Chapter 4 #3
A flicker of something—discomfort? interest?
—crossed Finn’s face at the last suggestion.
Ollie wasn’t going to push, but dammit, Finn needed to realize there was nothing wrong with wanting to read about people falling in love.
“Not much science fiction. Some mysteries. Romance isn’t usually my go-to, but I’ve read some.
Mostly the bodice rippers my mom used to grab from the laundromat when I was a kid and tired of my parents only getting me children’s books. ”
“Oh, you’re missing out,” Ollie said, warming to one of his favorite topics.
Maybe if he showed that he wasn’t ashamed by his picks, Finn would quit being so damned cagey.
“There’s been an explosion of amazing work in the last few years.
Stories that would have been relegated to tiny specialty presses a decade ago or not published at all are now hitting bestseller lists, even in queer romance.
They’re nothing like the cheesy books of decades past.”
“Is that a particular interest of yours?” Finn asked carefully.
“The genre as a whole or queer romance specifically?” Ollie asked with a small smile.
“Whichever.” Finn shrugged. “You seem passionate about books, so I figure maybe I’ll take something home with me. Which do you prefer?”
“Both, actually.” Ollie had never understood people who tried to hide their love of a good romance novel.
“If I thought my parents would let me get away with it, I’d organize pop-up events where we sell nothing but romance and have themed nights to draw people in from around the area.
I’m sure there are authors who live within driving distance, and it could be good to bring them in for signing events.
They could help promote us to their readers, and we could offer a fun atmosphere without them having to haul books across the country for bigger events. ”
Finn nodded, his expression unreadable. “The bookstore has a good selection. Not just of romance, but everything. It’s rather impressive.”
“We try,” Ollie said, pride evident in his voice. “It’s important to me that people see themselves in the books we carry. Especially young people. I would have given anything to find books with characters like me when I was a teenager. That’s why I scoop up as much LGBTQ content as I can.”
“That makes sense,” Finn said quietly. “If I were going to take a book home with me, what would you recommend?”
“My absolute favorite author right now is Rhett Wilder,” Ollie continued, enthusiasm carrying him forward.
“His latest series is just—” He made a kiss gesture with his free hand.
“The characters feel real, you know? Like they could be people you pass on the street every day, carrying all these feelings beneath the surface. But they’re not everyone’s cup of tea.
He writes some of the best sex scenes I’ve ever read. ”
Something shifted in Finn’s expression—a tightening around the eyes, a slight tension in his jaw. “I haven’t read his work.”
“Oh, if you don’t mind reading about gay guys, you totally should!
” Ollie leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“His writing is so honest about how messy love can be, especially for men who’ve been taught that vulnerability is weakness.
His latest release is about a bodyguard who falls for the celebrity he’s protecting.
There’s this scene where they’re trapped in a safe house during a storm, and the power goes out.
The bodyguard has to ‘perform a thorough security check,’ which somehow involves feeling his way across every inch of the client’s body in the darkness.
” He trailed off, suddenly self-conscious about his enthusiasm.
“Sorry, I tend to get carried away when it comes to books I love.”
“Don’t apologize,” Finn said, his voice softer than before. “It’s obvious how much the books mean to you.”
The simple observation caught Ollie off guard. “Books have always been my safe place,” he admitted. “When the real world gets too complicated or too loud, I can disappear into someone else’s for a while.”
Finn nodded, his eyes meeting Ollie’s with unexpected intensity. “Sometimes books understand us better than people do.”
“Yes,” Ollie said softly. “That’s exactly it.”
The moment stretched between them. Finn’s gaze lingered a fraction of a second too long, the kind of look that made Ollie’s pulse stutter, before Brendan’s voice shattered the silence. “Finn? The drywall guys are here with questions about where you want the delivery.”
Finn blinked, shoulders squared as his professional mask slid neatly into place. “Coming.” He glanced at Ollie, something like regret in his eyes. “I should—”
“Go be competent and contractor-y,” Ollie cut in quickly, his smile feeling forced. His chest tightened, wishing for just a few more minutes alone with Finn. “I’ll be here, communing with the classic literature section.”
For a heartbeat, Finn didn’t move. Then he gave a small nod and turned away, his footsteps steady even as Ollie swore he could still feel the weight of his presence in the space between them.
Left perched on the step stool, Ollie exhaled slowly, heart drumming far louder than it had any right to. He stared after Finn, wondering what exactly had just sparked—and why it already felt like losing something when it hadn’t even begun.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of activity. The crew carefully removed damaged drywall, and Ollie worked alongside Finn to relocate boxes of books to temporary shelving.
“You’re good with them,” Ollie observed as Finn gently handled a worn first edition. “Most people grab books by the spine or cram them in any which way.”
