Chapter 6
NIX
“I’m looking for a particular book.”
“Great, I’d love to help you with that. If we don’t have it in stock, I can always order it for you.” I put on my best customer service smile despite my throbbing ankle.
“It’s green with pink writing on it.”
Over the last two years, I’ve gotten really good at hiding my facial expressions when people ask for things like this.
It might sound completely ridiculous, but a lot of people ask questions like this.
People see covers everywhere. They stick with them, but titles?
Those fall out of people’s heads the second after they finish hearing them. Unfortunately, many covers are similar.
“Sure. We can try to figure it out. Let me ask you a few questions. Do you know if the book is fiction or non-fiction?”
I’ve memorized my questions to help narrow down the process.
Eighty percent of the time, we can find the right title.
In a few cases, even after spending nearly an hour with a customer, I can’t figure it out.
There are a few descriptions tucked away in notes in the cash register, just in case I come across the book one day.
After a little bit of chatting, I’ve got a pretty good idea what the customer is looking for. “Absolutely. I think what you want is Self-Help for Serial Killers by Asia Mackay. It’s a new release, so we’ve got it out on one of the tables. Let’s go look, and you can tell me if I got it right.”
“I can do it.” Chase appears at my side with no warning.
“Are you sure?” I ask through gritted teeth. I don’t want to make a scene in front of the customer, but Chase doesn’t work here. At least not until tomorrow morning. This afternoon was supposed to be Chase-free. After the scene in the apartment, I desperately need it.
“It’s no problem. Mystery section, right?”
I nod, a little surprised that he knows that. It’s popular, but a self-professed non-reader wouldn’t know that. Plus, it’s a bit more niche than some of the other books I have out.
“Right this way. Hopefully, we’ll have you ready to start reading in just a few minutes.” He leads the customer away, making small talk the whole time.
How he does that, I have no idea.
When he’s gone, I let my head fall to the counter. Just for a second, I tell myself. One way or another, they’ll be back in a few minutes.
Chase doting on me upstairs brought up all those feelings I had for him as a teenager. I’d managed to mostly ignore them since he arrived, but with me on the ground, and him hovering over me, it was impossible to pretend that I didn’t have a hundred different fantasies that started that way.
Of course, not a single one of those included an ankle injury.
I had to get out of there. Somehow, I’d managed to keep him from noticing the growing bulge in my pants, but my luck would have to run out eventually.
The quicker I got away from him, the better.
Then I could go home, spend the night giving myself a stern talking-to, and return tomorrow, ready to train him without any dirty thoughts.
Or with minimal dirty thoughts that I kept completely to myself.
Except now the fantasies are multiplying like bunnies in my mind. The way he worried and took care of me was over-the-top and ridiculous, and I think it made me fall a little bit in love with him.
For goodness sake. That’s ridiculous. I can’t be in love with him. We don’t even know each other. Get. It. Together.
“We found it.”
I snap my head up to see Chase and the customer both coming back, grinning.
“That’s great.” It really is. There’s always a sense of accomplishment when I’m able to track down one of these mysterious books that customers come in asking for.
Some days, it’s exhausting, but seeing this new customer, clutching the hardback like a prized possession, it’s hard to feel anything but exhilarated. With a side of ankle pain, of course.
“Perfect. Do you need anything else today?”
“No, this will do it.” The customer slides the book across the counter to me.
“Great. In my opinion, this is her best work, so I hope you enjoy it.”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my grandchild.”
I pause for a second, trying to gauge how I want to proceed.
It’s a great book, but it’s meant for a mature audience.
Nothing crazy, but some scenes aren’t for young readers.
At least not without some oversight. “That’s wonderful.
How old is your grandchild?” If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people love to talk about their kids.
And pets. That’s even more true when it comes to grandchildren.
“Oh, he’s not really a kid. He’s off at college now.”
“That’s great. I’m sure he’ll love it.” And now that I know it’s not some twelve-year-old, I feel much better.
I ring her up and slip one of the store bookmarks between the pages. “I hope your grandson enjoys the book. See you again soon.”
I wait until I hear the jingle of the door before I dare look at Chase.
“Thanks. I can count this toward your work hours.”
He waves me off. “It’s no problem. I don’t want you walking too much until your ankle feels better. They can be deceivingly tricky.”
So can straight guys whom I have a giant crush on. “Well, it’s unnecessary, but nice.”
“Just tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll handle it for you.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Seriously. Let me do this.” He clears his throat a few times. “I want to.”
It’s the way he says it that breaks my resolve. He says it like his whole life is hanging by a thread, and, apparently, that one thread is assisting me.
I’ve been in that position multiple times, where the only thing keeping me from completely losing my mind is being busy, doing anything that made me feel like I still had a purpose in the world.
When Aunt May died, the thing that kept me going in those first grief-filled months was building this place.
Some days, I came here and ripped up old flooring for twelve hours straight, keeping at it until my back literally gave out.
“Okay. Thank you for the help.” Maybe I can keep him running around the shop. Away from me.
“Great. Point me in the right direction.”
“There’s a box in the back with some new hardback books. They go to a table near the front. It’s already cleaned off.” It’s the fun part of the week, when I get to turn over some of the displays to make way for the newest releases.
Could it wait until tomorrow morning? Absolutely.
