Chapter 2
Flint
The space behind the counter wasn’t built for two people.
It sure as hell wasn’t built for someone my size standing next to a woman as soft and curved as Avery Fisher.
She’d positioned herself in front of the register, and I’d stepped up beside her to watch, which put us close enough that I could practically smell the innocence wafting off of her.
This was the woman my aunt had been trying to hook me up with for the last six years?
She was too young. Too sweet. And absolutely devourable. Some primal part of me wanted to bend her over the counter right here at the register, and fuck the prim-and-proper right off her face.
The green cardigan she wore was buttoned all the way up to her throat, modest and careful, and her skirt flowed loose around her hips in a shade of mint that made me think of spring even though the mountain air outside still bit with the last edge of winter.
Yellow ballet flats. Who wore yellow shoes?
Apparently she did.
My eyes snagged on her curves while I fought the desire to step in closer and growl into her ear.
She was plush and curvy and exactly my type.
I liked a woman with something to hold onto, and Avery had some well-developed love handles attached to her hips.
I dragged my attention back to the register as she started explaining the process.
“It’s pretty simple,” she said, her voice steady now that she had something concrete to focus on. “You press here to open a new transaction, then scan the barcode on the book. If there’s no barcode, you can type in the ISBN manually, or use the search function to find it by title.”
Her fingers moved across the keys with practiced ease, and I watched the way her hands worked, quick and sure. She knew this machine the way I knew my trapping routes. Muscle memory built from years of repetition.
“Once everything’s scanned, the total shows here.” She pointed to the screen. “Then you ask how they’re paying.”
“Cash, card, or check,” I said.
“Right.” She glanced up at me, then quickly away. “For cash, you just enter the amount they give you and the register calculates the change. The cash drawer opens automatically.”
She demonstrated, punching in a number, and the drawer slid out with a mechanical click. I leaned in to look at the compartments: organized bills on one side, coins on the other, and caught another wave of her rosy scent.
Her shoulders tensed when I leaned closer. She was aware of me the same way I was aware of her, though she was trying damn hard to hide it. I straightened up faster than I needed to.
“Checks are a little more involved,” she continued with a warble in her voice. “We don’t get many from the tourists anymore, but our older customers still prefer them.”
Avery glanced up at me, “You need to check that the date is correct, that the amount matches the total, and that they’ve signed it. Then you write the customer’s driver’s license number on the back.”
“And if something doesn’t match?”
“You ask them to write a new one.” Her lips pressed together briefly before she added, “Politely.”
There was something about those lips. Thin and delicate, covered in a soft pink lipstick that looked almost natural. Every emotion she tried to keep off her face showed up there instead, in the way they pursed or flattened or curved at the corners.
Right now they were pressed into a careful line, professional and guarded.
I wondered what they’d look like if she actually smiled.
“Credit cards are easiest,” she said, moving on. “You just select the card option, and the reader does the rest. Customer inserts or taps, enters their PIN if it’s debit, and signs on the screen if the purchase is over fifty dollars.”
She walked me through the process twice, her explanations thorough and patient despite the subtle tension I could feel radiating off her.
Avery didn’t want me here, although I had a hunch that she did want me.
That much was obvious from the moment I’d walked through the door. She’d looked at me like I was an invader in her territory, which I supposed I was. But her eyes had also skimmed my whole body, her lips parting delicately as if she’d wanted to eat me up, too.
But what this delicate snowflake wanted wouldn’t change anything. Marlene had asked me to do this, and I planned to do it. My aunt was the only family I had left, and she didn’t ask for favors often.
“What about returns?” I asked.
“There’s a separate function for that.” She showed me where to find it on the menu, explaining the store’s policy about receipts and time limits. “Marlene’s pretty flexible with regulars. If someone’s been shopping here for years, she usually takes the return no questions asked.”
That sounded like my aunt. More heart than business sense.
“That’s the basics,” she said, stepping back and putting some distance between us.
The space behind the counter felt bigger immediately, though I couldn’t say I preferred it that way.
“What about deposits?” I asked. “Marlene mentioned there’s about a week’s worth that need to go to the bank.”
Something flickered across Avery’s face. A tightening around her eyes that she quickly smoothed away. “The deposits are kept in Marlene’s office. In the safe.”
“Show me.”
She hesitated for just a moment, then nodded and led me through the storeroom toward a small office tucked in the back corner. The space was cramped and cluttered with papers, but there was a sturdy metal safe sitting beneath the desk with a drop hinge on the front.
“That’s it,” Avery said, gesturing toward it. “But I don’t have the combination. Marlene never gave it to me.”
“I’ve got it.”
Her lips scrunched up at that, a tiny pucker of displeasure that she probably didn’t even realize she was making. It was the most expressive thing I’d seen from her yet, and I felt my mouth curve into a smile before I could stop it.
She’d worked here six years and didn’t have the safe combination. I’d been here ten minutes and my aunt had handed it over without hesitation.
I could see why it stung.
Avery was like a mini-dictator, running this store the way she wanted. Every cell in her body was trying to push me back out the door, but this gal was stuck with me.
It would go better if we could learn to be friends… or at least be friendly with each other.
What I really wanted was to friendly my way right up inside of her, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Not with the sour expression on her face.
My aunt loved this girl. She’d been gushing about Avery ever since she hired her six years ago. And she’d tried to get me to come meet her a thousand times since then. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Marlene wanted to set us up.
And now that I’d met Avery, I could see the appeal.
“Something funny?” she asked, her voice cooling.
“Nope,” I crouched down in front of the safe, studying the dial. “Just thinking that you’ve got a very honest face.”
Her lips did that thing again, pressing together like she was physically holding back a response. I found myself watching for it, curious what other expressions those lips might betray if I pushed the right buttons.
Dangerous thinking, I told myself. You’re here to run a bookstore, not chase after a woman half your age.
But it hardly mattered. My dick was already activated. There was no accounting for who you were attracted to, and something about this woman lit up all my circuits. Plus, she wasn’t really half my age. She was probably just a decade younger, completely within the realm of possibility.
I’d sworn off women eight years ago, after my ex, Brenda, had shown me exactly what I was worth to her. Which was nothing, apparently, unless I was willing to spend my dad’s inheritance on the life she wanted instead of the one I’d built.
The grief had still been fresh when she’d started pushing. My dad had barely been cold in the ground when she’d started talking about selling the cabin, moving to a bigger town, and buying a nice normal house with central heating and neighbors close enough to wave at.
She’d wanted the money. Not me.
When I refused, she left. Found some rich man in Little Rock who could give her everything she wanted.
And then I’d been broken-hearted in two directions at once. I hadn’t let anyone close since.
But standing in this cramped little office with Avery Fisher and her expressive lips, I felt something stir that I’d thought was long dead.
Dangerous, I thought again, and turned my attention to the safe.
I punched in the code and pulled out the deposit bags.
“Do you know where Marlene keeps her books? I need to balance the deposit before I take it to the bank.”
Avery gave me a tight smile and rummaged in the drawer until she pulled out an old ledger. “Marlene hasn’t digitized the process yet.”
Hm. That sounded inefficient.
I sat down and began crunching numbers.
I hated this kind of work, even though I could do it if I had to. I liked the honesty of my days spent in the woods, trapping, hunting, fishing, and searching for mushrooms.
We had a variety that grew around here, and they went for good money. It was spring, so it was Morel season right now. And I’d rather be hunting them than adding up numbers.
Avery had been right. The last thing I’d read had been a lawnmower manual.
I didn’t know jack shit about running a bookshop.
But I had a brain, and I’d figure this shit out. It wasn’t rocket science.