Chapter 5
FIVE
FLYNN
I'd never been to a comic convention. People talking, yelling and singing plus a mingling of smells, some good, others not so much, overloaded my senses when I walked through the doors of the convention center.
There were hundreds of people in elaborate costumes milling around vendor booths and the air was thick with excitement and the smell of overpriced food. My wolf complained, wanting to retreat to somewhere quiet and familiar and he reminded me we had a coffee date with Clark later.
But what Clark had said about the science fiction sales spikes had been nagging at me.
If I was going to expand that section of my store, I had to understand what drew people to these events.
Many drove for hours to get here and when they did, they paid an admission fee just to buy books and merchandise they could probably find online.
The answer had to be community.
I'd been wandering the aisles for twenty minutes, noting which booths had the longest lines and checking out the most popular books when I spotted him.
A guy about my height in an elaborate Peter Pan costume consisting of forest green tunic, brown leather boots, and a feathered cap that should have looked ridiculous but worked perfectly.
His features were obscured with face paint to create a more animated appearance.
He was at a booth selling vintage children's books and chatting with the vendor about first editions. I knew that voice. But the costume threw me off just long enough that I stood there staring before my brain caught up.
Clark!
My wolf raised his head, a reaction that was becoming more common when we were near Clark. I forced myself to focus on the merchandise instead. The vendor had an impressive collection of science fiction first editions alongside newer releases that was the kind of mix that might work in my store.
I approached the booth but Clark was deep in conversation, gesturing with his hands that somehow made even leather gauntlets look graceful.
"Looking for anything specific?" the vendor asked.
"I own a bookstore." I wondered if Clark might react to my voice. "Trying to get a sense of what sells at these events."
Clark tilted his head, coupled with a mischievous glint in his eyes I’d seen before.
"Oh, cool! Which store?" He smirked.
He was playing a game, and despite myself, I wanted to play along.
"Turning Pages."
"Really?" His eyes widened. "I've heard of that place. The owner's supposed to be this mysterious, brooding type who knows everything about books."
"Is that what people say?"
"Oh, definitely. Probably reads ancient poetry by candlelight." He giggled. "Though I heard he recently hosted a children's reading, so maybe he's not as intimidating as everyone thinks."
"Clark." I couldn’t hide my own smile.
"Flynn." He lowered his voice. "I can't believe you're here. What made you change your mind about conventions?"
“You made me curious about the sales patterns, so I thought I'd see what the appeal was."
His smile grew brighter. "You came to a comic convention because of something I said?"
Heat crept over my cheeks and sweat dribbled down my spine. "It's market research."
“Let me show you around. I've been coming to these for years."
Before I could object, he had linked his arm through mine and was steering me away from the book vendor. The casual contact should have made me uncomfortable because I wasn't someone who enjoyed being touched by near-strangers but with Clark it felt natural. And my wolf loved it.
"So Peter Pan?"
He adjusted his feathered cap. "I've been working on a modern retelling.
In this version, Peter lives beneath the city in a series of underground tunnels and appears in hacked live streams, while Hook is an evil tech mogul.
" He plucked at his outfit. “Though my costume fits with the original version.”
"You wrote a book and then dressed as the character to research it?"
"You say that like it's weird."
It was but it was also charming, and exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from him.
We spent the next hour wandering the convention floor.
Clark introduced me to vendors he'd worked with, explained the appeal of different genres, and helped me understand why people were willing to pay premium prices for exclusive editions and covers.
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself interested in conversations about storylines and character development.
"Try this." He appeared at my elbow with two cups of coffee and what looked like a cookie shaped like a spaceship. "It’s sugar in cookie form. Convention food is unhealthy but tastes amazing."
I bit into the cookie and understood why children got hyper at these events. "This is pure sugar."
"I know, right?" He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "Want to check out the artist alley?"
The alley was quieter than the main vendor floor, with individual artists displaying their work in small booth spaces.
Clark stopped at nearly every table, chatting with the people about their techniques and commissioning processes.
He had an easy way of connecting with everyone that I envied because he had a genuine interest coupled with warmth that made strangers want to share their stories.
"You're good at making people feel heard." We moved away from a booth.
He glanced at me. "It's not hard when you want to discover what they're doing."
"It is for me."
"I think you're better at it than you realize. But you do it with books instead of small talk."
Before I could ask him to explain, he was pulling me toward a booth displaying intricate book sculptures. The artist had carved entire scenes into old hardcover books, creating three-dimensional dioramas that told stories within stories.
Clark pointed to a sculpture that showed a tiny dragon curled around even tinier books. "It's like your store in miniature."
The artist, a woman in her sixties with paint-stained fingers, overheard us. "You own a bookstore."
"Yes. Turning Pages."
"I love that place!" Her face lit up. "You have the most wonderful selection of art books. I've bought half my reference library from you."
I stared at her, trying to place the face. "Mrs. Chancellor?"
"That's me. Though I usually look less like I've been wrestling with paint tubes when I visit your store."
"Flynn has the best eye for curating collections," Clark told her. "He doesn't just stock books, he creates experiences."
"I always tell people that Turning Pages is a real bookstore, not just a retail space,” the older woman said.
I'd never thought of myself as creating experiences or curating anything more meaningful than inventory. But hearing them talk about my store like it mattered gave me warm fuzzies.
"You okay?" Clark pulled me along an aisle as we moved away from Mrs. Chancellor’s booth.
"Just... processing."
"Want to get some air? There's a food truck area outside that's usually less crowded."
The afternoon sun warmed my face after hours under fluorescent lights. We found a picnic table away from the main crowd and Clark removed his feathered cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
"So?” he asked. "What's the verdict? Think you'll expand the science fiction section?"
"Probably.” I had to admit the visit was worthwhile. "This was... educational."
"But?"
Words tumbled around in my head and I thought not about books but about Clark. Even in costume and surrounded by the pandemonium of the convention, he wasn’t fazed by the bedlam. He belonged there and at the library and my store. He fit in everywhere.
"You're not what I expected." My almost whisper was so low I wasn’t sure he heard me.
One of his brows shot up. "What did you expect?"
"Someone less..." I shrugged.
"Less what?"
"Less everything, I suppose."
He nudged me with his shoulder and that got my wolf excited. “You know that goes both ways, right?"
Before I could ask what he meant, he stood and extended his hand. "Come on. There's one more thing I want to show you." He tucked his arm in mine.
My beast was wide awake, saying he liked Clark’s scent but whatever was happening between Clark and me was too fragile and important to question.
As we walked, my wolf perked up even more. Him being so alert had nothing to do with crowds or costumes.
Clark's scent had changed. It was still that warm, sweet smell I'd noticed that first day, but it was richer. And it carried undertones that made my pulse quicken and my wolf practically purr.
I glanced at my human companion. Was he aware of the change? He was chattering about book marketing. His cheeks were flushed from the afternoon sun and his hair mussed from wearing the cap. But there was something different when he glanced at me.
The scent change carried a message. He wasn't just being friendly or professional. This thing between us had evolved into something deeper, and his body was responding whether he realized it or not.
My wolf urged me to kiss him and I so wanted to but what were we to one another? We were sort of friends? Or was that me overstepping?
I tried to push the feeling down, but Clark laughed at something and his face lit up. I was in serious trouble. The kind that started with attraction and ended with complications I wasn't ready to handle.
But as he pulled me back into the convention center, still talking about everything we'd seen, I found myself not caring about the complications. For once in my carefully controlled life, trouble was exactly what I wanted.