Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Loud laughter comes from behind me, but when I turn to glare at my boss, it’s hard not to laugh with him. He’s trying to contain it, which only makes his face look strained, and his cheeks turn pink.
He waves his hand and abandons his spot where he’s putting the new stock out on shelves, no doubt retreating to the back room to compose himself.
“Uh …” I have no idea what to tell Mrs. Embry.
“Whatever it is, this man sure likes it being pegged. I’m sold.” She hands me the book to ring it up at the cash register, and it takes a second for me to process what just happened.
“Are you sure you want this one?”
“This is good.”
“All right.” Can’t argue with a sure woman.
I’ve definitely learned that through my dating life. My sad, pretty pathetic dating life, really.
As I’m making the transaction at the counter, a young guy steps into the store. Probably a college student.
He takes off his beanie and shakes out his light brown hair.
I give Mrs. Embry her book and a smile before making my way over to the new customer. “Hi, can I help you find anything in particular?”
His gaze meets mine, and I can’t help noticing the different shades of hazel in each eye. One is a honey-brown color, and the other is a mixture of green and brown hues.
I try not to stare, because I’m sure he gets questions all the time. Like if he was born that way or got pushed into a vat of radioactive waste.
“I hope you can help me. The library doesn’t have any in, and I’ve been looking online, but it won’t get here in time, and I’m really hoping you have one in stock, and I realize this is probably the longest sentence in history, so I’ll stop talking now.”
I grin. “I might need the name of the book before you stop talking completely.”
“Oh. Right. That would help. Uh, it’s Fundamentals of Agricultural Economics.”
“Sounds like a fun class.”
Either he doesn’t pick up on my dry tone, or he ignores it. “It is. In a constantly changing climate, sustainability in the farming sector is more unpredictable than ever before. Coming up with innovative ways to use natural resources— And I just realized you were being sarcastic. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s good to be passionate about something.”
The passion I once had for life, for my future, for everything, was taken away from me four years ago, and I haven’t figured out how to get it back yet. I’m twenty-six and don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I had a plan. A smart person would’ve had a plan B. Now the thought of making any kind of plans makes me break out in hives.
“The agriculture section is this way if you want to start looking, but I’ll go check the computer to see if we have it in stock.”
“Thanks, man.”
I’m halfway through typing the title into the computer when movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. The college kid takes off his thick coat, revealing a Burlington U hockey windbreaker underneath.
My fingers freeze on the keys.
Just when I thought this day was getting better, the universe takes a nice big sucker punch to my gut.
I fucking hate hockey.
“Rainn?” Harrison says, appearing next to me.
I shake out of my stupor and turn to him. “W-what?”
“Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Yeah, the ghost of a person I used to be.
I glare at the offending jacket that’s mocking me.
The guy’s big hand runs over the bookshelf. He’s taller than me but not by much, and he has the body of a forward. Sleek, muscular lines and not too bulky. He’s built for speed, not enforcing. I immediately wonder what position he plays and hate myself for it.
Because I shouldn’t care.
I hate hockey.
And if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it one day.
“Want me to take over with this customer?” Harrison asks.
Is it being petty if I say yes? Probably, but I’m going to take him up on the offer anyway.
Harrison’s staring at me with genuine concern, and my voice gets stuck in my throat.
“Found it.” The hockey player slaps a book down on the counter, and I flinch.
“I can ring you up,” Harrison says, taking the book. “Rainn, can you go finish what I started over there?” He points to the new display.
I leave them to it, but when the guy goes to leave, he stops next to me.
“Sorry, did that guy say your name was Rainn? As in Rainn Richardson?”
My face must answer for me, because his lights up.
“Holy shit, no way. This is so cool. You’re, like, a hockey god on campus.”
Was. I was a hockey god. I swallow hard.
“I remember seeing you play when I was in high school, and I was so bummed you were going to graduate the year before I could play on the same team as you. Though we play the same position, so it’s not like we’d be on the same line or anything.”