Chapter Five
Dickens
Goddamn arrogant asshole.
Referring to yourself or him?
Or both?
Fuck off.
I often held epic discussions with myself in my head, and apparently today was going to be one of those days. I pushed through the front door, only belatedly realizing I hadn’t locked it when I stormed out to confront Spike. Holy shit. Someone could’ve come along and taken everything while I was fucking Spike against the wall.
And fucking was the right word. I’d let the animal side of my brain take over. Gave in to the need to dominate. To claim. To own.
Which made no sense. I was angry with the man for playing rock music half the night. That in no way explained why I’d felt the need to be inside him as quickly as I could.
I halted mid-stride.
But it’d felt so good.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been intimate with someone.
A hookup during the winter, if I remembered correctly.
Some random guy I met on Davie Street in Vancouver when I’d been lonely and headed into the big city to scratch an itch.
I’d wound up back at random guy’s apartment and we’d had a night of fun.
In the morning, when I’d slunk away, I hadn’t offered my phone number, and he hadn’t asked for it.
Before that? I’d been seeing a guy regularly from Chilliwack.
Not exactly long distance, but not convenient either, especially during the rainy season.
I wasn’t one for adventure.
Nope.
I was here, and I was content.
I needed for nothing. I was comfortable with my life. Did I jerk off a lot? Yes. Did I wish for a warm body? Sure. Was I going to beg motorcycle dude to get sweaty and naked in my sheets?
Fuck, no.
The bells drew my attention. Sunshine stepped into the store with the sun streaming in behind her. The light drew the blueish tinge from her hair. All natural. The woman was stunning. And brilliant. And funny and kind and had a dozen other wonderful attributes.
Colton Pritchard is an asshole.
She removed her sunglasses, gave me the once-over, smiled, and said, “Well, glad to see someone got lucky this morning.”
Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t… Too late. Heat raced from my chest up my neck and spread across my cheeks.
She winked. Then meandered over to the window where she cooed and petted my ever-grateful cat.
Ari stretched then head-butted Sun’s hand.
I spun around. “Coffee?”
I said the word as I headed into the back room.
“Oh, darn.”
I turned back to see her escaping out the front door. What now?
I didn’t have long to wait as she returned with two Starbucks cups and a little paper bag. She handed me the bag and the cup. “Chocolate croissant, heated up.”
These were my favorite, but I was never comfortable with her buying me things. Did I pick up things for her? Sure. But she was my employee. That, and chocolate croissants held a lot of calories.
“To make up for all the energy you expended when you…”
She cocked her head and this time the blush crept across her face.
For one horrible moment, I worried she envisioned the whole thing. She wasn’t psychic, but she was a sensitive. Her ability to sense emotions, no matter how hidden, was prescient. That and knowing the gender of babies, forecasting good gossip, and predicting who was likely to break up.
Too bad she didn’t see her own marriage ending.
But she’d always admitted to having a blind spot for herself and the clearest view of her sisters. The rest of the world fell somewhere in the middle, and that meant she meddled far more than was wise.
Finally, at length, she smiled. A wicked grin. A little more than I was accustomed to. “Well, I told you that you’d be compatible.”
With that, she pivoted to flip the open sign and headed into the back room. “I’m jacking up the air conditioning. It’s going to be a barn burner, as they say. You should plan to take a few bottles of cold water over to your new boyfriend.”
I wasn’t sure which part of that sentence annoyed me more—the fact she wanted me to take care of him, or the fact she believed we formed some kind of relationship after one fuck.
Still, her comments weren’t easily discounted.
She claimed she couldn’t predict the future, but that wasn’t true.
I could think of two or three—or more—times in the past ten years when she’d been right on the nose about something.
Something unpredictable. Even things that’d been unlikely or, in one case, I would’ve said impossible. Funny, after all this time, I’d learned to roll with it. To accept she saw the universe in ways I never could.
Would it be great if she could predict sports-team wins or the stock market or the winning lottery ticket numbers? Of course.
Would I settle for the heads-up that my parents were planning to retire, and I needed to prepare to take over the business? Yeah, that warning from her came at the perfect time.
I’d been contemplating a few things that’d take me away from Mission City.
And my parents would’ve encouraged me.
But that would’ve meant putting off their dreams, and I’m so glad Sun stuck her nose in it. I later discovered my parents had said nothing to her. She’d just known.
Whatever.
A motorcycle engine revved.
Sunshine passed by me and laid a hand on my shoulder.
Yeah, today was going to be a long day.
Yet silence reigned after that, and I settled into my work.
Miss Edna paid us an unexpected visit. The woman was eighty if she was a day.
She’d taught almost fifty years in the Mission City district and, although she retired before I started, I’d heard stories.
She spent most of her time hanging out at the library these days, where the librarians Loriana and Marnie took good care of her.
Few items caught her fancy that she couldn’t get from the library, but occasionally I was able to find something that was too obscure for the library to be able to justify acquiring.
They were always on a tight budget.
“Good morning, Miss Edna.”
She waved her cane in my direction and headed for one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.
Immediately, as soon as she settled, Ari leapt onto the arm and demanded scritches.
Miss Edna was always very happy to oblige my nosy cat.
“Could I make you a cup of tea?”
She waved me off, but then held up her hand. “Do you have iced tea?”
“Of course.”
Powder and not great tasting, but she’d had it before and hadn’t complained. In fact, in all the years I’d known her, I couldn’t remember her ever saying anything untoward.
I prepared the iced tea, adding plenty of ice, and came back out into the store.
