Chapter 5
The perfume of fresh lilacs and sun-warmed grass wafted through the open windows of Prose & Positivity. I closed the bookshop and indulged in a little ‘me time’ in the reading nook, sipping on lavender-honey iced tea and munching on a savory Caprese sandwich.
The reading nook, a snug little alcove, was my favorite spot in the bookshop. With its overstuffed armchairs, fluffy throw pillows, and the vintage coffee table, it was a secret hideaway where my customers or I could lose ourselves in a good book.
It was in this very nook I often found myself reflecting on my life. Which up until now had been a blend of romance novels, bad first dates, and cat hair, and trust me, all of which stick to you in unexpected ways.
Now, in a shocking twist, I was in uncharted territory—reading a horror novel. It was as if I’d suddenly traded in my cozy blanket and fuzzy slippers for a flashlight and a sense of impending doom.
Closing the book, I sighed. “Is proving the superiority of romance really that important to me?”
“Meow.” Sushi lounged in a soft, plush cat bed in the corner.
My gaze roamed the tidy rows of romance paperbacks, making me feel like a traitor.
“I’m reading horror,” I grumbled, then turned to Sushi. “Horror!”
Sushi groomed her paw, apparently indifferent to my existential crisis.
I sighed again, realizing this reading competition with Dax was like trying to navigate a minefield on roller skates—scary and disorienting, with a high probability of falling flat on my face. But I was nothing if not determined (some might say stubborn, but I prefer the term ‘tenacious’), and I refused to let a few scares keep me from proving my point.
If I could handle the daily drama of running a bookshop in a small town occupied by colorful characters and their equally colorful opinions, surely I could handle a few fictional frights.
Lifting the well-worn copy of It’s Alive! by Merry Shaw that Dax had loaned me from his own collection, I settled in to read another chapter.
Over the last week, I’d been sneaking in chapters between customers, staying up late to read just one more page (which inevitably turned into ten), and even contemplating the Gothic narrative while sipping my morning coffee.
The Victorian gloom of Vincent’s tale—a retired scientist turned hotelier with a flair for reanimation— was un-put-downable. I’d even started pondering the nature of humanity and the darkness that lurked in the corners of our souls...when I wasn’t jumping at every creak of the floorboard.
With one hand, I stroked my cat’s silky fur. “This book isn’t so bad. Sure, it’s giving me enough goosebumps to last a lifetime, but it’s entertaining.”
Sushi flicked her ears in acknowledgment, yet remained noncommittal.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed. A chance to let go of my death grip on the familiar and embrace something new. Maybe I’ve been missing out all this time by only reading anything and everything romance-y.
I continued reading, my heart pounding during certain parts of the story, and at other times a tear came to my eye that I quickly swiped away. I couldn’t let Sushi see me getting emotional. I’d never live it down.
When I finished the final pages of It’s Alive!, I stretched and smiled.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” I huffed. “I’m allowed to branch out, aren’t I? Expand my literary horizons?”
Sushi just stared at me, then stretched and moseyed over to me. She proceeded to hop up onto my thighs and get comfortable.
I sat up, causing Sushi to wobble on my lap. “Still, this is a pretty big deal for me, actually enjoying a horror story.”
Oh, no. This couldn’t lead to anything good! What’s next, taking up cross-fit? I grimaced at the image.
The bell above the door jingled, announcing the arrival of Dax, and Sushi hopped off my lap. My heart fluttered at the sight of him. Then I stiffened and cursed myself for the lusty reaction to the newest member of the book club.
Dax moseyed inside and towered over my chair as if a Greek god had descended from Mount Olympus, trading in his toga for a pair of well-worn jeans, a fitted shirt, and stylish boots. It was an infuriatingly attractive combination that had no business affecting me the way it did.
No business at all!
It wasn’t just his good-looks that threw me off balance, though that certainly didn’t help. I was used to my life being predictable, each day following a habitual pattern of reading and running the bookshop. Now with Dax around, I was reading horror (gasp!) —yes, horror!
