Chapter 12
Libby
It’s not the walk of shame if you’re walking out of your own book shop right?
In my defense, we also didn’t have sex. He got me off (like I have never gotten off in my life mind you) but we didn’t actually fuck. Though I am pretty sure it was headed there. On that note, I make a mental note to erase the security camera footage. Maybe after watching it…
The last thing I expected while organizing the travel section books was for Dax to walk in.
And thanks to late night hormones and a rail ladder, the travel section isn’t the only thing that got re-organized.
There was also a lot of traveling too. Traveling hands, traveling lips, traveling to other subspaces in time while his tongue made me come so hard I’m pretty sure I left the planet.
I wonder if there’s a passport stamp for that.
“So let me get this straight,” Summer says as we rearrange the rom-com table.
We have a monthly book club coming in this evening and they’ll be looking for their next spicy book after they discuss the dirty details of the last one and I want to make sure they have good options.
Meanwhile, Summer and I are discussing my dirty details.
“You were working overtime, as you do, and he just walked in, unannounced and ravished you?”
In a word? “Pretty much.”
“Damn. You know I have been on seven dates this month. Seven. Four from dating apps, two from the Irish pub down the street and one from board game night at the brewery in Fenway and I’ve gotten no action.”
“None at all?” I ask, focusing on the brightly colored books in front of me. Meanwhile, my cheeks flush. I’ll never see this ladder the same.
“Unless you count Felix trying to kiss me and missing all because he had an allergy attack and started sneezing. He ended up cutting the date short because he left his inhaler in his car and his car was parked in a tow zone. Those are the kinds of men I end up with. Meanwhile, you get railed standing in the same place every day all day. Maybe it’s Mercury. I think it might be in the microwave.”
I arch an eyebrow at, honestly, that entire speech. Tom comes around the corner with another stack of romance books to add to the display.
“She means retrograde,” he says, sniffing hard. “And allergies are real. Romantic or not.”
“Yeah well, Felix’s lack of Claritin basically cock blocked me so…”
“Would you have really slept with him?” Tom asks, handing her the books and pulling a hanky out of his pocket. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that he’s a hanky man. None of this surprises me to be honest. But all of it is beside the point.
“I think we’ve derailed the topic,” I cut in.
“Right. You and the new boss got down and dirty in the bookshop,” Summer mutters like it’s a direct offense that I’m getting action and she’s not.
Not that I can understand why. She’s very cute.
With her dark hair, choppy bangs, chunky sweaters and never-ending array of striped and polka dotted stockings, she’s a great catch– if you like the nerdy, bookish type.
“Where did the two of you have coitus anyways?” Tom asks, between nose blows. “So, I can avoid the general area until it’s been sanitized.
My blush deepens and I shake my head, focusing my attention on making sure all the books on the table are straight.
“Have you been on any dates recently?” Summer asks him.
“Not as of late,” he answers, shoving his hanky back in the pocket of his slim cut Dockers.
“Probably because you use words like coitus,” she jabs. He doesn’t smile.
This is what I have to work with.
“It’s not important. Also, we didn’t fuck,” I say, and they both look at me.
Summer crinkles her cute nose. “Really?”
“Nope. I mean, we were going to. But we got interrupted.”
“By whom?” Tom asks. “The store wasn’t open.”
“No, it was not. But his phone was open to calls because once it went off, he just left.”
“Who was it?” Tom asks.
“A woman?” Summer asks.
“Delilah,” I answer.
“That skank,” Summer shakes her head. Then, “Who’s Delilah?”
“A woman whose identity is still a mystery. But her name has popped up on his phone more than once,” I say.
“Sounds important,” Tom says.
“Sounds skanky,” Summer sneers.
“You know what?” I cut in. “It doesn’t matter.
Because he doesn’t matter. We fucked around and it was good and in the end, I’m the one who benefited from it.
I had the ladder to lean on while he sucked my soul clean out of my body.
He’s probably got bruises on his knees from all his time spent on the floor. He’s the loser here, not me.”
Both of them glide their eyes over to the ladder.
Summer bites back a smile. “Yeah you did…”
Tom frowns. “I’ll get the Lysol.”
With that, both Summer and I laugh, making our way to the counter. “So, what are you going to do?” Summer asks, reaching under the counter for her coffee from earlier.
“Nothing,” I give a one shouldered shrug. “Because nothing is going on. And nothing happened.”
“Well right now Tom is sanitizing nothing off the ladder over there which to me, a dateless nun, sounds a whole lot like something.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “Because we shouldn’t have done anything even if it was good,” more like great.
“Are you sure about that?” she asks.
“As long as Delilah and Poppy don’t stop blowing up his phone, yes. I am quite sure. I’ve made the mistake once–”
“Twice…” Tom’s voice chimes in between sprays of Lysol.
“Fine, twice. And it’s not going to happen again,” I say with as much resolve as I can muster. “For real. Who does he think he is anyways? Just because he has money and good looks and women chasing him day and night–”
“Daxton Andrew Hemingway,” Summer says his full name, and I look over to her scrolling on her phone.
“Wait. What are you doing?” I ask.
“You said who does he think he is? So, I’m looking him up.”
I let out a sigh and pull the duster out, sifting off surfaces so I can appear to be uninterested. Even though my peripheral is very much flashing over to her screen every few seconds.
“What’s it say?” I ask.
“CEO of Hemingway books. Business tycoon. Has been on the cover of Forbes.”
“Of course he has,” I mutter, dusting harder. “What else does it say?”
“Personal info is harder to find. No social media.”
“At all?” I ask.
“Zilch. Except…he was tagged on Facebook a few years back. By a woman.”
“Is her name Delilah?” I mutter.
“Tess,” she answers.
I stop and hover over Summer’s phone screen with her. It’s a photo of Dax and a woman. She’s blonde, younger than him but older than me. They’re both smiling. She looks wholesome and he looks happy. A happy I haven’t seen on him before. He also has less gray hair.
“Must be an ex,” I say with forced disinterest.
“Unless she’s not an ex,” Tom says, and we both look at him.
His expression shifts from indifferent to guilty.
“What? Men like that, from my experience as a commonplace man, a four on the hotness scale as I’ve been told by many a Tinder woman, aren’t usually monogamous. He might be in a relationship.”
“Oh my god, he might be married!” Summer blurts out. “What a dick.”
“He’s not married!” I say. “I don’t think. I don’t know! Jesus, put your phone away. None of this matters and you know why? He means nothing to me. He’s just an asshole businessman who happens to be friends with my brother–”
“Who is almost kind of a jerk,” Tom mutters.
“And I don’t care if he is with Tess or Delilah or Poppy or anyone else because I am not involving myself with him anymore.”
Both of them stare at me and I’m worried the conversation isn’t over. Hell, even I don’t know if I believe me. But luckily, my phone buzzes with a text from Joni. I read it as I make my way to the front of the store to flip the OPEN sign.
Joni- Hey girl! Just wanted to make sure we are good for the bookfair.
Honestly, I almost forgot. Which is so unlike me. The elementary book fair is one of my favorite events of the year and I always make a point of helping out. Not only does it boost sales, but it also surrounds me with children, which is just icing on the cake.
Libby- Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.
Joni- Great, I’ll make sure the board knows. Any new adventures in Boss Land?
I purse my lips before taking in a breath and holding it. The whole point of this book fair is that I don’t have to see him. Or deal with him. Or talk or even think about him.
Libby- Nope. He’s still a dick.
I shove my phone back in my pocket. And as my usual patrons trickle into the store, I let myself forget about him. Because Daxton Hemingway doesn’t matter to me. He can’t.
I won’t let him.