Miss Edna sat with Ari in her lap. The cat purred loudly and the elderly lady had her eyes closed.
I was about to place the glass on a coaster on the side table, when her eyes popped open. She held out a shaky hand, and I gave her the glass. She’d never spilled anything, but I wouldn’t care if she did.
She had free rein in this place. Always had and always would.
“What can I help you with today?”
“I’m looking for something special for Marnie.”
The younger librarian.
“Well, I’m sure we can help.”
“I want the newest R.D. Watts book.”
“Okay.”
I weighed my next words. “I’m quite certain the library bought multiple copies.”
She waved her hand. “Of course they did. But I want to get a copy of the limited-edition book. Autographed, of course.”
“Of course.”
Didn’t everyone? The books were a hot commodity, and everyone was clamoring for a copy. “I don’t see why you think I can help.”
“Rainbow went to school with Raven.”
Ah, so she thought my employee had the inside track because her sister knew the author. That might be possible, but Sunshine would never try to work that angle.
Raven had a standing invitation to read here whenever she wanted and to do signings whenever it tickled her fancy. She rarely did either.
The first couple of books she published under the penname had gone unnoticed.
Oh, Mission City residents enjoyed the books—they just didn’t know the author was in their midst.
An intrepid reporter in town, Sunshine’s younger sister Spring, figured it out. She was taking a class at the University of the Fraser Valley where Raven instructed. Spring nabbed an essay written by her prof, picked up her copy of R. D. Watts’s book, and fed them into a machine-learning-software program that she begged for time on.
I heard she might’ve traded favors, although obviously not the sexual kind.
Or I hoped not.
Anyway, the computer confirmed Spring’s hypothesis.
She managed to convince the editor of the Mission City Dispatch to run with the story.
They asked for Raven’s comment.
When she saw she was about to be outed, she fessed up.
From then on, we couldn’t keep the shelves stocked.
Fans flocked from everywhere for a chance to see Raven or get a signed copy.
If I thought she was comfortable, I’d have asked her to sign every copy.
But she was reticent. Partly because she wanted to keep the copies she did sign exclusive, and partly because she couldn’t fathom why so many people wanted signed copies. Despite her success, the woman was humble.
Or played herself off as such.
“I didn’t realize Marnie was such a fan.”
Miss Edna shrugged. “Young lady would never say as much, but I can tell. When she thinks I’m not looking, I’m observing her.”
Sounds creepy to me.
Still, a sale was a sale, and anything that made Miss Edna happy earned me brownie points in the cosmic universe. “I’ll talk to Sunshine.”
More likely I’d talk to Raven directly, but I didn’t want Miss Edna thinking she could use me as a conduit.
“Talk to Sunshine about what?”
The woman herself exited the backroom with a small stack of children’s books to restock the shelf.
“About getting Raven to sign her latest book so I can give it to Marnie Jones.”
Sunshine beamed. “Well, I’m not close with her, but I’ll give it a shot. Marnie’s a fan, eh? Cool.”
She paused. “How’s your stomach doing?”
Miss Edna scowled. “It’s fine. Impertinent question.”
“Make an appointment with Dr. Raymond.”
Sunshine gave the older woman a sincere smile. “The good doctor hasn’t heard from you for a while, so you’re due.”
With that, she swished away on a swirl of her long, flowing, flowery skirt.
The sound Miss Edna made sounded like a combination of a harrumph and interfering woman muttered under her breath.
Yet somehow, deep in my gut, I knew she’d make the phone call. And that it’d be in her best interest to do so. “Were you wanting something for Loriana as well?”
Miss Edna shook her head. “It’s Marnie’s birthday.”
I cocked my head. “How’d you find that out?”
“I have my ways.”
The young librarian was one of the most intensely private people I’d ever met, so that piqued my curiosity. “When do you need it by?”
“Next Friday.”
Which gave me a week and a half. As long as Raven didn’t mind, I’d give it my best shot. I’d drop Miss Edna’s name. Maybe even Marnie’s. For all her aloofness, Raven liked helping members of the community.
“In the meantime, would you like me to pick something for you? I have several new large-print books, including a romance from a Vancouver Island author.”
She eyed me. Then, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, she sighed. “I can’t anymore. Even with the special glasses. The glaucoma is too far advanced.”
I’d noticed her irises getting cloudy but hadn’t commented.
“Would you like me to download an audiobook onto my iPod for you?”
She shook her head and withdrew one from her rather large purse. “Someone donated several to the library, and those nice young girls let me keep this one. On loan.”
Probably permanently. If I thought the offer wouldn’t be rejected, I’d happily buy her one. “What are you listening to?”
She looked around. “That young Marnie has me hooked on J.D. Robb novels.”
I saw nothing scandalous in those. “Oh?”
“They have sex.”
Ah. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, just wave, and Sunshine or I will be happy to help. Washroom’s in the back.”
Employee only, but I’d never tell her that. Whatever she needed, we provided.
She inserted her earphones, waved me off, and hit play.
I’d no notion of how long she’d stay, but that was fine. I gave Ari a subtle nod, and the cat blinked back lazily at me. Miss Edna couldn’t have a pet at the congregate living facility—which I thought was a travesty—so she’d adopted Ari. She visited often, claiming she worried the cat was lonely.
Yeah, the cat who had humans doing her bidding twenty-four/seven? Unlikely.
As my presence was no longer required, I headed to the computer behind the counter. I did my best to compose an email that didn’t sound desperate, but also conveyed the gravity of the request. Hopefully Raven would respond shortly, and I’d know one way or the other.
A motorcycle revved.
Yeah, I was in for another long day.