No matter how many times I said it, it still sounded surreal.
He took a seat across from me. “I saw the lights on and thought I’d stop in. Ready to discuss your first foray into horror? Did you finish the book?”
“Yes, just now in fact.”
“Did you like the story, bookworm?”
“Okay, so...” I focused on the leather-bound hardback in my hands. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Actually, it was really good.” I rushed the last word out. It was hard enough admitting I’d liked the storyline, let alone confessing it to Dax of all people. I could practically feel his smug grin burning into me.
“Wait, hold up. Did I just hear the romance devotee admit to enjoying a horror novel?” Dax teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Just because I didn’t hate one novel doesn’t mean I’m ready to don a black cloak and start reciting Edgar Allan Poe.”
Dax chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “At least you’re appreciating the nuances of a good scare. And that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, horror isn’t as one-dimensional as you think.”
Shaking my head, I snorted. “I’m still very much a romance girl at heart. And I’ll confess the book made me realize there’s more to the genre than I supposed.”
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet, bookworm. Who knows, you might like the dark side…” Dax’s gaze smoldered, and for a brief, heart-palpitating second, I swore a flicker of desire flared in his eyes.
I fumbled with the book in my lap, nearly sending it tumbling to the floor, before I reminded myself that flirting was simply part of his annoying charm.
Shifting in my seat, I quickly changed the subject. “And let’s not forget about the romantic undertones in It’s Alive!, the love and longing Vincent felt for Edwina was so beautiful and tragic.”
“You and your fascination with romantic narratives…” Dax let out a modest chuckle. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that one.”
With a cheeky grin, I gestured towards the shelves brimming with bodice-rippers and bare-chested male models. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a schmaltzy love story, no matter the genre.”
Dax shook his head. “Paris, you’re comparing hot summer flings to chilling nightmares here. Horror and romance serve different purposes.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean they can’t coexist or even teach us something.” Giving his leg a playful nudge with my foot, I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’ll concede this round to your macabre perspective, but I’m not abandoning the crusade to prove romance reigns supreme.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He winked, then stood up. “We should head out to our spooktacular field trip this evening. We can explore this abandoned hotel on the outskirts of town. And it perfectly complements the book.”
We both went quiet. The air shifted, charged with something akin to static before a storm. All his ruggedness and bulging biceps, stark against the backdrop of pastel book spines and pink painted walls, seemed startlingly out of place.
Our differences were never so glaringly apparent. This man was dangerous. Insanely hot, but dangerous to my carefully controlled world.
And he kept disrupting the carefully crafted world I had built for myself. Dax represented change, a force that threatened to shake up my comfortable routine and push me out of my cozy, book-filled bubble.
What was next? Dragging me to the gym at ungodly hours? Or worse, what if he convinced me to enjoy it? I shuddered at the thought of trading in my cute cardigans for snug biker shorts.
Even as I tried to convince myself that Dax was nothing but trouble, I couldn’t ignore the tiny part of me that was intrigued. What would it be like to take a chance on something unfamiliar?
I tilted my head. “Dax, I’ve gotta ask. What’s with the horror fixation? You’re not secretly planning to lure me into a hostel and sacrifice me to some ancient, eldritch god, are you?”
He let out a hearty laugh, the rumble charming and a little disconcerting. “No, no, nothing like that!” Dax waved a dismissive hand, the muscles in his forearms flexing in a way that momentarily distracted me. “It’s just a passionate interest, I assure you. I promise I’m not hiding any cursed artifacts or voodoo dolls in my apartment.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. So? Tell me why you like it so much.”
Dax’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Guess it goes back to when I was a teenager. Found this box of horror novels in my grandad’s attic one summer. Those books were an escape from the everyday. You might not believe this, but I used to get picked on a lot as a kid. I was scrawny and weak and an easy target for the bullies.” His gaze turned distant as if visualizing those nights spent reading under the covers. “Horror showed me the resilience we’re capable of. Like in the gym, when you’re pushing your limits, it’s not just about the physical. It’s mental, too. Facing down something scary and coming out the other side...there’s power in that.”
