Smitten in the Stacks (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 10

The washer’s buzzer jolted me from my reading reverie. Seated in the local laundromat, I had been thoroughly engrossed in Rosemary’s Babysitter by Ivan Leery. Placing my bookmark inside the page, I stood up and glanced at the clock made from a repurposed detergent box.

Scuffed linoleum tiles covered the floor, and retro artwork decorated the walls. Bright fluorescent lighting illuminated the multicolored clothing and linens whirling behind the round windows of the washers.

The door swung open, and Dax entered with a lopsided grin, holding a mesh bag of dirty clothes. “Ah, my favorite bookworm, venturing out from her literary lair to tackle the laundry beast.”

“Hey, Dax.” My heart skipped a disturbed beat.

“And I thought I was the only one who liked to mix fabric softener with my horror novels.” He jerked his chin at the paperback lying on top of my basket. “How are you liking Rosemary’s Babysitter? Has it started to creep you out yet?”

Taking change from my pocket, I dumped quarters into the dryer.”Only slightly more than the local gym instructor has.”

He rolled his eyes, then hoisted his bag onto a counter. “Looks like we both had the same idea. Though I have to say, your choice of reading material is far more intriguing than my old sports magazines.”

I held up the book, the cover featuring an eerie babysitter. “Horror novels and laundromats. The perfect combination for an exciting Friday night. Keeps me on the edge of my seat, wondering what’s lurking in the shadows...or the lint trap.”

Dax grinned. “So, am I right? Has the babysitter cast a spell on you yet?”

“No, but it’s always nice to have someone checking to make sure I haven’t joined an evil coven of childcare providers.”

“I got you.” His reply was immediate, sincere. “Pampers and holy water on standby. So, the book? What do you think so far?”

“The storyline’s gripping and intense, and has an odd sense of romanticism.”

“See?” Dax said, sorting his socks into piles. “Horror’s not just about the scares and gore. Some have a touch of romance, too.”

My eyebrow lifted. “Dax, if homicidal babysitters signify romance for you, we clearly need to work on your dating profile.”

Dax leaned against a dryer. “Perhaps, it’s time to redefine my idea of a meet-cute to include spellbooks and moonlit rituals.”

I shook my head, transferring my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Leave it to Dax to find the romantic potential in occult activities. His ability to spin even the most outlandish scenarios into date ideas was both endearing and mildly concerning.

“Should I be worried about you showing up at my door with a bouquet of wolfsbane and a pentagram-shaped box of chocolates?”

He laughed. “Nah, I’m more slick than that.”

“Oh, really? What’s your approach then?”

Dax smirked. “Think less ritual sacrifice, more Netflix and hex. Maybe some popcorn for the full effect.”

I snickered. “Of course, you’d find a way to make dark magic sound like a casual Saturday night.”

Dax shrugged. “Why not? Life’s too short to take everything so seriously.”

I studied him, then grinned. His easygoing outlook was infectious, a welcome contrast to my tendency to overthink every little detail. Dax’s presence was becoming a soothing balm, reminding me to find the humor and lightness in even the strangest of circumstances.

“I never thought I’d say this, but your laid-back attitude is starting to grow on me. It’s like you have this superpower of finding the humor in even the most bizarre situations.”

Dax grinned. “Someone has to balance out your high-strung tendencies, Miss Overthinking-Is-My-Middle-Name.”

I shoved him, but he barely budged. Damn those rock-solid muscles. “Excuse me. I prefer to think of it as being charmingly neurotic. Seriously though, it’s like you’re my personal Zen master, minus the bald head and flowing robes.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do go on. What else do you like about me, bookworm?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. Truth be told, his physique had definitely caught my attention initially. But as I got to know him, I discovered that Dax was so much more than a pretty face and chiseled abs. He had a heart of gold and a mind that never ceased to surprise me.

“Um, your compassion, humor, and generosity. And who would’ve thought that beneath those bulging biceps lies a philosopher?”

Dax clutched his chest. “Are you saying that you were only interested in my body at first? That hurts.”

“Hardly. Well...maybe just a little.” I laughed. You know, I gotta admit, I love our back-and-forth. It’s pretty awesome having someone who can match my snarky comments and actually gets me to look at things differently.”

“Wow, with praise like that, I might just have to propose right here among the fabric softener and dryer sheets,” he joked.

The laundromat was quiet except for the hum of spinning machines. A woman entered with a bundle of laundry, mostly baby clothes, and started doing her wash at the other end of the room.

