Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
REED
“ A nd then we went into za public sauna and your dad yelped at all za naked people’s fiddly bits.”
Reed’s forehead rested on the cool brick outside his bookshop, wishing he hadn’t just heard his mother say fiddly bits .
“ Mom .”
It was nearing hour two of his mom’s monologue, and he desperately wanted to go inside to see how construction was going.
“Oh, don’t be so American,” she chastised. His mom was originally from Sweden, and her warm, slightly accented voice always felt like a cozy sweater. She and his dad had moved to Europe a few months ago after his dad had retired. “So, how’s work?”
He hadn’t told them about the bookshop yet. He would.
Someday.
When it’s successful.
“Oh, you know, just, um…” What could he tell her that was true? “...work has been busy. I’m launching a new project. Leading it.”
Not a lie, technically .
“We’re very proud,” she said, as a factual statement with little emotion. Ah, the Swedes. “Dad wants to say hi.”
“Heya, Chip!” His dad yelled into the phone far too loudly. His dad had always gotten a kick out of people saying Reed was a “chip off the old block,” following in his architecture footsteps, even though he was his adoptive stepfather.
His dad was athletic and charming, pretty much the opposite of Reed. So, Reed had pretended to like architecture as a kid so they’d have something to bond over. He’d spent a lifetime trying to live up to the high expectations of Ralph Berry’s celebrated architecture career.
“You’re leading a project?” his dad asked.
“Yep, it’s a big one,” Reed said, his eyes zeroed in on the front door of the bookshop.
This place needs a name , he thought idly.
“That’s the spirit.” His dad sounded so proud that it broke Reed’s heart a little. “With the hours you’re putting in, in a year or two, you could be a manager in a boutique firm. Your grandpa would be so proud.”
Reed was a third-generation architect. He’d felt like a real member of the Berry family when he’d decided to become an architect in fourth grade
The fact that he’d kind of hated it had been his long-held secret.
“Thanks, Dad.” He could almost taste the guilt roiling in his stomach, like the garlic aftermath of a heavy Italian dinner.
You are lying to your parents fully knowing they would not approve. They’d point out your failed ventures after high school, after college, and the single day of your ill-fated Groundhog Day food truck.
He just didn’t want to fail. He couldn’t let his grandpa down, the one person who had been a dreamer like him, and the reason he could even afford to buy the building in the first place. When he’d passed, he’d left Reed an unexpected inheritance with one direction: “For your dreams.”
This was his one shot to make something that was really him .
“All right, it’s time for our fika . That means coffee break,” his dad said with excitement.
Reed said goodbye and started to head inside, but the flower shop across the town square caught his eye.
What if the Parkers’ dad was his biological father? Did it change anything? He loved being a Berry, and he had cousins on his mom’s side on the West Coast. Plenty of family to make him feel like he belonged.
What would one even do with three sisters?
And why the hell did they have to be right across from the store he was financially forever tied to?
The nerves in his stomach eased as he walked through the door, distracted by the thwack of hammers.
Construction crews had been working nonstop since he’d gotten the keys. They’d put in new bookcases, started updating the bathrooms, and all of the other renovations his meticulously detailed blueprints had provided.
“Bert, my favorite contractor.” Reed stuck up his hand for a high five.
The older man in his sixties sighed and gave him a half-hearted high five.
Reed turned around for a backwards low five.
“I’m not doin’ the secret handshake.” Bert tucked a pencil behind his ear and went back to the blueprints.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be our thing.” Reed shot finger guns at him to loosen him up.
“Not gonna happen,” Bert said with a chuckle.
“I’m going to wear you down,” Reed said with happy confidence. “But, while I have you, I did have a new idea.”
Bert dropped his head at the news. He whistled over the noise of the construction. “Everybody, take five!”
Reed pulled out his new blueprint, and it unfurled to the floor.
“Make that ten!” Bert called over his shoulder, frowning. “Look, kid, this is the third change you’ve made in three days. Why don’t you sit on this and we’ll come back in a year and discuss it.”
Reed swiped away empty coffee cups on the makeshift sawhorse table. “Because I realized what was missing. We have a perfect kids’ section. We have this gorgeous checkout counter, but we don’t have…?” He wiggled his eyebrows in excitement, waiting for Bert to finish his sentence.
“...A big check with more money?” Bert asked.
“A nook! A big reading nook.” Reed smacked his sketch for effect.
“A nook?” Bert echoed, scratching his head.
“See, the nook will be inset on the stage.”
“The stage ?” Bert echoed with exasperation.
“Of course, for poetry readings, performances. Can’t be the center of the community without a stage. You’re gonna love the vision once you spend some time with the blueprints.” Reed patted Bert’s shoulder.
