5. hayes
FIVE
hayes
U nlike FFJ’s stores, Fallon’s storeroom is bare. A few boxes left on storage shelves are full of display signs and older titles that even box stores can’t sell, but I notice ‘signed edition’ stickers on nearly all of them. I’m desperate to inquire how she secures so many signed copies from multiple authors, but that would show I’m more interested in her store than the average customer.
I must maintain my aloof behavior, though that’s proving difficult around her. She’s a walking, talking argument that I’m itching to spar with at every opportunity—including the task of moving boxes, which shouldn’t be a spat at all. There’s only one way to do it properly—mine.
“Lightest needs to go on the top shelf,” I say for possibly the tenth time since we started offloading the truck.
Fallon blows her bangs off her forehead with an exasperated breath. A sheen of sweat glistens on her brow, and for a second, I wonder how it tastes. If it’s as bitter as her… or sweeter. My mouth waters, but I chalk it up to carrying boxes of paperbacks. I only know that because Fallon insists on inspecting each box before it’s unloaded.
“I understand your reasoning, but I sometimes have to move them alone. It’s better for me if the lightest boxes are on the lowest shelves.” She points to the pronounced bottom shelf directly in front of me. “Right there would be grand.”
“ Grand ,” I repeat, jaw ticking. “Have you considered hiring someone so you’re not reliant on just yourself?”
“Fitz,” Andrew warns in a low tone. “I think she’s managed quite well on her own.”
“She could manage better if she delegated,” I begin to argue, then stop when I catch Fallon glaring at me. That doesn’t stop me. “Or, instead of stacking boxes on shelves, you could hire someone to unpack each box and stack titles instead so you can properly track inventory. You wouldn’t have to search through each box when pulling more titles.”
Fallon, in all her bite-sized height and stubbornness, crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t owe you reasoning for why I operate my store the way I do, but since you seem hellbent on controlling how I run my day-to-day, I will give you the simplest explanation I can.”
I pick up on the condescension.
“I don’t have time to unpack each box,” she continues. “We close early every night to put out the new stock before the next shipment arrives three days later. And there’s no point in counting inventory because I cycle through it so fast. I don’t have the time…”
Again, I double down. “Then… hire someone.”
Jace, having moved three boxes before finding a shelf to lean against while we continue assisting Fallon, yawns. “We could’ve finished by now if you’d stop arguing with her, Fitz.”
Andrew shoots Jace a glare. “ We ?”
Fallon drops her arms to place her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to hire someone. We’re fine on our own.”
I place the box I just carried in on the highest shelf. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I put this here,” I say.
Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fitz…”
Fallon’s lips part as heat fills her cheeks. I can tell by the way her skin reddened. “Did you walk into my store today with the specific task of being a jackass?”
“That’s just Fitz,” Jace pipes in.
Ignoring us, Fallon storms out of the storeroom and hikes up the small ramp into the truck bed. Only a handful of boxes remain, and none she can move herself, so she’s trying to distance herself from me.
I follow her, crouching slightly since I’m too tall to stand erect. Fallon, however, still has inches between the top of her head and the truck’s roof. I palm the truck’s exterior and duck my head to watch her pace. My presence has clearly annoyed her.
I say nothing. I just watch, slightly amused by her antics. She has her hands on her hips, muttering insults under her breath as if I can’t hear her. Sweat glistens on her temple and slowly drips down her cheek. My grip tightens on the cool metal of the truck, but I’m not convinced the shiver retreating down my spine isn’t from something else.
From my little time with her, I’ve gathered that she doesn’t hand over control easily. It’s apparent in the way she carries herself. I haven’t seen her relax since stepping foot in her store an hour ago. I could relieve that for her if I didn’t find her so irritating.
“Don’t just stand there,” she bites, whipping her head toward me. She gestures toward the remaining boxes. “I’ll compensate you for your help today.”
I lift an eyebrow. If she only knew how deep my pockets run. “We offered to help, Fallon. We’re not expecting payment.”
Defiance squares her shoulders. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”
I drop my head with a chuckle. “Believe me, you wouldn’t be able to afford what I’d ask of you.”
Curiosity swims in her eyes. And a little bit of pride. She could pay us something if she genuinely wanted to, and she might still try to prove that her store performs well. But that’s not why she’s silently staring at me. She’s searching for what I could mean.
“And what…” She clears her throat. “What would that be?”
Grinning, I lazily lift my left shoulder in a shrug. “As I said, you couldn’t provide it.”
She squares her shoulders. “I can afford it…”
“I’m not interested in your money, Fallon.”
What am I doing? I can’t be interested in acquiring anything from her. This is a dangerous game I’m stepping into, but her obstinance is begging to be broken. Her mind needs a break from the constant overthinking.
She pulls the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, her head tilting slightly to the right. The heat in the bed of the truck is adding to the tension, causing my dick to swell from the movement of her mouth. And she seems to feel the same pull as me when she lifts her hand to wrap around the column of her throat. She’s thirsty.
My mind swims into a dark abyss. As curious as she might be, approaching her with a simple, ‘I could fuck the tension right out of you’ wouldn’t work with someone like her. She would need convincing. She’d be…. a challenge.
At the very least, staying near her would help us monitor her store and her progress in acquiring the city location. I could get under her skin.
But the words, “Hire me,” slip out of my mouth long before I fully commit to this idea.
She stalls. She literally seems to just… time out. Her lips part, her pupils widen, and her head tilts in confusion after half a minute passes by. “Uh, what?”
I have to seem confident in this impulsive idea of mine now, or she won’t even consider it. “I just moved here from Boston. I was planning to look for jobs today. I have experience in retail.” That is not a complete lie. We own hundreds of store locations across the United States. “I can help with shipments. Hire me.”
She’s going to say no. Nothing about me appeals to her, especially after her first impression of me. But she doesn’t speak up—the male voice behind me does. “Done. Can you start tomorrow? I’ll train you myself.”
Fallon whips her head to glance behind me, her eyes narrowing on Thomas, who had snuck up on us. Andrew and Jace are a pace behind him, staring at me in confusion. I shake my head slightly, silently imploring them not to say a word. “Tomorrow,” I say, buying myself a few seconds to devise an excuse. “I’m moving into my apartment.”
“Wait a second—” Fallon starts to say.
“No problem,” Thomas interrupts. “Our next shipment comes in three days. How does that sound?”
Three days will buy me time to try and sell this idea to my father and secure a place to live. But I don’t look at Thomas to confirm. Instead, I lock eyes with Fallon and promise, “I’ll be here.”