Chapter 4
He came back the next day.
Thursday.
Said he was looking for a book for his friend’s son.
Something age-appropriate, but not boring.
Something that would keep the kids’ attention.
Something that sounded like it could have been real, if he hadn’t come in already looking like he knew I’d be there.
I helped him find something, and once again, he lingered.
Not to flirt. Not overtly.
Just to talk.
He asked about genres, authors, and how people felt about some of the hyped big-name authors. Asked me what I was reading, if I believed in happy endings... in fairytales.
I couldn't remember anyone ever asking me that before.
It seemed to start off harmless.
Friendly.
Sweet.
Until he looked at me like he was learning me on purpose.
He came back again on Friday.
This time, it was a gift for a friend. A birthday.
But again, he asked more questions than he answered.
Let me ramble about classic vs. contemporary, debate whether romance was underrated as a literary genre, it is, and leaned on the counter with that half-smile like he was soaking me in.
And then the weekend came…
And he didn’t show.
I told myself it was fine, I was glad.
Relieved even.
If he stopped coming around, I wouldn't have to think too hard about how he made me nervous, how I could feel sparks between us that I didn't understand.
Maybe it was for the best.
He hadn’t asked for my number again. Hadn’t flirted too heavily. Hadn’t promised anything.
Maybe I imagined it all. The connection. The spark. The way it felt like something was building.
Maybe he decided I wasn't worth chasing after.
Maybe it was nothing.
And yet… part of me still looked toward the door every time the bell jingled.
By Monday morning, Abby’s little guy was still sick, and I’d worked all weekend alone.
I was tired. A little crispy around the edges. Running mostly on caffeine and spite.
So when I got to the store early to open up and saw him waiting on the bench outside with two takeout cups in hand, I almost dropped my keys.
It was like he took all the oxygen with him, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.
He stood as I approached, looking freshly showered like he didn’t already have the unfair advantage of being that attractive.
“Morning,” he said, handing me one of the cups. “Took a wild guess you like it sweet.”
I blinked, caught off guard.
“I... thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to...”
“I wanted to.” He paused. “I was hoping to see you.”
I fumbled with the keys and finally got the door open, letting him step inside behind me. The bell gave its usual cheerful ring.
I turned to face him and found him already watching me. It felt very predator versus prey. But I thought maybe that was just the confidence of a man his age.
“I’m taking you out,” he said.
My brows lifted. “You are?”
“Yeah.” No hesitation. No nerves. “Tonight.”
I laughed softly. “A little bold, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “I figured I earned it after pretending to shop for other people just to talk to you.”
That caught me.
The honesty.
I didn’t know what to say, so I looked down at my coffee instead and mumbled, “Okay.”
He took my phone, added his number and told me he'd pick me up after work.
After he left, I excitedly looked for it because I realized he had never given me his name. But the newest contact didn't have his name; it was listed as 'Last First Date'. My heart stuttered a beat. Was this guy for real?
The day dragged. Customers came and went, but my mind kept looping on those words: I’m taking you out.
I didn’t know anything about him.
Not really.
Not even his name.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
About the way, he looked at me.
About the fact that he showed up early just to give me coffee and make sure I saw him first.
The store was closing when Abby showed up, dragging her laptop and muttering about needing to escape her “tiny sick gremlin.”
“Reggie got home from work, so I figured I’d do inventory before my brain melts. Also, why do you look so peppy?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You have date energy. Don’t lie. You’re glowing.”
I snorted. “Maybe because I do have a date.”
Her jaw dropped. “You do not.”
“I do.” I tried to play it cool, but the smile tugged at my mouth anyway.
Abby narrowed her eyes like she was trying to solve a riddle. “Is it Hot Book Guy?”
I didn’t answer. I had told her about a guy that had caught my attention and how he had kept coming into the store... but nothing else.
She gasped. “It’s Hot Book Guy.”
I laughed. “You need to stop calling him that.”
“You know his name?”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Oh my God, I’m obsessed already.”
Twenty minutes before closing, my phone buzzed.
Last First Date: I’m so sorry. Got caught at work. Can you meet me there? I’ll make it up to you.
Disappointment bloomed in my chest. I wanted Abby to meet him. To see if she or Reggie knew him. They seemed to know everyone around here, and he must work or live close by with how often he had stopped by in the past few days.
But I brushed the disappointment off.
This kind of stuff happened.
Right.
Real life got in the way.
At least he texted.
I texted back Okay, closed up the shop, grabbed my bag, and drove myself to the address he sent.
The restaurant was small. Cozy. The kind of place with exposed brick, cloth tablecloths and candlelight that felt like a secret waiting to be kept.
He was already seated when I arrived, still, in work clothes, button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, tie loose. He stood as I approached, that smile returning like a reward.
“You came,” he said.
“You invited me.”
He pulled out my chair, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like a woman in a romance novel.
Dinner was… perfect.
The conversation was easy, and the laughter came honestly.
My cheeks actually hurt from how hard I was smiling and laughing.
He asked questions and listened.
Told me stories about working in construction management. About how he used to think he’d be an architect.
Said he wasn’t married to the job; he wanted a life that felt good, not just one that looked good on paper.
We didn’t talk about anything too personal.
But we talked about everything else.
Books. Music. Travel. Where we’d go if money weren’t an issue. What kind of life would we build if we could?
At the end of the night, he walked me to my car.
The air was cold, and our breath was visible in the space between us.
He stood close, close enough that my heart started to race.
I thought he was going to kiss me. My body was buzzing with an intoxicating energy. I wanted that kiss.
So I closed my eyes and waited for his lips to press into mine.
Instead, I felt his warm breath whisper along my neck and ear.
“I want to see you again.”
My breath caught. My heart was beating so wildly. He was so close, but we weren't touching.
“Okay,” I whispered.
And when I opened my eyes, he was already walking away.
And I was already hooked.
And I still didn't know his name.