Chapter 9 #2
Her eyes fluttered up to him, and he realised he was staring.
Tried to stop, but it was too late. Had sharing a meal with somebody always been such an intimate act?
Not that he could remember. Even on dates, he’d paid more attention to the tender cut of his steak than to how somebody’s mouth moved, tongue curled, fingers dabbed.
“What?” she whispered timidly, throwing the crust down into the box. “Do I have sauce on my face?”
He shook his head and took a slice of salami pizza for himself, if only to give himself something else to focus on. “No. You’re just wasting the good bit.”
Eiley wiped her mouth anyway. “If I’d known this meal came with a critique, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
He chuckled, perching on the counter beside her and trying not to notice the heat of her shoulder against his. “Apologies. It’s actually supposed to be an olive branch. A peace-a offering, if you will.” He paused. “That was bad, wasn’t it?”
“Very bad.” But her lip twitched all the same.
She frowned when he took a big bite of pizza. The beans on toast clearly hadn’t scratched the surface of his appetite.
“You eat like a man,” she said.
“I am a man.”
“Can’t you chew quieter?”
He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the critic?”
Still, he tried, even if the pizza was insanely delicious, all sweet, herby tomato and earthy mushrooms. When she said nothing, he nudged the Margherita box into her hip. “C’mon. I need help polishing this off.”
“I don’t have much of an appetite,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Shouldn’t that careless landlady be sorting it? Or having her other staff help, at least?”
“She’s busy. We agreed I’d take care of this while she sorts out the money and paperwork.” Eiley dipped her head. “And don’t tell anybody, but her other employee is getting on my nerves.”
“I’m sensing a common denominator here.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, flashing her a cheeky smirk. “Why’s that, then? Did he also try to stop you from going into a flooded building?”
A roll of her eyes. “No. He keeps” – she gestured wildly – “rearranging my displays! I spent half the day making that window look nice and autumnal, and then he switched up the order of my book recommendations and put fake spiders on the windowsill, which terrified my four-year-old. I mean, he put Lord of the Flies , which is set on a desert island, among my cosy seasonal reads!”
“That’s awful.” Warren assumed, at least. He had no idea what the book was about, or what made a read seasonal.
Still, her passion for the cause was endearing, especially when a red flush crawled up her neck. “I know !”
“You really care about this place, eh?” Curiosity shimmered through the question.
He’d always envied readers, how they could get lost in something as simple as pages and ink.
Once his dyslexia had been diagnosed, everybody had given up on trying with him.
He was just expected to not want to read anymore, so he didn’t, instead letting his classmates enjoy independent reading hour while he sat at the back of the class with homework so that everyone knew he was different.
“I love it here. Always have done.”
He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have to. Not when he saw the fondness in her gaze as it journeyed around the store.
Only one place had ever given him that feeling, and it was long gone now. He may have been in the process of rebuilding it, but it would never be like it was. Would never hold the people who had made it a home again.
At least the bare bones were still intact, here, and it looked like she’d saved more than a few books from certain death.
“Thank you, by the way, for finding Oliver.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Sky’s octopus plushie. It’ll make the change a little easier for him to deal with when I go home later.”
“Ah.” The toy had been the first thing he’d searched for when they’d made it upstairs, but she didn’t need to know that. “Don’t mention it. How old are your kids, if you don’t mind me asking?” he questioned.
“My boys are seven and four. My youngest, Saff, is a year and a half.”
“Must keep you busy, then.”
“Busy and exhausted, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She smiled with a calmness he hadn’t seen from her yet, and he couldn’t help but drink in every bit of it.
As he made for a second slice of pizza, his hand collided with Eiley’s. She jerked back, but he wouldn’t let her change her mind, grabbing a slice of Margherita and placing it on a napkin for her.
There was hope yet. Would dare say his olive branch had been successful. As she ate, he scratched the corner of his mouth with his thumb, trying to keep his satisfaction from breaking through.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Eiley scolded.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The air between them thickened. With anyone else, he’d have moved in closer, made his move, but something stopped him: perhaps the knowledge that this peace between them balanced too precariously, and he wasn’t ready to ruin it.
He hopped off the counter and began sweeping books off the nearest shelf, which leaned on damp foundations.
He hoped his organisational skills weren’t about to upset her the way this nightmare employee had; he tried to handle the paperbacks gently, though it was in his nature to rush, get the job done.
