lunch.”
“True. And cheesecake. Hand it over.” I waved my hand, and she passed me the box of cherry-covered deliciousness.
After lunch I felt motivated to at least put the new shipment away, check the voicemail, and go through the book requests I still had to order. I stayed busy until closing then forced myself to run off some of the calories I had recently ingested. After a long soak in the tub, I fell into my bed and crashed for twelve hours straight.
The next morning I was in a better mood and even watched for Restaurant Guy to strip in the parking lot. His smile lit up his face when he saw me watching, and in a daring move, I actually winked at him. It was smoother than I would have predicted. Go me.
When I stepped back in the store, I literally patted myself on the back for my awesome moment, then scolded myself for doing such a lame thing as patting my own back. When would I ever learn?
Meyer showed up after school. She had spent Sunday hiding out in her room, so I was glad to see her in better spirits. After she added three more books to the waiting list, she took over the seat in the big bay window to conquer her latest obsession with another dystopian series.
I was busy calling customers to let them know their books had arrived when I heard the bell jingle over the door. People were in and out all the time, most of them browsers, so I didn’t think anything of it until I heard Meyer snap, “What are you staring at?”
A low chuckle vibrated through the store, and I immediately knew who had entered. “You know, Reagan said the same thing to me the first time I met her.”
“Then perhaps you should stop staring at people,” Meyer told him.
“I just can’t believe how much you look like her.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get in line. No one can.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Brock without looking up from highlighting another name on the list. The less eye contact made, the better.
“Stopping by to see you. Waverly’s, huh? Clever.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him approaching the front where I was safely trapped behind the heavy wood and glass display.
“She was a great teacher.”
“That she was.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, so all I could see were the muscles and his face that had girls doing double takes for years. “Who else would have put up with you challenging them every day like that?”
My eyes finally met his, and I found them full of humor and so familiar that it was hard to breathe. “No one, likely. That’s why it was so fun. Now, why are you really here?”
“I was hoping I could take you to dinner. I think we should talk on more neutral ground.”
“I can’t tonight. I’m busy.”
“You any good at scrabble?” Meyer interrupted, ignoring my scowl.
“The best. I used to beat her all the time,” Brock nodded his head my way.
“Liar,” I coughed out.
“Please,” he scoffed. “I still hold the record from that game that lasted through the flood of 2001.” Damn it. Did he forget anything?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meyer’s eyes flick between Brock and me. I knew what was coming before she opened her silly little mouth. “Why don’t you come over? We’re just having pizza and playing board games. We do it every Sunday night.”
“Meyer, go call your dad.” Her jaw dropped, and she did that teenager thing where she stomped her foot then stormed away when she saw I was serious. She was only ten! Since when do ten-year-olds act like that?
“So, I’ll see you tonight.” Brock turned and stepped toward the door.
“What? No. That invitation doesn’t count.”
“Then come to dinner with me. It’s one or the other, Rea.” The nickname. He had me, and he knew it. Either he came to the house where everyone would be witness to the awkward tension between us or we had dinner alone. What was the lesser of the two evils?
“Fine. I’ll join you for dinner.” I decided keeping Jordan from having additional
“True. And cheesecake. Hand it over.” I waved my hand, and she passed me the box of cherry-covered deliciousness.
After lunch I felt motivated to at least put the new shipment away, check the voicemail, and go through the book requests I still had to order. I stayed busy until closing then forced myself to run off some of the calories I had recently ingested. After a long soak in the tub, I fell into my bed and crashed for twelve hours straight.
The next morning I was in a better mood and even watched for Restaurant Guy to strip in the parking lot. His smile lit up his face when he saw me watching, and in a daring move, I actually winked at him. It was smoother than I would have predicted. Go me.
When I stepped back in the store, I literally patted myself on the back for my awesome moment, then scolded myself for doing such a lame thing as patting my own back. When would I ever learn?
Meyer showed up after school. She had spent Sunday hiding out in her room, so I was glad to see her in better spirits. After she added three more books to the waiting list, she took over the seat in the big bay window to conquer her latest obsession with another dystopian series.
I was busy calling customers to let them know their books had arrived when I heard the bell jingle over the door. People were in and out all the time, most of them browsers, so I didn’t think anything of it until I heard Meyer snap, “What are you staring at?”
A low chuckle vibrated through the store, and I immediately knew who had entered. “You know, Reagan said the same thing to me the first time I met her.”
“Then perhaps you should stop staring at people,” Meyer told him.
“I just can’t believe how much you look like her.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get in line. No one can.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Brock without looking up from highlighting another name on the list. The less eye contact made, the better.
“Stopping by to see you. Waverly’s, huh? Clever.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him approaching the front where I was safely trapped behind the heavy wood and glass display.
“She was a great teacher.”
“That she was.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, so all I could see were the muscles and his face that had girls doing double takes for years. “Who else would have put up with you challenging them every day like that?”
My eyes finally met his, and I found them full of humor and so familiar that it was hard to breathe. “No one, likely. That’s why it was so fun. Now, why are you really here?”
“I was hoping I could take you to dinner. I think we should talk on more neutral ground.”
“I can’t tonight. I’m busy.”
“You any good at scrabble?” Meyer interrupted, ignoring my scowl.
“The best. I used to beat her all the time,” Brock nodded his head my way.
“Liar,” I coughed out.
“Please,” he scoffed. “I still hold the record from that game that lasted through the flood of 2001.” Damn it. Did he forget anything?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meyer’s eyes flick between Brock and me. I knew what was coming before she opened her silly little mouth. “Why don’t you come over? We’re just having pizza and playing board games. We do it every Sunday night.”
“Meyer, go call your dad.” Her jaw dropped, and she did that teenager thing where she stomped her foot then stormed away when she saw I was serious. She was only ten! Since when do ten-year-olds act like that?
“So, I’ll see you tonight.” Brock turned and stepped toward the door.
“What? No. That invitation doesn’t count.”
“Then come to dinner with me. It’s one or the other, Rea.” The nickname. He had me, and he knew it. Either he came to the house where everyone would be witness to the awkward tension between us or we had dinner alone. What was the lesser of the two evils?
“Fine. I’ll join you for dinner.” I decided keeping Jordan from having additional
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