Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After giving him a week to settle in, by Betsy Decree, my job for now is to train Flint on how to work the bookshop.
Which would normally not be an issue except I’m stupidly attracted to him and I can feel him watching me when I’m engaged with patrons.
And yes, I am in fact saying that as though I’m not watching him at every possible opportunity too.
He also finds small ways to touch me throughout the day, always careful to gauge my reaction, to make sure he isn’t being too forward.
Considering the steamy kiss we’ve already shared, I don’t feel like he’s being forward enough, but I appreciate the sentiment.
At home, he’s largely the perfect gentleman (so far at least), although even there he finds reasons and opportunities to give me a friendly kisses on the cheek or forehead, or wrap me in those strong arms for a quick hug.
To my surprise, given that the man claims to be from a fictional made up place I created, he picks up on things around the shop quickly.
I’ve avoided picking his brain about Goira and what happens there for a multitude of reasons. One, being that I’m pretty sure either he’s crazy, or I am, and I don’t really want to find out which it is. For another, I don’t want his answers to change the story I’m trying to write.
Ever since Flint started sleeping on my couch, I sleep incredibly well and wake up feeling refreshed.
Maybe it’s the fallacy of belief that a man being in the apartment means I’m protected and, therefore, I can relax fully and sleep deeper.
Maybe sexual frustration and unrequited attraction makes for a great sleep aid. I don’t know.
The writing has been going surprisingly well.
I do know that my scenes seem to be coming a lot easier since he appeared in my life.
Maybe it’s just easier to write about a hot warrior man when there’s one camped out reading ten feet away most evenings.
Maybe it’s easier to write when your brain cells aren’t sleep deprived.
Either way, it’s been going well. Not “I have a cohesive story line” well, but well enough.
It’s still an improvement and I’m choosing to focus on that.
Silver lining and all that happy optimist bullshit.
Flint and Annemarie hit it off right away, which had been a mild concern.
Annemarie was so warm and welcoming when I stumbled across my job here that we’d quickly become best friends.
She has a bohemian hippie vibe about her, which camouflages her bloodthirsty and slightly terrifying personality.
Despite the fact that many men – and quite a few women – find her intimidating, she always seems to have a steady supply of dates.
I should have known better than to think she’d intimidate Flint.
They’ve bonded and he grants her cautious respect.
She, in turn, gives me meaningful looks behind his back, including eyebrow wiggles.
She pinned me in the cafe one day last week, insisting that she could make me a charm bag so I could “hit that”.
I wished to melt and disappear into a puddle of mortified goo, but alas, that was not a wish granted.
Instead, I had dumbly shook my head. Annemarie had tossed her glorious fall of hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes on me.
“You think I don’t see you watching him?
You think I don’t see him watching you back?
I know what I know, girl, and that man is smitten.
You’re already living together. It’s just a matter of time.
Personally, I think you should’ve given him a long ride before letting him move in. ” She smiled wickedly.
Thankfully, at that point, Calida – somehow hidden from view – had popped out of one of the cupboards that Annemarie keeps her baking supplies in and caused enough of a ruckus with Annemarie’s following meltdown that I was able to escape that conversation.
It also doesn’t hurt that Flint’s charm and good looks is bringing in business. There has been a definite increase in the female population who visit the bookshop on a daily basis. If I were a jealous person, it would probably bother me that so many stop in just to check out my… roommate.
Right. We’re just roomies.
Having him able to pitch in means two things.
One, there’s someone else to try to rein in Betsy’s antics, for which I am forever grateful.
Annemarie thinks they’re fucking hilarious, so she’s far more likely to add fuel to the fire than actually assist in stopping them.
Second, it allows me a little more freedom in my days.
I’m able to bring my laptop to write at work now, something that had never occurred to me before.
The solution was suggested by Flint, followed by Betsy’s whole-hearted approval.
His being here also allows me time to myself, especially now that I’m living with a man for the first time in my life.
Honestly, that hasn’t been as much of an adjustment as I thought it would be.
Flint is a great roommate, or he has been so far.
He’s tidy and takes care of his own messes, which is something I had worried about after overhearing so many young women discussing their husbands and boyfriends.
Not that I’m a clean freak, but his belongings are definitely better cared for and cleaner than mine. At least he’s not adding to my mess.
He’s great about helping with meals and, one potato catastrophe aside, he’s a much better cook than I, although that doesn’t say a lot.
He is intent on feeding me and, since what he makes beats the ramen or cold cereal I was feeding myself regularly, I’m not going to complain.
Most evenings, he is content to read or watch something on streaming services whilst I work on writing, or pretend to, while simultaneously pretending that I’m not watching him.
Last week, at Betsy’s insistence, (“What happens if there’s an emergency?
!”) I took Flint out and helped him get a cell phone.
Due to his lack of ID and my lack of funding, Betsy signed the paperwork to have him added to her company plan.
After explaining how a phone worked, we spent the next three evenings teaching him how to use it to contact me, to contact Betsy, etc.
I never thought I’d be in the position to teach a soldier to use a smartphone, let alone how to text or Google something.
After some trial and error, he is proficient enough to look up YouTube videos, scroll TikTok and send messages to the two of us.
This week, Calida declared that she is tired of his silent reading.
Despite the fact that she can hear him reading to himself, she has decided that it won’t do unless he is also willing to read her a book too.
Out loud. So the two of them took to Google to try to find books that would be appropriate for “an adolescent dragon”.
Unsurprisingly, the search results left a lot to be desired, so what did they do? They turned to their favorite bookshop.
“You want what sort of rec?” Betsy asks. I pray she isn’t actually paying attention to the conversation. We haven’t actually discussed Calida yet and I still don’t know how to approach the topic with her.
“What would you recommend to a teenage girl?”
Betsy seems to consider. I’m waiting with bated breath because, given her love of all things smutty, this should be good.
“Did you have any ideas?” She finally asks.
He places a book with a cartoon cover on the counter. “I found this and it looked kid friendly. I mean… they’re animated.”
I quickly step in. I know that book.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” Betsy asks. Is she for real?
“Bits, that book is hella explicit. All the spice. For you, fine. For a teen? Absolutely not.”
Betsy rolls her eyes. “Who are you to judge?”
“I’m the one who will be dealing with an angry parent if you go around recommending “why choose” books to teenagers!”
“They have to learn sometime,” she mutters. “How else will they ever embrace experimenting and their sexual freedom? Fucking patriarchy.”
“Bits.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I love you. I do. But you cannot make these recommendations to children! We’ll end up with an angry mob out front. Complete with torches and pitchforks. No, thanks.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Fine. I’ll keep my recommendations to adults, just to appease you.”
I give her an extra squeeze. “Appreciate it.”
Flint eyes both of us, warily. “So… this is not the book I should choose?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll find something more appropriate. Come on.”
I led him over to the young adult section. “Anything here should be… more along the lines of what you’re looking for.”
I refuse to address the purely selfish motivation of not being able to handle hearing this man read spicy scenes out loud. Just living in close proximity with him has me crawling out of my skin some days. I can’t imagine what hearing him read a smut scene would do to me.
While I’m studying Flint and allowing myself to imagine what it would be like to be with him, a voice clears behind me.
I start, because being busted having steamy thoughts in public is not embarrassing at all. Whirling around, I bite back a groan and force a grimace. I really hope it passes for a customer service smile.
“Brett.”
“Hey, Cas!” Brett flashes that too bright smile at me. “I heard a new band is coming through and playing this weekend. I got us tickets. How about I pick you up at six on Saturday? We can go for dinner, have some drinks, some fun.”