“Okay, so let’s talk about Rosemary’s Babysitter,” I said. “We’ve got a witch eyeing Rosemary’s tot like it’s the last slice of pizza at a party. She’s convinced snagging the kid will turbocharge her supernatural powers.”

“Ah, but peel back the layers, and you’ll find it’s like a warped love letter, too.” Dax dumped a capful of detergent into the washer and closed the lid. “The babysitter chose Rosemary out of all the women in the whole world to babysit for. It’s like swiping right on destiny—if destiny had a fondness for the dark arts and murder.”

Giggling, I tossed a dryer sheet into the machine. “I suppose there’s a perverse charm in her relentless pursuit. Like a postman, neither rain nor sleet nor dark of night could keep her from her coven duties.”

“And yet, beneath her witchy exterior, her heart beats with desires unfulfilled, dreams of motherhood painted with a darker palette. Today’s curse is tomorrow’s enchantment.” Dax nudged my arm with his.

I started the dryer. “If she ever decides to trade her broomstick for a minivan, I’m sure the PTA meetings would be a scream.”

Dax chuckled. “Can you imagine? ‘All right, ladies, today’s agenda: bake sale, carpool schedule, and the annual sacrifice to the dark lord.’”

“And I bet she’d be the type to insist on organic, locally sourced eye of newt for the school potions lab.”

We laughed. I retook my seat. Shafts of sunlight sliced through the windows, forming shifting patterns on the checkerboard linoleum floor.

He sat across from me on a hard plastic chair. “I have to say, Paris, our conversations on books and life are the highlight of my day.”

“Well, I do have a PhD in witty banter and a black belt in sarcasm. But seriously, who else would indulge my passionate rants about proper bookshelf organization?” I shrugged, glancing down at the floor before meeting his eyes again. “And...you have a way of making me feel like the most fascinating person in the room, which is so sweet and appreciated.”

“That’s because you are fascinating, Paris.” Dax leaned back, his voice soft, intimate. “Your passion, your kindness—it’s remarkable. You have this way of making everyone who steps into your bookshop feel at home, like they’re part of something bigger. That’s a rare gift, and one I admire.”

My cheeks burned so red I probably looked like I had a major sunburn. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen me so clearly, appreciating the very qualities that often made me feel like an outcast in Bluebell Bend. I could sense my resolve crumbling. Which meant I had to keep my guard up, even if it meant fighting what I felt for the man who seemed to understand me in a way no one else ever had

“With lines like that, it’s a wonder you’re not a romance novelist yourself.”

He smiled. “Nah, I’m more of a ‘speak from the heart’ type of guy. And I just feel incredibly lucky to be your friend. To be a part of your life.”

“Is that so? I figured you were more of a slow-burn, friends-to-lovers trope-y guy,” I teased.

“Oh, I am.” He shifted and the plastic chair squeaked. “I should probably let you get back to your laundry and babysitter from Hell.”

Not what I wanted. At all. I couldn’t let him slip away, not when I was enjoying his company so much.

“We can do ours together,” I blurted, then, more quietly, “If you want.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could second-guess myself.

Dax paused with a soft smile. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I wasn’t quite ready to face the laundry demons alone.”

“Then I’ll protect you from them. Fear not, fair maiden, for I shall hold back these cotton foes with my mighty dryer sheet shield.”

Laying a hand on my forehead, I pretended to swoon. “My hero. Whatever would I do without you and your lint roller of justice?”

He stood and tossed his whites into an empty machine. “Well, for starters, you’d have to face the perils of static cling all by yourself.”

It was the bantering moments like these with Dax that made my cheeks ache from smiling.

I gasped. “The horror! I might end up accidentally accessorizing with a dryer sheet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back, bookworm.”

“My reputation as a fashionista is safe in your capable hands.” I curtsied, nearly tripping over a cart in the process.

Dax laughed, steadying me with a hand on my arm. “Careful there. Don’t want you taking a tumble on my watch.”

His proximity was doing strange things to my heart, somersaults and backflips, that would score well in the Olympics of emotional turmoil. But I squashed those dangerous feels. Laundry awaited, and I couldn’t risk turning into a walking lint trap.

“At least I know you’d be there to catch me. My very own knight to the rescue.”

“I draw the line at jousting with ironing boards. A man’s gotta have his limits.”

I picked up a stray sock from the floor. “I suppose I can settle for a chivalrous dude who’s handy with a bottle of stain remover.”

“At your service, milady,” Dax said with a playful bow.

