14. Presley
Presley
By eleven fifteen, I’ve looked at the door seventeen times.
Not that I’m counting.
The bell above The Crooked Spine’s front door jingles, and my head snaps up.
An elderly man walks inside.
I immediately look back at the stack of books in front of me.
Pathetic.
Penny lifts her head from the bed Margaret brought in for her this morning.
“You don’t need to get up.”
Her tail moves.
“It’s not him.”
She yawns.
“You're judging me.”
Penny puts her head back down.
I slide another book onto the cart.
I'm not waiting for Hades. That would be ridiculous. I've known the man for approximately twenty minutes.
Twenty extremely memorable minutes, but still.
So what if he bought a book? People buy books every day.
That doesn't mean they come back twenty-four hours later to discuss them with the woman who sold it to them.
Especially men who look like Hades.
I pause.
What exactly does a man who looks like Hades normally do?
Brood?
Intimidate people?
Stand in dark corners looking vaguely homicidal?
Definitely not spend his afternoons browsing romance novels.
I smile despite myself.
I still can't believe he bought it because I recommended it. That shouldn't make me this happy.
The bell jingles again.
My gaze immediately flies toward the door.
Two women walk inside.
Goddammit.
I turn back to the cart.
Margaret appears beside me. “You waiting for someone?”
I answer much too quickly. “No.”
Her eyebrows raise. She doesn’t look convinced.
“Then why do you look disappointed every time that door opens?”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
I grab another book. “I'm very invested in our customers.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am.”
“Yesterday you didn't nearly break your neck looking at everyone who walked through the door.”
“I didn't nearly break my neck.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiles. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m not.”
“You walked into the cart ten minutes ago.”
“That was unrelated.”
She laughs.
I narrow my eyes. “Don't you have bookstore-owner things to do?”
“I’m doing one.”
“What?”
“Observing my employee.”
I laugh. “Creepy.”
“Educational.”
I point toward her office.
She laughs and walks away.
Penny's tail thumps against her bed.
“You're both annoying.”
I resume shelving books.
And I absolutely do not look at the door again.
For almost four minutes.
At twelve thirty, Margaret waves me away from the register.
“Go eat.”
“I'm not hungry.”
My stomach immediately growls.
She looks at me.
I give her a sheepish grin.
Margaret laughs. “Take your lunch.”
I grab my coat.
Penny immediately gets up. I grab her leash and hook it on her collar.
“You want to go see Walter?”
She jumps against my leg.
Margaret and I both laugh.
“Let’s go.”
Five minutes later, we're walking toward Bramble & Bean.
The October air is cold enough that I shove one hand into my coat pocket while holding Penny's leash with the other.
“Coffee and food.”
Penny trots beside me.
“Actual food. Not a pumpkin muffin.”
She looks up.
“Okay. Maybe also a pumpkin muffin.”
Her tail wags.
“You're such an enabler.”
Bramble & Bean is busy when we arrive.
The lunch crowd fills most of the tables, and the scent of coffee hits me the second I open the door.
I move to the back of the line, inhaling cinnamon, something sweet baking, and the faint woodsmoke from the crackling fire.
“Presley!” Gracie waves at me, then immediately bumps her hip against something behind the counter. A metal pitcher of espresso tips. She barely catches it.
“Testing my reflexes.”
I grin. “Excellent reflexes.”
“Thank you.”
I laugh and lead Penny toward the counter when the line moves.
After I order, Gracie comes over and asks, “How’s the new job? Still going well?”
I nod. “I love it.”
Her smile widens. “I knew you would.”
“Don't start sounding like Stella. I can only handle one woman with supernatural employment predictions.”
Gracie laughs. “The Crooked Spine suits you.”
“It really does.” I begin heading toward the pick-up counter to wait for my drink. Penny suddenly stops. I nearly trip over her.
“What—”
But she’s not looking at me.
Her tail starts wagging.
Then she pulls. Hard.
“Penny!”
My gaze follows hers. And everything inside me goes still.
Hades.
He's sitting alone at a table near the back.
A coffee sits in front of him. And beside it—
My lips part as I suck in a breath.
The book.
The fucking romance novel I recommended.
He's reading it.
Hades is actually sitting inside Bramble & Bean, reading the dark romance he bought from me yesterday.
Something ridiculously warm unfurls inside my chest.
As though he feels me staring, his head lifts. Smoky eyes find mine across the room.
My breath catches.
His expression doesn't change much.
But something subtle in his eyes does. A flash of recognition. Followed by interest. Maybe even pleasure at seeing me.
My stomach flips.
Stop it. We're not getting excited because the terrifyingly hot stranger is happy to see us.
But Penny has other plans.
She’s still pulling, trying to tug me toward him.
“Penny. We don’t even have our food or drink.”
