Chapter 4
JULIET
I take a moment to quietly observe Spenser before he notices me.
He moves so gracefully, gliding around the store almost as if his feet never quite touch the ground.
He’s wearing what I’ve come to think of as his standard uniform: fitted jeans or trousers that hug his thick thighs, a tight t-shirt that shows off impressive biceps, and a vest. I wonder if he gets his clothes custom made to suit his unique anatomy.
If so, his tailor does a good job, because his wings look like silk under the twinkle lights, their shades of blue and purple almost glimmering.
What a beautiful, fascinating person he is.
He’s walking around with Flicker at his feet, clearly in the midst of a conversation with her. Despite the casual way he told the story of how they met, it’s clear to me they’re a bonded pair.
I stare for a moment longer, trying to figure out how someone who spends all their time puttering around a bookstore manages to get such a ripped body, but he must feel my gaze, because he looks up. When he sees me, a smile stretches across his face.
I shoot him a little wave and walk over, fully aware that there is a matching grin on my own face. I can’t help it.
“Hey, Spenser,” I greet.
“Hey, just the person I wanted to see,” he says. “Come tell me what you think of this display.” I step closer and he flutters his wings, stirring a gentle breeze that raises goosebumps on my arms. At least, I think the breeze is the cause. Then again, maybe it’s just…him.
One of my many nerdy hobbies is learning the collective nouns for things.
Which comes in useful at the moment, because I know that it’s a kaleidoscope of butterflies that erupts in my stomach every time I’m with him.
Or, I suppose, given his species, maybe it’s an eclipse of moths.
Either way, I feel all bubbly and girlish in his presence.
It was never like this with Braeden, and we were together for two years. Two years I wish I could have back.
I follow Spenser to the table in the store’s seating area, examining the display he put together. It’s a mix of horror and thriller novels, all artfully stacked to catch the eye.
“Looks great,” I tell him.
Later, during a lull in customers, he does the funniest thing. He’s leaning against the counter, an old pulp novel in his hand as we chat. As I watch, he rips a page out and absently takes a bite.
Did he…did he just eat part of a book?
Then again, he is part moth. Maybe that’s normal?
“You seem peckish.” I raise my brows. “Do I need to worry about my sweater?”
He looks at the page in his hand and then chuckles.
“No. I can assure you that I’ve never eaten anyone’s wardrobe.
I do like the occasional old book, though.
” He shakes his head, as if a little bewildered.
“I have to admit, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
I don’t normally snack in front of people. I guess I’m comfortable with you.”
I chew my lip to suppress the grin that’s trying to escape.
“Not to worry. Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that you opened this bookstore just so you could eat the merchandise.”
He laughs and shakes his head.
“Tell me one of your embarrassing secrets? To make it even,” he teases.
I think for a second, then decide…why not?
“Well…I’m scared of dark, enclosed spaces. Not the dark in general. Like, I don’t mind walking home at night or working late. But a dark closet or elevator or something?” I shiver. “Gives me the heebie jeebies.”
“How do you feel about a fully lit basement?” he asks, taking another bite of the page in his hand.
“Uh, I think that should be mostly fine. Why?”
“I was hoping on Wednesday evening you could help me go through some inventory down there. Kelly and Coby are coming in to cover the floor, so we’ll have time to actually sort through everything.”
I nod. “Sounds fine, as long as you promise the lights will stay on.”
“Not to worry. You won’t be stranded in the dark, and if anything happens, I’ll be there to keep you safe.”
He says it casually, still snacking on the old book, but something about his easy protectiveness makes the moths in my belly return. The thought of spending the evening alone with him, cataloging titles?
Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
SPENSER
When I go downstairs for my shift, I see Jin at the counter, but there’s no sign of Juliet. Which is odd. She has a tendency to show up early.
“Juliet’s not here?” I ask.
Jin raises their brows until they disappear under thick black bangs. “Oh, she’s here. Having some sort of minor breakdown in the romance section. I left her to it.”
I notice a crime novel on the counter next to Jin and point to it. “Does that need reshelving?”
They slide the book to me. “Take it at your own risk.”
I grab the book with a frown and head to romance, where I find Juliet standing with her hands on her hips, flames practically coming out of her ears. When she turns and sees me, crime novel in my hand, she glares at it.
