6. Gabe
6
GABE
Arden’s busy with a customer, so I slip into her store unnoticed a few days later, and head straight for the mysteries. Pawing through the tomes, I find what I’m looking for.
The big orange beast.
If he’s not parked in the window, he’s often curled up by the newest titles. I suspect he likes the smell of the pages.
And yup, there he is, sprawled across a middle shelf, purring in front of the new Mary Higgins Clark. I reach for it, and the cat swats my arm. “Don’t you want me to support your mistress’s business?”
Henry twitches his tail, and clearly that means a big fat no.
I reach around him. He swipes at me again. “I think you might be bad for business if you keep that up.”
He stretches, raises his furry chin, and shoots me a look of utter disdain before jumping off the shelves and sauntering haughtily away, tail high in the air.
I grab the novel. Tucking it under my arm, I make a beeline for the magazines and crossword puzzles, snagging a new book.
I peer around the corner, and Arden’s back at the counter, head bent to study the computer screen, and damn does she look good today. Her blonde hair is piled high in one of those crazy buns. Whoever designed those buns should be given an award. On the surface, they shouldn’t be attractive. It’s a fucking bun, after all. But there’s just something about that swept-up-and-still-a-little-messy look that revs my engine. Maybe it’s the way that hairdo highlights her gorgeous cheekbones and accentuates lips that I know must be sinfully soft.
Or maybe it’s that every little thing this woman does seems to get me going. That smile, her mind, her laughter . . . Truth is, I was thinking about Arden more than I was thinking about Darla on that date the other night. Thinking what it would take to have Arden sitting across from me at a restaurant as more than a buddy.
I head straight for the counter, plunking down the books with a thump. “You were busy, so Henry recommended these. Oh wait, he actually tried to attack me.”
Arden startles then looks up and smiles. “Do you need me to get out my first aid kit and take care of all those terrible cat scratches he left on your arms?” She peers down. “Oh wait. You don’t have any.”
“I’m just saying. He’s vicious.”
“He’s sweet.”
I laugh. “We might have different definitions of the word ‘sweet.’”
“We might indeed.” She arches an eyebrow then slides me the books. “Your money’s no good here. Take them.”
I sigh. “No way. You can’t do that.”
She nods and gives a satisfied grin. “I can, and I will.”
“Honestly, I’d like to pay. This one is for my mom and the other’s for me.”
Her smile shifts to one of curiosity. “Your mom’s the one you buy the mysteries for?”
“You notice what I buy?”
“I do indeed. Maybe I’m a book spy.”
“Well, 007, you’ve discovered my secret. I shop for my mom. She devours mysteries. She got that from her dad—my pops loves mysteries too. The more hard-boiled the better.”
“The hard-boiled ones are a hoot. As for your mom, if she likes wine, tell her this Mary Higgins Clark pairs deliciously with a Bordeaux, since those wines are a little mysterious.”
“I’ll pass that on. She’ll get a kick out of that.”
“That’s nice that you buy so many books for your mom.”
“I told you that day at Silver Phoenix Lake— nice is a good thing.” I take out my wallet, fish around for a couple twenties, and set them on the counter.
“Gabe. Let me give these books to you.”
I lean closer, shaking my head. “Let me support your business.”
She screws up the corner of her lips, sighs, then holds up a finger. “Be right back.”
A minute later she returns with a new hardcover. Glancing from side to side, she slides it over to me. “It’s the new Sandra Brown. It doesn’t come out for a few more days. Give it to your mom as a gift.”
She gives me the change from the bills, and I thank her. “She’ll love it.”
And she does, indeed, when I head over for dinner and give the book to my mom.
“You win the prize for my best son ever,” she says to me as she clutches the book.
“Was there anyone else in competition?” I tease, since I’m her only son.
“Hmm. You’re right. But I still like you a whole helluva lot.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“I love you.” She winks as she settles into the couch with her book then shoots me a genuine, “Thank you so much.”
* * *
Later that night, there’s a new game of Words with Friends waiting for me, and the first word Arden has played is CURIOUS.
I want to read something into it, but mostly I’m damn impressed she led with a seven-letter word.
When my shift starts the next morning, we’re called to a small warehouse fire, and handling that blaze is a hell of a lot easier than trying to use a word game to decipher a woman.