“They matter to you,” Finn said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “So they should be treated with respect.”
Ollie’s stupid chest tightened again. At this rate, it would be impossible to not crush on Finn. Why did he have to be so dang sweet? “Thank you for noticing that.”
Their eyes met briefly, and Ollie was struck again by the depth in Finn’s gaze. Ollie felt a shifting in the air, an awareness that reached deeper than a glance had any right to. His breath caught, and he looked away first, pretending to fuss over a stack of paperbacks.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the quiet punctuated only by Ollie’s occasional comments about particular volumes or Finn’s questions about where certain boxes should go.
As they reached for the same book simultaneously, their hands collided, fingers brushing against each other.
“Sorry,” Ollie said, pulling back quickly. “I warned you. I have no sense of spatial awareness sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Finn replied, his voice slightly rougher than before. He picked up the book—a collection of poetry—and handed it to Ollie, their fingers brushing again in the exchange.
This time, neither pulled away immediately. For a heartbeat, maybe two, they remained connected by that small point of contact.
Then Brendan appeared around the corner of the bookshelf, and they separated as if burned, Ollie nearly dropping the poetry volume in his haste.
“Jesus, you two! The tension in here is thick enough to cut with a knife,” Brendan observed, leaning against the shelf with a knowing smile.
“Don’t you have drywall to tear out?” Finn asked, not meeting his brother’s eyes.
“Taking a break. It’s almost noon.” Brendan glanced between them, his smile widening. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Just trying to figure out which books to leave on display and which to pack,” Ollie said quickly, pushing his glasses up. “Very exciting stuff. The drama of proper shelving technique.”
“Riveting,” Brendan agreed solemnly. “Almost as riveting as watching you two pretend not to notice each other.”
“Brendan,” Finn said, a warning note in his voice.
“What? I’m just making an observation. As a neutral third party.” Brendan’s innocent expression fooled no one. “Anyway, the guys are talking about ordering pizza. I told them you might have other lunch plans.”
“I do?” Finn asked, confusion evident in his furrowed brow.
“Actually, I was thinking—” Ollie began, then stopped, suddenly uncertain. “That is, if you wanted… The diner down the street has great lunch specials. My treat.”
“Free lunch? I’m in,” Brendan said immediately. “Finn?”
A group lunch hadn’t been what Ollie had in mind, but he couldn’t exactly say that. Brendan seemed like a nice enough guy. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him there as a buffer.
Finn hesitated, and Ollie was certain he was about to refuse, to maintain the professional distance that seemed so important to him. But then something shifted in his expression.
“That would be…nice,” he said, the words careful but genuine. “Thank you.”
“Great! Perfect. Yes.” Ollie nodded too enthusiastically again, inwardly wincing at his obvious eagerness. “We can head over in about fifteen minutes? If that works with your schedule?”
Why in the world did everything he said come out sounding like a question? Finn probably thought he was a bumbling fool at this point.
“Works for me,” Brendan confirmed. “I’ll let Shane and Matt know they’re on their own for lunch. Back in fifteen.” He disappeared around the corner, but not before shooting Finn a look that Ollie couldn’t quite interpret.
Left alone again, they stood in awkward silence for a moment, the easy rhythm of their earlier conversation disrupted by Brendan’s teasing and their own awareness of…whatever this was between them.
“I’m sorry about him. My brother acts like a puppy sometimes. You give him a scrap of attention and he’s off,” Finn apologized. “We should finish this stack before we go.”
“Right. Yes. Good plan.” Ollie reached for another volume, careful not to let their hands touch again.
They worked quickly and efficiently, the silence between them charged but not uncomfortable.
As they placed the last few books on the shelf, Finn paused, his hand lingering on a stack of poetry collections that had been hastily moved earlier.
With careful, deliberate movements, Finn straightened the stack, aligning the spines and ensuring none of the pages were bent.
“Ready?” Finn asked, turning toward him.
Ollie nodded, not trusting his voice immediately. Then, gathering himself, he managed a smile. “Ready. Let’s go feed that brother of yours before he starts making more observations.”
Finn’s mouth twitched in that now-familiar almost-smile. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. Assumption is Brendan’s default state, no matter what he calls it.”
“Well, then we’ll give him something worth observing—the fastest consumption of a diner burger in recorded history. I’m suddenly starving.”
As they headed toward the front of the store, Ollie was acutely aware of Finn beside him. It was a dangerous observation, one that had no place in a professional relationship between a bookstore owner and his contractor.
Yet, as they stepped into the bright noon sunlight, Ollie couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between them—something small but significant, like the first word on a previously blank page.