He had a way of making even the most mundane tasks seem fun. With him around, I half expected a quirky musical montage to break out at any moment, complete with dancing laundry baskets and singing dryer sheets. And each time we hung out, a deeper connection formed between us. I liked that Dax genuinely understood and appreciated me for who I was—weird quirks, quips, and all.

“So, um…you ever think about the future?”

He leaned against the folding table. “All the damn time. It’s what keeps me motivated at the gym and in my personal life.”

“Well, I have this dream of expanding my Instagram persona...” I paused, my nerves prickling at sharing my deepest ambition. “I, uh, I want to create a community that celebrates reading in all forms, a virtual place for booklovers to connect, explore, and find their next read.”

“You should do it. You’d be great at that.” His expression was sincere, encouraging.

“And I envision my bookshop becoming a landmark in Bluebell Bend,” I said, warming to the theme. “A place where stories are not just sold but lived and experienced.”

“That’s awesome. I have no doubt you’ll make it happen. Your bookshop is more than just a store, it’s a place where people can be themselves. And that’s because of you.”

My heart swelled so quickly that I half expected to float off the ground and right up through the ceiling.

Could I actually be catching feels for this guy?

A surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm me. For so long, I had felt like someone who didn’t quite fit in, but with Dax, I felt seen.

Without warning, a sudden, blistering pain shot through my temples, the start of a massive tension headache. An onslaught of unwanted memories insidiously filled my head. A reminder of what a fool I’d been. I’d trusted Julian completely, put all my faith in him, and he didn’t deserve any of it. That whole mess with him left me with this festering wound, warning me not to get too carried away or trust guys too easily. The experience had left me torn between self-preservation and the urge to close myself off entirely. It was exhausting, and made me question everything with Dax.

Pushing aside those painful thoughts, I ducked my head. “I have to admit, it’s nice to know someone sees the magic in what I’m trying to create.”

“I’m here for you, bookworm.” He grinned, holding up a pair of mismatched socks. “Even if it means pondering the great sock mystery. Seriously, where do all the missing ones go?”

I shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors of a secret society, where all the lost socks gather to plot their escape from the tyranny of the dryer.”

“Ah, so that’s where they all end up! I knew there had to be a logical explanation.”

“If it’s true, I’ve got a few pairs that could use some reuniting. For now, I’ll just have to embrace the mismatched look.” I held up two wildly different socks, one striped and one polka-dotted.

“I’m sure you’ll start a new trend in Bluebell Bend.”

We were quiet for a moment, sorting our laundry. The room was filled with the steady hum of the washers and dryers, punctuated by the occasional clang of buttons and zippers. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I caught a whiff of fabric softener blended with the scent of lavender detergent.

“So, I’ve been thinking, if Rosemary’s Babysitter had an Instagram, what do you think she’d post? Moody brew potion selfies?”

I snorted. “Hashtag witch-tastic lifestyle.”

“Hashtag murderous for likes.”

We laughed. Dax’s chuckle was a husky baritone that melted my insides.

“In all seriousness,” he said, “I’ve noticed how much effort you put into your bookstagram. It’s impressive.”

“Much appreciated.” I toyed with the cat charm bracelet on my wrist that Aunt Margo had given me, the cool metal soothing against my fingertips. “It started as just a hobby, you know? Now it’s...more.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned in, so close I could count the golden flecks in his eyes. His spicy cologne teased my senses, woodsy with a hint of citrus.

“More as in my account could be something. Real and big, but...it’s all kinda…I don’t know…” My voice faltered. I knew what I wanted to say, and of what I was afraid to admit.

“Overwhelming?” His thumb brushed against the back of my hand, rough calluses against my softer skin.

“Yeah, that.” I half-laughed, half-choked on the truth of it.

His hand still enveloped mine, strong, steady, and sure. I never wanted him to let go. Silence lingered between us, ripe and heavy with emotion.

“Paris?” Dax’s tone was a gruff rumble, sending tingles to all the right places.

“Mmm?”

“Once you finish Rosemary’s Babysitter, would you like to visit Eternal Slumber Cemetery with me? The book’s climax unfolds in a graveyard, so I thought it would be a fitting excursion for our next outing.”

“A graveyard date?” I smiled. “Sure, Dax. I’d love to get spooky with you.”

He gave my hand a final squeeze, his touch searing into my skin like a brand, before releasing me. The loss of contact was acute, like a physical ache. I flexed my fingers, already missing the weight of his hand in mine.

Dax was the romantic plot twist that I never saw coming, and I was starting to suspect that resistance might be futile.