Knotting Hill (How I Met My Monster)

ONE

Will

“Hot one today.” Ian, my only employee, and the world’s worst vampire, shuts the door to the shop quickly behind him, blocking out most of the weak spring sunlight. Beneath the thick coat he wears, his shoulders are smoking. He hands me a takeout coffee and presses a button on his hat and retracts the custom hat-brella he invented to shade him from the worst of the sun.

Don’t ask me why he doesn’t just sleep during the day in his coffin like a normal vampire. Ian is far from normal. I asked him years ago when we first met, but he has never given me a reasonable answer. He just lectures me about fighting your fate and how you don’t have to give in to the monster inside.

Like that’s something I don’t know.

He comes over to the desk behind the counter where I’m sitting, glancing at my screen and the spreadsheet open on it.

“Cooking the books, huh? How’s it going?” He stands there expectantly, as if it’s possible I could have anything good to say.

I sigh and turn the screen of my laptop so he can see more clearly. “Not good, I’m afraid.”

Ian makes a hum of sympathy. “Don’t worry. It’s just a bad month. Things will pick up after summer.”

I’d like to agree with him. Only, my figures from the last year show only a steady decline in business. It probably doesn’t help that Ian spends most of the day reading or rearranging books that don’t need to be rearranged rather than actually serving customers, but I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s the problem. I don’t have the heart to let him go, either.

I’m a terrible boss.

Besides, he currently lives in the basement of my house after I took pity on him. Firing him would just be awkward.

“Right, well I’m just going to get started on the back room,” Ian says.

What he really means is he’s going to sit out back with a cigarette and his coffee and pretend to work, but I smile and nod. “Sure.”

At least, it gets him out of my hair for a while.

I’m scrolling back through our sales data wondering if it’s possible I missed a whole week, when the bell above the door tinkles and I look up. A slim, shapely woman in dark glasses and a long jacket enters. I give her a halfhearted smile and go back to my work.

Then I have to look again.

She’s tall—though not as tall as my six foot two, and her long dark hair is immaculately styled. When she slides the sunglasses up onto her head, I get a better look at her face and nearly choke on my cappuccino. She’s the spitting image of Bella Owens.

Bella Owens, the famous actress who, if the rumors are true, is currently filming right here in London.

But it couldn’t be. There’s no way a world famous actress like Bella Owens visits my tired little bookstore.

I hold my breath and watch out of the corner of my eye as she moves slowly into the shop and picks up a book. Do I say something? The dark glasses tell me she’s probably not going to appreciate being recognized. She probably just wants to mind her own business and not be bothered.

I resolve to play it cool and not blurt out I’ve been masturbating for the last five years to that scene in “Love Me Not” where you see her tits.

Oh, God, could I be any more of a loser?

After obsessing over the film for the better part of a year, I read somewhere they were really her tits onscreen. Not just a stunt double. I always wondered if it was true. Of course, that was fuel on the fire.

Stifling a groan of self-loathing at the path my thoughts have taken, I surreptitiously watch Bella continue through the store. She runs a slender finger over the spine of a copy of Great Expectations and I gaze in fascination. She’s even more gorgeous in real life. Which is a bit baffling given if you’d asked me yesterday, I would have rated her a ten out of ten. She’s more like an eleven in real life.

I think it’s the tiny imperfections they never let you see on screen. The way her hair kinks slightly at the ends. The way she brushes a hand over the wrinkle in her skirt.

I cough and look away.

Not ogling a customer’s ass. Not thinking about this customer’s tits, even if they’re the most perfect tits in the entire universe. Pert and round and—

From here, I catch a whiff of her rich deep perfume and something darker, more musky and natural beneath it. My wolf is howling at me to sniff around her ankles. He’s an uncivilized beast, that side of me. I keep him suppressed as much as possible.

It’s a testament to how distracted I am by Bella that I don’t notice Ian has emerged from the back room until his cold hand clutches my shoulder. “You alright, boss? You look like you’re on the scent of a rabbit.”

“What? No. What are you talking about? I thought you had stock to sort or something.”

He gives me a strange look that lasts far too long and is about a foot too close to my face. I never know whether or not to look away from him when he gets like this. My instincts say it might bring out the predator in him. Despite being the worst vampire in existence, he is still a vampire. Just like all of us, he has natural urges he has to fight. I try not to think about how often he considers biting me.

He looks at Bella browsing between bookshelves at the back of the store and then speaks at the top of his voice. “Hey, that’s that actress isn’t it? You know? From that film you’re always watching. What’s her name? Bonnie Covens? Belinda Ovens?”

I frantically make a chopping motion at my neck and mouth the words shut up .

He ignores all my silent signals and blunders on until he finally gets it. “Bella. That’s the one. Bella Owens.”

Before I can stop him, he rounds the desk and strides toward her. “You know, we have some books that are actually good somewhere, if you’re interested in buying.”