She doesn’t care. She’s tugging like she’s pulling a sled.
Hades closes the book. The corner of his mouth lifts. That tiny almost-smile is somehow worse than a real one.
My heart starts pounding.
Damn it. I said we’re not doing this.
I'm not sure whether I'm talking about Penny or my heart. Probably both.
Penny drags me the rest of the way over.
“Apparently she remembers you.”
Hades looks down at her. “I remember her, too.” His gaze returns to mine. “And you.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
Jesus.
“Hi.” It comes out breathless.
Brilliant, Presley. Absolutely dazzling conversational skills. Now he probably thinks you’re some horndog fawning all over him.
This time, he gives me a small smile. “Hi.”
Everything around me fades.
The noise. The people. The coffee shop.
Gone.
Penny puts her front paws against his leg, and I snap out of the daze I’m in.
Hades reaches down and scratches behind her ears.
I stare at the closed book. There’s even a bookmark in it.
“You're actually reading it.”
He glances at the cover. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“I didn't think you'd make it past chapter two.”
“Why chapter two?”
“You don’t exactly strike me as a romance reader.”
He shrugs. “I'm not.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He lifts the book. “Apparently I am now.”
I smile.
“How far are you?”
“Far enough.”
“That sounds ominous.”
His eyes hold mine. “It's interesting.”
Something about the way he says it makes warmth creep over my skin.
“Interesting as in it’s good, or interesting as in what the fuck did Presley make me read?”
“Both.”
I laugh.
His attention drops briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. The movement is so quick I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“Do you like it?”
He studies me for a beat, his expression intense. “I understand why someone would.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“No.”
My hopes deflate. “No, you don't like it?”
“No, that wasn't your question.”
I stare at him.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
Oh. He's messing with me.
Hades—the man I mentally categorized yesterday as someone who probably scares children merely by existing—is teasing me.
And I like it.
Way more than I should.
“So... do you like it?”
“I haven't decided.”
I glance at the bookmark. “You're halfway through it.”
“Doesn't mean I've decided.”
“You're stubborn.”
“So I've been told.”
I smile.
But it fades when I realize I'm standing beside his table like some weird woman who followed him into a coffee shop.
Except I didn't.
I came here for lunch. He was already here.
Which means—He didn't come looking for me.
The disappointment is immediate. And completely stupid.
I barely know him.
Why would he come looking for me?
“Anyway.” I gesture toward the counter. “I'll let you get back to it.”
Something changes in his expression. “You don't have to.”
My pulse jumps. “What?”
He nods toward the empty chair across from him. “Sit.”
One word. That's it.
Not Would you like to sit?
Not You're welcome to join me.
Just sit.
I should probably find that annoying.
Instead, heat curls low in my stomach.
Of course it does. Apparently my self-preservation instincts have taken the week off.
I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “I came over for lunch.”
“So eat.”
“You're very bossy.”
“I've been called worse.”
“I believe that.”
His mouth almost curves again.
Penny has already settled beside his chair.
“You're no help.”
Her tail thumps against the floor.
Hades pushes the chair out across from him with his boot.
My eyes move from the chair to him.
Every sensible part of me says this man is intimidating. Secretive. Probably trouble.
And yesterday I specifically warned myself not to fall for the first terrifyingly hot stranger who walked into the bookstore.
I look at the chair.
Then at Hades.
It's only lunch.
That's all.
Two people having lunch.
In public.
With approximately twenty witnesses and one infatuated dachshund.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Presley.”
I turn at the sound of my name.
“Your order’s ready.”
I turn back to Hades. “Let me go get that.”
His eyes stay on mine as he reaches over and takes Penny’s leash from my hand. “I'll be here.”
I turn toward the counter before he can see how much those three stupid words affect me.
Gracie is watching us. Her eyebrows are somewhere near her hairline.
I approach the counter and hiss, “Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
She glances over my shoulder toward Hades. Then back at me. “Who's your friend?”
“He's not my friend.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He came into the bookstore yesterday.”
She stares at me. “And now he's here.”
“Yes.”
“With the book you sold him.”
“You noticed that.”
She smirks. “Hard not to.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
She just looks at me. “And you're having lunch together.”
“Just coffee.”
She looks down at the bag of food in her other hand.
“Then what’s this?”
I sigh. “Lunch with a side of morals that prevent me from strangling nosy baristas.”
She holds up my food and coffee in a gesture of surrender.
I laugh despite myself.
I glance over my shoulder. Hades has reopened the book.
But he isn't reading.
He's watching me.
A shiver travels down my spine.
For some reason, it feels strangely familiar.
I take my order from her and turn toward Hades.
The way he’s watching me should scare me.
And it does.
But there’s something thrilling about being the focus of a predator’s attention.
Something that makes me want to move closer instead of run.
And that’s even scarier.