Chapter 7 #2
“That can’t be good for the environment.”
“Jack said they put gravel in a circle around the house where grass won’t grow as easily now.” He huffs another laugh, then takes another bite.
“And the ghosts?” I ask, fascinated in spite of myself. I don’t believe in ghosts, not really, but there is something to be said for the fact that unexplained shit does happen. Though just because we don’t have explanations for them doesn’t mean ghosts are real.
“That’s why we have the huge fall festival,” he says between bites.
He eats economically, each chopstick full of fried rice a work of neat, precise art.
It’s a pretty big contrast to my messy, greasy, wonderful noodle slurping. Suddenly, I’m self-conscious.
“The fall festival…” I push, attempting to take a tidier bite.
“Yeah, Em’s hotel got written up by one of the big national travel magazines, and ever since, the autumn festival here has been a big draw for ghost buffs and people who just want a taste of fall in Texas…
even though I think we’re both adult enough to know that fall in Texas is just another hot day. ”
That makes me laugh, and I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from spitting drunken noodles all over the table.
“But yeah. Ghosts, corn mazes, hayrides, pumpkin patches, imported cider because we all know apple trees don’t like the hot weather here, carnival games and tarot readers—people come from all over to hit up our autumn festival.”
“So the sooner I could get inventory in to time the opening with that, the better,” I muse.
I’ll need to expedite everything, but with the contractor coming by tomorrow, it might be doable.
I have the money, thanks to the trust I somehow inherited.
“The one thing I did do instead of deep-diving into this town make a massive wishlist of books to order.”
I grin at him as he continues to eat.
“It felt like Christmas, or a birthday, or the best school book fair ever. I bought all the books that have been on my Tbr—”
“Tbr?” He raises a brow.
Of course he doesn’t know that word.
“To be read, it’s like… a list of all the books I want to read. Bestsellers, classics, new books, books that aren’t out yet—it’s huge and always growing.”
“That would be a good name for the store.”
“Huge and always growing?” I repeat, confused by his random pronouncement.
It’s his turn to cover his mouth while he laughs, his huge shoulders shaking.
“No, Jesus, no. To Be Read. It would be a good bookstore name, right?”
“Oh.” I brighten, thinking it over. “Wow. That’s actually, yeah. That’s really good.”
“We have a graphic designer we work with at The Salt Circle. I’ll send you her information if you want. She’s fast and affordable, and I’m sure she would put you at the front of her client queue. She was just saying how she wants to do more branding.”
“Oh, are you two close?”
He gives me a strange look, and I deserve it because I have no right to be feeling possessive over this man I just met. Not that I’m possessive.
Just scientifically curious.
About his relationship status. For absolutely no reason at all.
“No.” He says it cautiously, with the air of a question, his brow furrowed at me. “She’s a good graphic designer, but that’s the only way I know her.”
The lingering, unspoken question presses between us, and the silence stretches taut.
“Are you dating someone?” he asks, and my heart skips a beat. “In a relationship, talking to… you know.” He pauses, and I blink so hard I have half a notion my eyelids are making cartoon noises. “It might be nice to have an extra pair of hands to get set up is all.”
The last part comes out gruff, and I can’t help but snort a laugh.
“No. I’m not dating anyone. Or talking to anyone. I’ve been in survival mode while my job was in chaos for the last year, and then… well, I’m just not.”
It sounds stupid, and slightly too defensive, but Aiden relaxes, muscles going loose and liquid as he settles more deeply against the back of his chair.
I concentrate on my noodles.
They’re not nearly as interesting as the man sitting across from me. I would say they’re safer, but considering the spice level of the Thai chilis, I’m not so sure that’s true either.
“I can help out on weekends, some nights, maybe.”
My eyebrows rocket upward, and I swipe a palm over my hair, self-consciousness making my palms sweat. “You don’t have to do that. That’s too much.”
“Nah, you said you were going to convert me to being a reader. Besides, I get something out of it too.” He gives me a long, lingering look that sends heat racing to my face.
“These noodles are spicy,” I say in a choked voice. I don’t know what I want him to say. He gets to be with me? He likes me, already? No one likes anyone that fast. I scoff at myself internally.
I need him to clarify what he means. It’s going to eat at me if he doesn’t, and I’ll turn this conversation over in my head all night and wake up feeling hungover from overthinking.
“I get the distinction of being the best volunteer of the New Hopewell welcome brigade,” he says grandly, and all the tension leaks out of me.
And maybe, if I’m being truthful, it leaves a little disappointment in its wake.
It would be nice to be wanted.