Four
Tabitha
M ornings at Thistledown Books usually go pretty smoothly for a good portion of the year. I manage the store, but Valerie has been working with me full-time for over a year and two high school girls come in at three o’clock.
At Christmas time, the Kilt Valley population quadruples and then vanishes just as quickly by the second week of January. So we have seasonal help, like most businesses in town, and this is the only reason I can duck into the stockroom to check my phone—again—to see if ShreddingPages has responded to my message.
No would be the answer. I sent it at 8:35 this morning.
Bookgirl47 : Chapter 17—huge turning point for Don. He’s finally realizing that he wants to be with Rosie and seems to be opening up to new possibilities in their relationship
No one could ever accuse me of being subtle.
Wait. Is that too subtle? Is that why he hasn’t responded yet, because he doesn’t get that I’m laying groundwork for the Christmas mistletoe invitation? I can’t just come right out and ask him, especially not after Liam and I decided I should hold off.
Usually, it doesn’t take him more than an hour to ping me back. I’ve often wondered what he does, but we haven’t exchanged that kind of information yet. Our conversations are almost always about whatever we’re reading, but we did have that one side conversation about why his user name involves destroying books. I was mildly disturbed by it until he explained that shredding is a snowboarding term, which I should know since I live a stone’s throw from a mountain that has a world-class snowboard something or other, or so I’m told.
He did admit that’s one of his favorite pastimes, which makes sense for someone who lives in central Colorado. Unless he’s lying, a possibility that honestly never occurred to me because I’m a na?ve dingbat, apparently. Everything Liam said to me last night is fresh on my mind. Including the part where he called me a beautiful woman and said he doesn’t flirt with anyone who matters to him.
Does that mean I’m in that category? What do I even do with that?
Once again, I’ve devolved into thinking about Liam instead of ShreddingPages. That’s the whole reason I sent a message this morning because I thought my online crush would respond pretty quickly. A snappy conversation about The Rosie Project should get my mind centered on the correct man in this equation and it’s not Liam.
Just after 4:30, I finally get my dopamine hit in the form of a ping.
ShreddingPages : It just goes to show that great things can happen when you don’t stick to the plan. And by you, I mean Don.
The message doesn’t make any more sense the second and third time I read it. Obviously, ShreddingPages doesn’t know I have a whole plan around gearing up for our fortuitous meeting. The comment relates to the book. One hundred percent. But still, it’s odd that he tacked on the qualifier about Don. Of course I knew that’s who he meant.
When Liam arrives just after closing, he has two bags from Dean’s Diner.
“Monte Cristo?” I ask him as I close the door behind him and lock it.
“Why would you go to Dean’s and order anything else but the Monte Cristo?” He winks and I feel it in my toes.
“You wouldn’t.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re not going to bring dinner every night are you?”
“Is there a wrong answer in this scenario?” He unpacks everything on the same table from last night and sinks into his chair. I already think of it as his, probably because he lounges in it like a pro, somewhat lazily and rumpled, which is a look that I’m here to tell you works on Liam MacLellan.
Except none of that sexiness is for me. It just drips from him naturally. “Let me get it tomorrow night. I already owe you for last night.”
“I heard that this is a date. There is zero chance I will let you pay for dinner on a date, so don’t bother arguing.”
I did use that word. This is all on me. And now I don’t know what to do with my hands again. “Maybe date was the wrong thing to call it. Let’s go with coaching session. That’s much less formal and prone to giving anyone the wrong idea.”
Like me. I’m the one with the wrong idea because all at once, I get a little giddy at the thought of being on a real date with Liam. The man knows how to dazzle me, that’s for sure. Who would have thought the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach? Someone has been getting it wrong all this time.
But Liam shakes his head. “No dice. Can’t change the horse mid-stream, Tab. Eat your sandwich before it gets cold. I got you extra raspberry jam.”
I roll my eyes to cover how thrilling it is for a man to pay this much attention to details about me . “Lyra is so dead for telling you how much I like extra jam.”
Liam meets my gaze and tilts his head. “I didn’t have to ask her. You talked about Dean’s Monte Cristo at Thanksgiving.”
years ago . The reality of that has me whumping into my chair so I can follow the directions given to eat since without them, I’d still be standing there goggling. Do all men remember random table comments their sister’s friend makes?
The thing is, I don’t date much. Or at all. Anxiety around the entire concept keeps me from dipping a single foot in that water. So in a way, Liam is doing exactly what I asked him to do, albeit somewhat off-script. He designed this to help me. Help my meeting with ShreddingPages go well. Nothing more.
My shoulders relax. It’s not disappointing. It’s fabulous. More than I could have asked for. Mostly because I didn’t know to ask for it.
“Can we start Small Talk 101?” I dip my Monte Cristo in what is indeed plenty of extra jam. My tastebuds are happy.
“We already did.” Half of Liam’s sandwich has already vanished. “From the moment I walked in the door.”
“What?” My hand freezes halfway to my mouth. “You didn’t tell me that. We have to start over. I wasn’t ready.”
Liam laughs. “That’s the lesson. It’s all just talk. There is no such thing as a designated small talk time, or you’ll make everything stilted.”