I wince. There is no one I trust less to handle this. If Ian had been made a vampire a few centuries earlier, you might actually find his name under the dictionary definition of ‘socially awkward’.

When Bella looks up, I have just enough time to catch the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth before she composes her expression into a pleasant smile. “Oh, is that right?”

I find myself categorizing her accent. Smooth with a soft hint at her American origins. Or perhaps I’ve watched her films so many times I’ve grown used to the sound of her voice.

“Yeah.” When Ian leans too close, to her credit, she hardly flinches. “This one’s terrible. Dreadful plot and the main character is a daft bint.”

Bella makes a low, thoughtful hum. “A shame I already signed the contract to play her in my next film, then, isn’t it?”

I am already on my way to rescue Ian—or Bella, I’m not sure which—when he backtracks so hard I basically strain my neck watching. “Oh! Did I say terrible? I meant fabulous. Wonderful. I really love the way the author blended romance and cannibalism with post-apocalyptic murder mystery. Really excellent writing. Have you seen there’s a whole series? Maybe you should get them all.” He starts fishing books from the shelf and stacking them in her arms.

I step in and gently retrieve the next book from his cold fingers. “Ian, why don’t I take over from here?”

“Oh, not to worry, boss. I was just doing a bit of up-selling.” He gives me such an exaggerated wink the people three blocks down probably spotted it. “You know? Fleece the ones that can pay, huh? Gotta make up for last month’s poor sales now, don’t we?”

I clear my throat. “Ian?”

He stops and tips his head to one side. “Yeah?”

“This is one of those times where I’m going to need you to go to the backroom and check our stock for a moment.”

His expression clouds for a moment. Then, as if the sun is breaking through, he suddenly smiles. “Oh!” He taps the side of his nose. “Right you are, boss. Back room. Got it. I’m going straight to the back room now, and I’ll check that stock. So lovely to meet you, Ms. Owens.” With an actual salute, he disappears behind a stack of books and I’m left face to face with Bella Owens. Then I remember the pile of books. “Sorry. Sorry about him. Let me take those for you.”

She hands me the books. “Thank you.”

“Listen, there's really no excuse. I’m very sorry. Please go back to browsing. I promise we’ll leave you in peace now. I’ll just be at the desk, if you want anything.”

I turn to go, books teetering precariously in my arms.

“What if I want to know where the good books are?”

I freeze.

I turn and find the hint of that sardonic smile again. My heart pounds in my chest and I’m certain if I check, I’ll find my palms are sweaty. “Ah, yeah. Listen. Don’t take Ian seriously. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

She laughs. I know it’s a cliche but honestly her blue eyes sparkle like gems just for a moment and I’m breathless. “I happen to agree with him. It’s a terrible book. Unfortunately, my agent says I need this part. So here we are. Don’t hold out on me, though. I want the good stuff.”

How is it possible for one person to be this beautiful and apparently funny and clever, too? Hastily shoving the Zombify My Heart books back on the shelf, I gesture toward the far corner where I keep the poetry books. “Well, in that case, if I might be so bold, I do have a recommendation, but I should warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

Her brows lift. “It’s not?”

I shake my head solemnly and lead her across to a shelf where I pluck Sylvia Plath’s Collected Poems from between two other books and hold it up. “No. Some of them are a bit heavy. But I’m always glad I’ve read them.” I hand her the book and she takes it, turning it over to look at the biography on the back.

“Thank you. Sometimes heavy is exactly what I’m looking for.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. She liked my suggestion.

On a whim, I pick up a copy of Clare Pollard’s Incarnation . “These are wonderful, too. Though you might need a hug afterward. I’ll throw this one in if you’d like it, because they’re worth reading.”

“Thank you.” She follows me to the counter and I try not to come across as weird or awkward as I ring up the books and place them carefully into a small brown paper bag. Hardly knowing why, I slip a business card into the bag, too. “In case you need more of the good stuff.”

She smiles at me as she takes the bag and our fingers brush.

A shudder runs through me head to toe. I have to clamp down sharply on the urge to shift and let my wolf take over so he can scent her. Learn her smell. Track her down later and follow her to the ends of the earth.

I turn away so she can’t see the way my eyes flash amber and my nails grow into claws for a moment as the barrier weakens along with my self-control.

It’s been a long time since I struggled so hard.

Despite the fact monsters are out, most humans remain suspicious of shifters. After all, we don’t look like monsters at first, so we take them by surprise. Which feels underhanded somehow. If only they knew how close the monster often is to the surface.

The bell on the door rings as Bella leaves. I let out a long breath. Ian’s voice from behind me makes me jump. “I knew she was after the good stuff. There’s a woman with taste.”

“God damn it, Ian, how many times do I have to ask you not to do that?”

“Sorry, boss. Right you are. Time for another coffee?”

I look at the clock on my laptop screen and back at my unfinished cold coffee from before. Then I sigh. “Yeah. Go on. Actually, you know what? It’s my turn. I’ll get this round. I need a walk.”