My voice was soft, reflective. “That makes sense.”
“Reading about ordinary people confronting their darkest fears, battling monsters, or surviving against all odds—it resonated with me. Made me realize there’s something exhilarating about pushing through dread, about finding out what you’re actually made of.” Dax raked fingers through his hair. “Those nights, reading by flashlight, they changed me. It wasn’t just about getting scared, it was learning that the genre speaks to the core of the human experience—the battle between light and darkness, good and evil, life and death.”
So, it wasn’t just a casual interest for Dax, horror was profoundly inspiring, and a symbol of the strength and perseverance inherent in us all, and all the while maintaining perfect hair and an impressive set of abs.
Or he just really enjoyed the adrenaline rush of being scared out of his well-defined muscles. Either way, I had to admire his love of reading and his willingness to embrace the edgier side of life—even if I still preferred my stories with a guaranteed happily ever after.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“To me, horror and thrillers boil down to one thing—performance under pressure. It’s what I live for, what I teach. There’s no room for doubt in the gym, just like in life.” He punched a fist into his open palm. “You set your goal, you chase it down, and you don’t stop until you’ve crushed it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like those stories were more than just entertainment for you.”
“They were. Plus, it’s like hitting a new personal record at the gym. It’s addictive.” He jumped to his feet, his muscles rippling under his tight t-shirt, and jerked his head towards the door. “Let’s go, bookworm.”
My nerves did a jittery dance. I stay seated, setting the book on the table next to me. The only other time I’d dipped my toes into horror was when I’d watched that werewolf movie Ginger Snacks, and I spent a week giving the side-eye to every stray dog in the neighborhood. Now, having just read a dark gothic tale and Dax trying to coax me into an eerie night on the town, I could say goodbye to peaceful nights, and hello to an unhealthy obsession with checking under the bed.
Dax wagged a finger at me. “Hey, you agreed to this reading challenge, remember? And the outings that accompany each book.”
Wandering around a derelict hotel? No thank you.
“Haunted places aren’t exactly my idea of a good time.”
His expression softened. “I promise, it’s all in good fun. And if things get too intense, we can leave. I’ll be right by your side the whole time. Please?”
Leaning back, I suddenly felt a slight kinship with him. Like me, Dax stood out like a sore thumb in our quaint little town, where everyone seemed to fit into neat, predictable boxes. Well, an insanely attractive, muscular thumb. And that’s precisely what I was finding so refreshing about him. While I often felt like an outsider myself, Dax’s brazen love for all things spooky made me realize I wasn’t alone in my quirks. It was as if we were members of a secret club, where a passion for the unconventional was not only accepted but celebrated.
And if you’re going to wander around a haunted location, you might as well do it with a cute guy by your side.
“Okay.”
Channeling my inner Emma Woodhouse, I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could be witty, charming, and confident, even on a scary fieldtrip.
He held out his hand, and I hesitated before taking it. His grip was steady and tender, and I tried not to think about how perfectly our hands fit together.
“If I have nightmares, you’ll owe me a lifetime supply of nightlights.” I gave him a tentative smile.
What had I just agreed to?
I wasn’t usually one for taking risks, preferring the safety and reliability of my books and my routines. Dax had a way of talking me intothings that were outside of my comfort zone.
After I locked up the bookshop, we walked towards his car—a sleek black Dodge Charger parked at the curb. He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid onto the leather seat. Then almost got back out.
I liked Dax, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but I liked my life the way it was, and I didn’t need him coming in and turning everything upside down with his persuasive smiles and flirtatiousness. I just had to get through this genre swap and get back to my life—the one rearranging my bookshelves to make room for more titles and tripping over my cat’s extensive toy collection.