That sounds like me. “But I don’t know what to say to ShreddingPages.”
Liam is quiet for a beat and not in favor of eating because he hasn’t picked up the second half of his fried deliciousness yet. “He’s just a guy, Tab. Nothing special. Talk to him like you’d talk to anyone.”
Yeah, except ShreddingPages doesn’t call me Tab, like it’s a secret nickname only Liam has figured out. It shouldn’t please me so much that he does it seemingly without design. As if I’m this whole other person in his head that no one else sees. Tab . A better, cuter version of myself that I didn’t have to do anything to become. I just am , to him.
“That’s literally impossible,” I say with a shudder that I’m going to pretend is caused by the idea of small talk, instead of the realization that ShreddingPages might not measure up to my romance coach. “I don’t talk to anyone.”
“That’s totally false. You talk to customers who come into this place all the time.”
“But that’s my job.” I scoff. “And I love talking about books.”
Liam’s brow raises. “Did I misunderstand that you met this guy in a book club? Why wouldn’t you talk to him about books?”
Oh. Boy. I blink. That’s what he was trying to tell me? That I should talk to ShreddingPages like a customer? It’s not a terrible idea. I actually like it a lot because it’s just me being me, as opposed to some contrived version of myself.
“Try it,” Liam offers, pointing at me with his sandwich.
Deep breath. “What do you like to read, Liam?”
He grins. “Does the back of the syrup bottle count?”
I roll my eyes, but he does make me laugh. “Not much of a reader? Maybe you’d like to start with graphic novels? We have several that appeal to adventurous sorts.”
For whatever reason, Liam pretends to be interested. “You mean like comic books?”
“Not even close.” I mock gasp. “Please don’t tell me you’ve never read a graphic novel. You would love Sandman by Neil Gaiman. I just got in a special edition that is a little pricey but it’s totally worth it.”
“Oh, like the Netflix series?”
“No, it’s not even remotely similar.” Launching into a detailed analysis of how the series veers from the original storyline, my own sandwich disappears before I register that I’ve been eating it this whole time.
Liam looks thoughtful. “That does sound like something I’d enjoy. How did you decide to suggest Sandman, above anything else that you carry?”
I shrug. “It’s a sweeping story about dreams and how we are shaped by them. But it’s also about the main character’s identity as an immortal, his role in his own story. You’ve always struck me as someone who is searching. I thought you might find resonance in the themes.”
Silence stretches for a beat and I wonder if I’ve completely missed the mark. But Liam just watches me, this strange, contemplative look on his face. “You’re not wrong. About any of it. It’s throwing me that you see that.”
“I pay attention at Thanksgiving too,” I say, meaning it to be a joke, but it falls flat as the atmosphere gains this heaviness I can’t describe. It’s anticipation, but almost weighty enough to pluck out of the air.
“Not many people do, though,” he murmurs, his head slightly tilted in this way he has of making it seem as if he’s fascinated with whatever you’re saying. “And you’re impressive at your job. I feel like I’ve been missing out not ever stepping foot in your store before.”
“You’re welcome any time. It’s not much. We really need to do some renovations and expand.” My voice sounds normal but my skin feels like it’s being singed off from the inside out.
By what, I can’t fathom. Liam hasn’t moved and there’s a solid three feet of space between us, but it suddenly feels like a lot less. As if this cozy nook has shrunk down, enveloping us in a blanket of…something. Awareness. There’s a different kind of glint in his eyes that the low light of the bookstore didn’t put there, or it would have been present since he walked in the door.
“I’m not done being here now,” he says and significance drapes the words.
“Would you like to see Sandman?” It would be very beneficial to have something to do with my hands other than sit here trying to figure out where to put them.
“Sure.”
Practically leaping off the chair, I hurry to the small but tasteful graphic novel section and pull the boxed special edition from its spot, ripping off the cellophane that encloses it as I head to the table. I can reseal it later with a machine we keep in the back. It’s not expressly kosher to do the ripping myself but no one has to know.
When I get back to Liam, his gaze follows me, sending odd shivers through my blood. Which shouldn’t be possible, but it absolutely is. I hold out the book.
“Will you read it to me?” Liam asks instead of reaching for it.
My insides explode in a shower of joy and wonder.
This is one of my all-time favorite secret fantasies—reading with a guy. It should be innocuous, but it’s not. I’m so aware of Liam that my teeth hurt. Sparks fly between us when he leans in to view the artwork as I speak Mr. Gaiman’s story into existence. Liam and I share something so incredibly intimate, but innocent at the same time. Which makes it all the more… more .
When I finish the first issue in Volume I, I glance up to see that Liam isn’t absorbing the graphics like he should be. His gaze is on me.
“You’re right. I like it,” he murmurs and clears his throat, standing all at once. “See, that wasn’t so difficult. You’ll be able to talk to your book club guy with no fake small talk topics needed.”
Everything snaps into focus as if I’ve been in a dreamy underwater world. Or under a spell. The heaviness flees and I also stand because it seems like I should. “Great. Thanks. Great practice session. It was…great.”
I’m babbling. Mostly because nothing that happened tonight had anything to do with practice. Or ShreddingPages.
I forgot he even existed.