“Uh, are you mad at this book?”
“Maybe.” She glowers.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
She takes a deep breath and runs her hands through her thick hair, pushing it back from her face.
“Okay, so first of all, I was trying to shelve that book. It’s a crime mystery with an embossed cover, right?
So I put it with the rest of the textured hardbacks in its section: Textured Leather Mysteries.
But then some ogre lady came in and browsed the shelf and pulled this out.
She got all offended, said that it smelled like decay, copper, blood, and old meat, and then took it off to Jin to complain about me and my ‘ineptitude.’” She makes air quotes around the word.
“I still don’t know what that was about. ”
“I think I see the problem. This is a crime thriller with explicit content, not a cozy read. The author deliberately used aged paper and metallic binding chemicals to create an unsettling aroma and atmosphere. This goes with Dark and Disturbing Mysteries, which is our section for heavier scents. The ogre customer, who I’m willing to bet was Trudy Irontusk, was looking for a pleasant-smelling mystery for her home. ”
Juliet’s jaw flexes, and I can actually see her grinding her teeth. “I’m sorry, but your organizational system is just too complicated.” She throws her hands in the air. “You never told me some of the books smell bad on purpose!”
“It’s not that common,” I assure her. “Just a handful of books that are meant to be unsettling. I promise you’ll get the hang of it.
Part of the trick is learning to not only identify the smells, but to understand their intentions.
” In her annoyed state, her pheromones are wafting around like crazy, and my antennae are flicking around, tracking them.
I make a concerted effort to hold them still.
She huffs, looking slightly mollified, and I glance at the books piled around her on the dark green rug. “I take it this one wasn’t the only issue?” I say, raising the crime book.
“Not exactly. I’ve been battling paranormal romance,” she explains.
“No offense, but I think you might be losing that battle.” The shelf looks like a tornado blew through.
“Okay, so here’s the thing. I understand that the scent profile for Dark Paranormal Romance is moody florals and earth,” she says, and I nod.
“But this book about a revenant and an archaeologist doesn’t really smell floral.
It’s more like, I dunno, libraries and midnight air, if that makes sense.
Slightly dusty, but with a sharp twist.”
She picks up another book, this one with a black and silver cover.
“And this one, about the ghost hunter who falls for the ghost? It’s giving me old, tattered lace and lavender powder, not earth.
As an experiment, I tried grouping them by the feeling the scents give me.
This one”—she holds up a purple book that I think is the love story of a Notre Dame gargoyle—"feels cozy and nostalgic, so I grouped it with cozy paranormals, even though the romance leans darker.”
I consider what she’s saying. “So you’re organizing by vibes?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess? But then I got kind of overwhelmed, and everything is a mess, and I knew you’d be annoyed…and, well, here we are.”
I flutter my antennae thoughtfully, having regained control of them. “I’m not annoyed. You may be making a mess, but you’re also making a valid point.”
“Seriously?” She stands up straighter and tucks her hair behind her ears, looking at the books stacked around her.
I nod. “You just created a secondary organization system based on…emotional resonance, let’s call it.
It’s interesting that you recognized it.
” I pick up one of the books from a pile she made and examine it thoughtfully.
“We can’t have two organizational systems running simultaneously.
That would be too confusing. But I think we can do something with this. ”
Juliet is watching me with curiosity, her anger seemingly evaporated. I’ve noticed that about her. Her natural inquisitiveness always wins out, even when she’s grumpy. “Like what?”
"We could add a 'Mood-Based Recommendations' display near the register on a trial basis.
Books organized the way you've just done them, with a note explaining the arrangement.
Some customers might prefer to shop by feeling rather than the usual scent and texture specifications.
It could add dimension. It would be your responsibility to maintain it, and we'll see if customers respond. "
She grins, her mood-ring eyes shifting from brown to green. “I’d love that. When can I set it up?”
“How about now? I’ll help you clean up this mess and we can pull books for the display at the same time.”
She nods and starts sorting through her piles, humming quietly.
A sense of calm settles over me. It takes so little to make her happy, and for reasons I’d prefer not to examine too closely, that makes me happy too.
JULIET