12. Hades
Hades
I stare at the book in my hand. I have no fucking idea what it’s supposed to be about. I don’t even remember picking it up.
The only reason I’m holding it is because of Presley.
I walked away from the counter because standing there staring at her seemed like a bad idea.
Especially since I've spent the last several days watching her from the woods.
Up close, she's even more beautiful.
That pisses me off.
I was hoping distance had exaggerated things.
It didn’t.
If anything, it hid her beautiful green eyes. They’re not the bright kind. Instead, they’re deeper. Mossy, with little flecks of gold that I couldn't see from the woods.
Distance hid other things, too.
Like the way her nose wrinkles when she laughs.
The faint flush that crept over her cheeks when I looked at her too long.
And her scent.
Jesus Christ, her scent.
Something soft and sweet that I couldn't identify beneath the smell of old books and cinnamon that fills the store.
I want to know what it is.
I want to know so many things about her. Too many things.
It’s becoming a problem.
I glance toward the end of the aisle. I can't see her, but I can hear her. She's talking quietly to Penny.
My mouth almost curves into a smile.
Her dog likes me. I shouldn't give a shit, but I do.
When Penny came out from beneath the counter and walked toward me, I expected her to hesitate.
She didn't.
She sat directly in front of me like she'd known me forever.
Presley said she's usually a good judge of character.
I look down at my hands. Apparently not.
I never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe dogs understand that better than people.
Or maybe she smelled the treats Wilder convinced me to buy at the grocery store.
Either way, when she put her paws on my knee, something moved inside my chest.
Something I don't particularly want to examine.
I’ve never had a dog before. I liked the neighbor’s golden retriever, though. So that should count, right?
Presley's low voice carries toward me.
“Maybe don't fall in love with the first terrifyingly hot stranger who walks through the door.”
I go completely still.
For a second, I'm convinced I heard her wrong.
Then Penny's collar jingles.
Presley says something else, quieter this time. “That was mostly a warning for me.”
Could she really be attracted to me?
Something dangerously close to satisfaction moves through me.
My fingers tighten around the book as her voice echoes inside my head.
It’s too late to stop me from craving you.
The cover of the book finally comes back into focus. A shirtless man stares back at me.
What the fuck?
I turn it over.
Some romance novel.
Of course.
I'm standing in the middle of a bookstore holding a book with a half-naked man on it while listening to Presley warn herself not to fall for me.
I can’t imagine the shit Wilder would give me.
I put the book back.
Then immediately notice I've shoved it into the mystery section.
I stare at it. “Whatever.”
“That's definitely not where that goes.”
My head whips to the sound. Presley stands at the end of the aisle.
Fuck.
Her arms are folded across her chest, amusement dancing in her beautiful eyes.
“I was going to fix it.”
She raises her brows. “Were you?”
“No.”
She walks toward me, her grin widening. “I appreciate the honesty.”
Every step brings that soft scent closer.
My attention drops to her mouth.
Don't stare at her lips. You're already thinking about kissing her.
I force my eyes upward.
She reaches around me and takes the book from the shelf. For one second, she's close enough that her arm brushes mine.
My body tightens, fighting the urge to grab her. To push her against the bookcase and kiss her until she’s breathless.
She doesn't seem to notice.
Or maybe she does, because her cheeks turn pink again.
I like that too fucking much.
She looks at the cover, then at me. Her lips twitch.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That's not a nothing face.”
“I'm just surprised.”
“By?”
She turns the book around. The shirtless asshole is still there. “This.”
I stare at her.
“You picked it up.”
“You work in a bookstore. Aren't you supposed to encourage reading?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Her smile grows. “I'm thrilled you're branching out.”
“I didn't read it.”
“Well, you considered it.”
“I picked it up.”
“That's the first step.”
“To what?”
“Rehabilitation.”
I almost smile.
“You should try one.”
My brows furrow. “A romance novel?”
“Why not?”
“I don't read romance.”
“You said you don't read much of anything.”
“Exactly.”
She gasps softly. “There you go again.”
“What?”
“Admitting terrible things inside a bookstore.”
I look around. “No one's thrown me out yet.”
“Margaret's busy.”
“So you're saying I still have time.”
Her gaze meets mine. “For?”
I take a step closer. “To be rehabilitated.”
Her lips part. She blushes.
Christ, that blush.
I want to see how dark I can make it.
I want to know what else makes her cheeks turn pink.
What makes her laugh.
What makes her angry.
What makes her moan.
My jaw tightens.
Slow down.