Jangling keys sounded, and a very curvy woman stood in shadow, surrounded by sunlight in the open doorway.
Reed gulped. She looked like a demon coming to collect his immortal soul.
A really hot demon.
“Uh, give me a minute, Bert. Use your imagination. Think positively!”
“I’ll sprinkle some friggin’ pixie dust on it,” Bert grumbled.
Reed jogged to Pearl. “Hey, roomie.”
Pearl wore a tight-fitting t-shirt knotted at the stomach, making a crop top that showed her soft, curvy stomach. Her black shorts were high-waisted and flowed to mid-thigh with a flounce. She wore torn fishnet tights underneath, a fashion choice Reed had always appreciated.
She pushed her black sunglasses up to her jet-black hair. She’d started dyeing it when they were in middle school, and he’d thought it had complemented her porcelain skin. It was like she’d been destined to become a goth queen.
She blinked and slowly swallowed her iced tea.
He knew Pearl. She wasn’t trying to be sexy but goddamn if he didn’t follow every movement—every flick, every glance, every move of her throat–as if he was studying for a test. He could write a dissertation on her thighs, her hands, her nails, the round apple of her cheeks.
She’d been his biggest crush in high school and had been so unattainable to him it was laughable . They’d been roommates for a couple of days, but he still hadn’t gotten used to seeing her.
“I’m in,” she said flatly.
He clapped his hands. “I knew it! We’re gonna be a dream team. This is going to be amazing. Should we get matching shirts? Maybe we should get lanyards .”
She rolled her eyes so hard he heard them creak. “No lanyards.”
“No, you’re right. We don’t have the final logo yet; the name still needs work. This is very exciting.” He did everything he could not to bounce in place. “To get started, we could do an 8 AM status meeting every day, and maybe start with team-building exercises like trust falls?—”
“I’m out.” She spun around.
“Okay, okay.” He jumped in front of her. “No trust falls.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“…And no 8 AM status meetings,” he conceded. “How about I make a list, and then you work on it from nine to five?”
“How about I do the list whenever I want?” She sucked the straw of her pink iced tea. The pink contrasted with her black nails, her black lips, her everything—and thoroughly distracted him.
Is it wise to hire a woman this hot? Wait, what am I saying. He mentally slapped himself. Be a professional.
“I trust you, of course. I just want to work together as much as possible so you get the vision. Here.” He motioned her inside. “Let me talk you through it first.”
He rolled out his most recent sketches on the makeshift sawhorse table. He’d sketched out what the bookstore would look like from the front door, unable to rest last night until it was perfect.
“Here’s the indie and local authors display, and the bestsellers,” he said, pointing to displays surrounding the circular staircase to the second floor. “Last night I made space for a reading nook. It’ll go with the stage where we can have events.”
“We?” Her eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“There’s no I in team, Pearl.”
Pearl rolled her eyes at him. “There’s no we in it either. What’s that?” Pearl pointed to the huge circle above the nook.
“A new, huge window, so we’ll get west-facing sun in the evening. Then at night, we’ll have inset lights to offset the flying book installation.” He swore he saw a smile ghost across her face.
“You’ll have flying books?”
“It’s an art installation. I think it’s important to create a wonder-filled vibe. That’s the whole point of this place. Make some magic.”
Her eyes scoured the sketch, all business now. “And this?” Her long nail pointed to the sketch with the back entrance.
“Those are bathrooms people can get to from the outside. There aren’t many public access bathrooms in town, and…I don’t know.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he stood up. “I just thought it was the right thing to do. There’s the genre fiction bookcases, the treehouse-themed kids’ section, and of course, a rolling book ladder that will run the first floor of the building.”
A high-pitched eep sounded beside him. Pearl bit her lip, but a smile cracked through.
“Was that excitement , Pearl Bishop?” God, she looks adorable when her eyes dance like that.
“What?” She scowled instantly. “I smile all the time. Don’t be ridiculous. Your ideas are, like…” She sighed. “They’re very good,” she said finally, as if admitting a deep secret.
Pearl never lied. It was what he appreciated about her the most. You always knew where you stood with her.
Her fingers traced his drawings, and he felt the caress land somewhere deep in his soul.
She likes it.
He could burst with happiness that someone saw his vision. He rolled his lips together, savoring the feeling of someone seeing him.
“I wanted something beautiful and functional. This is my last architecture project. Then all that’s left is to open it and then, I don’t know, maybe find somebody and raise a family?” He shrugged. “Or I guess be with my actual family that’s here.”
“ No .” She gasped as her eyes went wide. “The Parkers?—”
He put a finger to his mouth. The crew walked back in from their break. “I’m not sure how I feel about it. You can’t tell anybody.”
Pearl’s eyes went wide. “But this is huge . They’re always talking about not having a big family, how they miss their dad. This would be a big deal to them.”
