwork to bring a new pet home.

  A shy little girl watches Sasha as I walk her through the tables. She’s had her eyes on her the entire night. I stop in front of her table, and she stretches out a timid hand.

  “She’s a little nervous around dogs,” her Mom whispers.

  “We came for a cat,” the dad says, watching his daughter with hope in his eyes.

  Sasha waits patiently, practically vibrating with glee as the girl slowly inches her hand forward. Finally, she brushes the top of Sasha’s head. Soon, the dog is stretched out on the grass, and the little girl rubs her belly.

  An hour later, I watch the family load up their new dog into their SUV. Finished for the evening, Linus comes up next to me as I watch them leave.

  “This is torture.” I wave goodbye. “They have you walk them around, and you get all attached, and someone else takes them away.”

  “They’ll take care of her.” Linus crosses his arms, and I can tell by his voice he’s smiling. “You got her a family, Riley.”

  I refuse to look at him. “So…you volunteer at animal shelters, too?”

  The irony isn’t lost on me.

  He pulls the apron over his head. “My mom photographs the animals for their website. I come along sometimes, walk the dogs when they need it.”

  Finally, I turn toward him. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Thanks for coming.” Linus smiles, gives my shoulder a friendly squeeze, and then wanders off to help clean up.

  I stand here for several minutes, watching Linus help load dozens of empty kennels and cages into a van, and I realize I haven’t thought of Zeke all evening.

  Now I’m more conflicted than before.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The air conditioning system has gone down in the high school, and it’s sweltering hot in here. Luckily, I’m almost done for the day. I’ve made two successful batches of soap, and I’m on the third right now—that’s right, the third.

  The scale makes all the difference in the world. Everything has gone perfectly, though I haven’t tried anything too fancy yet. Swirls and layers will have to wait until I’m a little more confident.

  I did, however, get a bit creative with the ingredients. In my research, I learned that honey is great in cold process soap. It keeps your skin moisturized, and it gives soap even more lovely, sudsy bubbles.

  So, I added one little teaspoon to my first batch with a vanilla pound cake fragrance. It thickened perfectly, and it looks beautiful in its long loaf mold. I was even able to give the top a frosting-type texture using the back of a spoon. Then, feeling a bit like Lauren with her glitter infatuation, I sprinkled a good amount of shimmery gold mica all over it.

  It’s gorgeous, and I can’t wait to cut it tomorrow.

  I hot-processed the second two batches in an old slow cooker so I can sell them this Saturday. It only took a few minutes of research to find out what Linus was talking about, and he was right. Because of the heat that speeds up the saponification process, it’s safe to use the soap as soon as you slice it. It would be firmer if I waited six weeks to let it cure further, but I figure I just won’t charge as much.

  After scooping the last batch of soap into its mold, I step away from the counter and begin to remove my gloves. Then, groaning, I pull off my goggles. I’ve opened a window, but it’s still ridiculously hot in here.

  Before I start cleaning up, I wander to the window. One of the summer classes is out on the lawn, doing something with rockets. This is a younger group, probably this coming year’s freshmen. I let the breeze cool my clammy skin and watch them for a moment.

  A man about my dad’s age directs them, and he seems to be having as much fun as they are. Linus walks out the side door, making his way toward the group. I haven’t seen him since the barbecue, and confusing almost-flutters flitter about in my stomach.

  Linus joins the man, who gives him instructions, and they begin to help the students set off another round of rockets.

  What is this, exactly?

 
This doesn’t look like a makeup class; it’s more like an extracurricular summer activity. And Linus isn’t in it—he’s helping run it.

  Too hot and sticky to clean things up just yet, I decide to go watch.

  Linus glances up when he sees me, looking surprised, but I stay to the side, near the edge of the building in the shade, and watch. We didn’t do rockets in school. I guess I never took the right class.

  But this is actually pretty cool.

  Once everyone is finished, Linus wanders over to me. Like usual, he’s wearing cargo shorts, hiking sandals, and a T-shirt—this one reading, “Recreational Dragon Slayer.”

  “Nice shirt,” I tease.

  He grins like he’s truly pleased to see me. “What are you doing out here?”

  I point toward the window I was looking through. “I just finished up, and I needed some fresh air.”

  “It’s hot in there today,” he agrees. “That’s why we came outside.”

  “You’re not in summer school.” It sounds like an accusation.

  Linus steps next to me and leans against the cool brick wall, resting his shoulder just inches from mine. “I never said I was.”

  True.

  I motion toward the group. “What is all this?”

  “Mr. McAfee is my old science teacher. I offered to help him out with his Summer Science Explorers on my time off.”

  Of course, he did. He saves puppies and kittens, and he also volunteers his time aiding education groups.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Like he so likes to do, Linus gives me that teasing look that would be condescending if there weren’t a smile hidden behind it. “Because, Riley, science is fun.”

  “And you’re a nice guy like that,” I add.

  Tilting his head to look at me, he smiles. “That’s right.”

  My stomach flutters again, unsure of itself. Another sun-warmed, grass-scented breeze blows by us, and my eyes drop to Linus’s lips for one millisecond before I look away.

  Crud. I really do like him.