Many of the copies weren’t in too terrible a condition, with most pages merely crinkled.
If the spines could hold for long enough to dry, she’d manage to save them, just like she’d been so hellbent on last night.
“So, why isn’t your family here to help?” he asked.
Her reflection shifted in the window in front of him as she slid onto her feet to scribble on a pad of paper, her hair spilling like sunlight across one shoulder and the supple curve of her arse impossible to look away from.
Not just that, either. Her black leggings clung to the crease between flesh and thigh, highlighting all of the gorgeous dimples of her soft body.
He thought of last night again, that split second of unexpected desire he’d felt, the vision of her T-shirt clinging to her chest. Something inside him lurched like it was trying to break out of his skin.
Maybe it was just typical of him, attracted to something he couldn’t have, but when he’d finally closed his eyes at dawn, ready to shed away the night’s exhausting shift, every part of her had floated behind his lids.
His subconscious had managed to memorise things he hadn’t known he’d paid attention to: the flickers on her face when her resentment had faltered, or that dark beauty spot peeking out of her hairline.
He’d replayed their argument over and over, how close and damp and raw they’d been in that stockroom, two open wounds scraping together without restraint.
If she felt it – which, of course she didn’t, because she had a million things to focus on that weren’t him – it didn’t show, because she barely lifted her head. “Funnily enough, I was hoping for some time alone.”
“Ah. So it’s not only me you’re trying to ward away, then. Here I was thinking I was special.”
She paused, pen tapping against the desk. In the reflection, their eyes met. “It must work really well on other women.”
He tipped his head, facing her again. “What’s that?”
The end of her pen arced the length of his body in a vague motion. Even with space between them, he felt it like a knife. It drew him closer, boots creaking over damp carpet.
“The cockiness. The uniform. The flirting. The random acts of kindness and the jokes,” she listed off. “Even how seriously you take your job. It’s all very well-coordinated. Like something from a book.”
Warren bit the inside of his cheek, trying to decipher what, exactly, she was getting at. That this, he , was just some calculated act to get her into bed? Yes, he was attracted to her, but he wouldn’t dare make a move on her unless she showed some sign of welcoming it, wanting it.
Did she truly think that low of him?
“D’you honestly think I came here for a bit of fun? That I don’t have better things to be doing with my Sunday?”
She batted him away like she might a wasp buzzing around her head. “Then go and do them, by all means. I didn’t ask for you to come over here with your macho man act.”
He’d thought he’d been angry yesterday, but he now found she hadn’t even scratched the surface.
She wasn’t just rude; she was fucking cutting.
He hadn’t come here for thanks, and certainly not for anything else, but he surely deserved at least to be taken at face value.
Helping was what made him him – if she couldn’t see that then what was he doing here?
Even if she wanted to be alone, there were nicer ways to say it.
“I don’t get it. You act like you know me, like I’m just some shitebag trying to take you for a spin.
Believe me, if I were looking to mess about, you’d be the last person I’d think to come to! ”
Her round cheeks smattered with crimson as she slammed her pen and paper down on the desk. “Then why are you here ?”
“Because nobody, not even a nippy wee rocket like you, should be dealing with all this alone!” he bellowed.
When she flinched, he wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth, but it was too late. Silence crawled through the bookstore as she avoided his gaze. He wanted to turn, leave, but that thread still held him there. Had he snapped it with his outburst?
“You’re right,” she whispered finally. “You’re trying to help me, again, and I’m just …” She trailed off. “I’m not myself. I’m overwhelmed and angry, and I keep taking it out on you because you’re … you’re there . You keep being there.”
“You keep letting me,” he reminded.
“Reluctantly.”
“Still counts.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. This close, he saw a hole in her lobe where a piercing might have once lived; a freckle in the crook of her helix that made his skin feel tighter with something he couldn’t name.
Without meaning, wanting , to, his hand slid closer to hers on the counter, pizza boxes bracketing them on both sides.
He was a fool. Any sane man would have marched out the door already. He owed her nothing, and feeling unwanted was foreign, uncomfortable – something he’d rather try to change than abandon, because it wasn’t in his nature to leave problems unfixed.
If she was going to turn him away, it wouldn’t be with all these false assumptions about him.
Just when he thought she’d pull back, Eiley’s pinkie finger twitched against his, sending another zap of heat through him.
Perhaps it made him delusional, but he imagined it meant something like stay .