I've known her—
I stop myself.
I don't know her.
I've watched her. Learned things about her.
That's different.
She's known me for less than ten minutes.
I need to remember that.
Presley clears her throat. “Well, if you're serious, I can recommend something.”
“Your favorite.”
She blinks. “My favorite romance?”
“Yeah.”
“That's a lot of pressure.”
“Why?”
“Because your first romance novel could determine whether you ever read another one.”
“I'll survive.”
She studies me, then moves away to the correct shelf and slides the book into its proper place. I can’t help but stare at her ass in the black leggings she’s wearing.
I follow.
“This one’s a good book.”
“Really?” I fold my arms across my chest. “Looks a bit... romantic.”
She laughs. “Why? Cause there’s a buff, shirtless guy on the cover?”
I don’t like her calling him buff.
Or looking at another man’s naked torso.
“Yeah.”
“Did you not see the dark roses, skulls, and knife on the cover?”
I shrug. “Yeah. And?”
“That’s a dark romance.”
“Dark romance?”
“Mmm-hmm. In this case, he stalks and kidnaps her.”
“You’ve read it?”
Her smile turns wicked. “Of course.”
“How is it a romance?”
“It’s spicy. Really spicy.” Her cheeks flame.
“Spicy, huh?”
She looks away and clears her throat, then turns back to me. Her voice is almost a whisper when she says, “She falls for him.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.
She has no idea how closely this book relates to her life.
I haven’t kidnapped her, though.
But I wouldn’t rule it out. Especially if she’d be into it.
“And that’s romance?”
“It has a happy ending.”
“Happy ending,” I repeat.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Everyone likes happy endings.”
Something inside me goes quiet.
I’ve never had one of those.
Not that I deserve one.
Something passes through her eyes. She masks it almost immediately.
Whatever it was makes me wonder if Presley has ever had one either.
She pats the shelf and walks away.
I grab the book, then follow behind her.
When I lay it on the counter by the register, she stills.
“I'll take it.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”
“You recommended it.” I stare into her mossy eyes. Gold flecks shimmer beneath the light. “So I'm trusting you.”
Her expression softens.
Christ. Don't look at me like that.
I can handle fear. Suspicion. Even disgust.
But softness is something else entirely.
“Wow. Hopefully, the book doesn’t disappoint.” Worry furrows her brows. “You’ll lose all trust in my recommendations.”
“Don’t lose sleep over it. It’ll take a lot more than that.” I stop talking, hearing footsteps approaching.
She looks down, but not before I see the softness in her eyes.
Her hands shake as she grabs the book and scans it. Two bright blotches cover her cheeks.
Fuck. She’s stunning.
Penny drops the toy she’s carrying and runs past Margaret, heading for me.
My chest does that fucking thing again.
“Hey, Penny.”
She jumps against my leg.
Presley laughs, her blush fading. “She really likes you.”
I crouch and scratch behind Penny's ears.
The admission slips out before I can stop it. “I like her, too.”
Presley smiles. “Do you have a rewards account?”
“No.”
“Want one?”
“No.”
She stares at me.
“What?”
“You didn't even consider it.”
“I don't need one.”
“You will if rehabilitation works.”
“Then I'll get one later.”
Her fingers move across the screen. “Fine. Remain unrewarded.”
Margaret laughs. “She’s a helluva saleswoman. I can’t believe you didn’t get it.”
“She’s hard to resist.”
Color returns to Presley’s cheeks.
I like it.
She gives me the total. I pull out my wallet and pay.
When she hands me the receipt, our fingers graze for a fraction of a second.
Still, every muscle in my body tightens.
Her eyes flick to mine.
She felt it too.
I know she did.
“Enjoy the book,” she says, sliding the bag to me.
“I'll let you know.”
Her smile grows. “Please do.”
I pick it up.
I don't want to leave. Which is new for me.
But I have to.
The woods were easy.
But this? It’s complicated.
Presley thinks I'm just some stranger who wandered into her bookstore twenty minutes before closing.
She has no idea I've seen the light in her bedroom window glowing through the trees. Or that I stood on her porch, straightening her ghost.
I look at her one last time. “See you around, Presley.”
“Bye, Hades.”
Her voice saying my name follows me all the way to the door.
The cold air immediately hits my face as I step outside.
But I barely feel it.
My boots crunch over brown leaves as I move to my truck.
I climb inside, setting the bag on the seat beside me.
I should go home. Read the damn book. Stay away from her for a while.
Instead, one thought settles into my mind.
Watching Presley isn't enough anymore.