In fact, I wasn’t going to put them out until then.
Technically, that’s when the book comes out, but there’s no ban on putting it out a few hours early.
I checked. Some books have strict requirements and putting them out early could mean I lose the ability to order from the publisher.
Most aren’t that strict. If I sell a copy or two a day earlier, no one will be mad.
In fact, they’ll be happy to have the sales figures.
“Got it.” He heads toward the back room.
If I stare at his ass in those tiny shorts as he walks away for a little longer than necessary, we’ll call it a side effect of the ibuprofen I took earlier.
That or the fact that his ass looks like something sculpted out of marble.
What does one even do to get an ass like that?
My guess is that whatever he does involves a lot of squats. I’d love to look like that, but there’s no chance I’m doing any of that bullshit. Guess I’ll have to live with the flat butt God gave me.
“Are these the ones?” He holds up a big box full of books.
“Yep, you got it.” I give him two big thumbs-up because, of course, I do. Could I be cool for even a single minute? Apparently not.
He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he walks off with the box in his hand, whistling a song that sounds vaguely familiar.
It’s weird to let someone else do the work.
It’s my store, so I usually do all the big jobs.
Or, really, all the jobs. The clerks I hire are there to help customers find books on the shelves, place orders, and ring people up.
The rest of the stuff feels too big to ask them to do.
I’m aware it’s called delegating, but I only have help part of the time.
Plus, I’m way too much of a control freak. Or so I’ve been told.
From my position propped up on the stool behind the counter, I only get the occasional peek at Chase. Most of the time, he’s out of my sight, but occasionally he comes into view. Usually just long enough for him to bend over and pull another book from the box.
Those fantasies? Yeah, they’re out of control right now. I’d do almost anything for the chance to bite that ass.
The stupid store layout means those little glimpses are few and far between. Someone should really do something about that.
Thankfully, I’m distracted by a few of the regular customers who pop in. Some browse the shelves for something that catches their eye, while others grab a specific book.
By the time closing rolls around, I’ve almost forgotten about Chase and his sexy ass.
Almost.
Right up until he appears in front of the counter, empty box in hand.
“Did you put them all on the table?”
“Yep, they’re all stacked up. Very nicely, too, I might add.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps a few buttons before sliding it over to me.
Yep, that is all the books. All seventy-five of them, artfully arranged on a small table.
It’s a disaster waiting to happen, all those books perched precariously on a tiny table at the front of the store.
The perfect position for pets, children, and clumsy adults to knock them over without a single thought.
Twenty at a time is usually more than sufficient. Maybe if this shop was in Copley Square, Boston, instead of downtown Sleighbell Springs, that would work. The book is popular, but it’s not going to be a massive craze. I expect to eventually sell through that stock, but not in the next week.
Or month.
It’ll last me most of the year.
“It looks great.” I sure hope my face is doing the right thing. Chase is so proud of his accomplishment. There’s no harm done; nothing that can’t be fixed. If a few books disappear to the backroom after he leaves, then it’s perfect.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks with such enthusiasm that I’m tempted to find him another chore. Maybe dusting the tops of the bookshelves. It’s late. My ankle hurts, and there’s a big bathtub calling my name.
“Nope. I’m just going to lock up and head home.”
“I can help.”
“With…”
“Locking up. Getting to your car.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got it.” That ass? The one I almost forgot about?
It can’t help me get to my car. If he’s touching me the whole way, well, I’m pretty sure I won’t make it.
At least not without embarrassing myself.
I’ve already done plenty of that today. We don’t need to add to it, thank you very much.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me help. I want to.”
And he does. Chase helps me turn the sign from open to closed.
Chase helps me lock the front door. Every step of the way, Chase is right there, by my side.
By the time he leaves me in my car, I can smell him all over me.
It’s an earthy scent that can’t possibly be natural, but also doesn’t smell like any cologne I know.
Instead of a bath, I decide to go straight to bed. Well, maybe not straight to bed. All those fantasies? Yeah, I’ll put them to good use.
Between the sheets, I let my mind wander toward an image of Chase, bent over, shorts riding up until the bottom of his cheeks are visible.
It’s the perfect fodder for a quick jerk-off session.
I stroke myself, slowly at first, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.
I’ve thought about it—a lot—over the years, but it’s different now.
He’s got facial hair that I would one hundred percent be willing to get beard burn for, especially if he wanted to take me in the back room of the shop.
It doesn’t take long before my hand speeds up, desperate for relief after being edged all day long.
Images of Chase pressing me up against the wall, covering my mouth so the customers wouldn’t be able to hear my moans dance through my head.
And yeah, maybe the whole town doesn’t need to be involved in my fantasies, but who’s it hurting?
Fantasy Chase doesn’t need to do much, only snake a hand around to grab hold of my cock.
In real life, I hope I’d make it more than a few strokes before shooting all over the wall.
Here, in my bed with nothing but a mental picture, I don’t manage that long before my orgasm crashes over me.
Panting and covered in cum, I slowly come back to myself.
Shit. That wasn’t good.
My fantasies of Chase—my best friend’s brother—have always stayed safely behind a wall in my mind. Despite many temptations, I’ve never allowed them to play out like this before. Not while I jerked off. That’s a slippery slope, one I’m not going down.
Even thinking about him made me come harder than I have in years.