“Which is why I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”
Pearl stared at her keys as she fiddled with them. “Well, they’re like, very nice .” She grimaced, as if it pained her to say it. “I’d murder anybody who looked at them sideways. Almost did, actually.”
She was an old softy; he’d been right. He leaned on the table, willing his body not to be drawn to hers. “Big words coming from our lady of eternal darkness. You don’t like anybody.”
Me included.
She leveled a gaze at him, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I stick out here. We moved here two years ago because the school in Elliotsville wouldn’t accommodate AB’s food allergy.”
“Bastards,” Reed commiserated.
“Exactly.” Her bottom lip pouted, and Reed so desperately wanted to bite it.
Nope, stop that. You’re coworkers now. She’s your assistant and you’ll pay her, so you can’t ogle her.
“I looked for jobs everywhere, but when you look like me, old farts don’t hire you. The Parkers have never treated me differently than anyone else. It’s been nice to be…accepted. Anyway.” She shook out her hair, looking embarrassed to have said too much. “Give me a list and I’ll start on it when I’m free.”
“Why don’t you compile a list of books to order and used bookstores we could scour. Oh, and furniture. Oh! And decor,” he interrupted himself, clapping his hands, remembering his other to-do list. “And I should show you the rest of the plans.”
He turned 180 degrees looking for them and then around one more time.
A firm hand yanked his bicep, halting him. Her hand was warm through his shirt sleeve and it sizzled on his skin, melting into his spine. He looked into her big hazel eyes.
“You’re only paying me to do one thing at a time, so let’s start with just one,” she said, making too much sense. “Plus, I can’t start until Monday. I have a full dog sitting, walking, boarding, and bathing day today, and then a twelve-hour shift tomorrow working a catering gig for two weddings.”
He nodded. “Okay. But then you’re mine?”
She blinked rapidly, looking caught off guard.
Shit.
He adjusted his glasses. “I—uh, I mean, you’re mine until I’m done with you.”
Fuck. Not better.
Pearl cocked her head. “Uh…”
“Shit. I-I mean, not like that,” he stuttered and bent over to catch his breath. “You won’t be with anybody else—Sorry! You won’t be working with anyone else. You can be with whomever you want.”
He pressed his hands under his glasses, mortified. “And I will pay you for your time because you’ll work for me in a strictly professional capacity.”
Awkward silence hung between them.
“This is a terrible idea. You and me,” she said.
“Yep.” He nodded, still not looking at her as his fingers pressed his eyes.
“Can’t wait,” Pearl said flatly and spun on her heel toward the door.
He sighed as she walked away, letting his eyes trace her thighs and ass one last time. She’s not technically my assistant yet, he told his conscience.
What a whirlwind of a life he’d walked into.
Possibly three sisters and a woman who hated him that he couldn’t get enough of.
Hemingway_cansuckit
So, what printer should I get?
Impossiblybookish
fuck if i know
Hemingway_cansuckit
Don’t you sell them?
What would a small business need
Impossiblybookish
right.
yes
i super do
but i focus more on industrial printers.
like, ones with lasers.
Hemingway_cansuckit
Industrial lasers?
Impossiblybookish
just find one on sale
ANYWHO
change of subject
did you see the rage-y discussion in the romantasy channel?
Hemingway_cansuckit
So many feelings about fairies
Impossiblybookish
i kind of get it.
people are protective over their fantasies.
i’d kill for some winged shadow daddy to sweep me away from this mortal coil
Hemingway_cansuckit
Damn. And me without wings.
Impossiblybookish
you’re kind of a fantasy h
sometimes i think about if life were different and we’d have just met
that’s the fantasy i have
Hemingway_cansuckit
I probably would have bumped into you at a bookstore
Apologized of course, immediately.
I’d have asked for your favorite book.
And bought it for you.
Or asked if I could buy you a cup of tea.
Impossiblybookish
not coffee?
Hemingway_cansuckit
I would never.
Somehow I’d know you preferred it.
Impossiblybookish
what section you think?
Hemingway_cansuckit
Poetry, of course
What type of poetry would you pick up there?
Impossiblybookish
A crostic was always my favorite
N ot any other type of poem
A s the reader’s eye moves down the first column
L ike it makes its own word
S eated in the bookstore with you
E lated, that’s what I’d be. ………
X ylophone
Hemingway_cansuckit
C an you imagine the
U nderwhelming feeling
T hat small poetry books
E voke, in a bookstore
Impossiblybookish
see? you get me
Hemingway_cansuckit
You’re my fantasy too, B
Probably a romantasy, now that I think about it
If you’re a dream, I hope I never wake up
Impossiblybookish
if this is a dream, could you try to sprout some wings?
Hemingway_cansuckit
Anything for you.