Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
"Thanks." I grin, poking through the stack. Twice a year, we hold a big basement sale, where members of the community can buy the books no longer in circulation or books donated by others in the community. The funding helps us purchase new materials. Lilah is great about contributing damaged copies from the bookstore to the sale.
"A couple of those are signed."
"Seriously?" I lift the cover of one of Cassia Murphy's newest books to see her signature scrawled across the title page. "Oh, nice. You're my favorite bookstore owner, you know that?"
Lilah makes a noise, propping one hand on her hip. "I better be," she sasses. "I provide you all the smut your dirty little heart desires, and I only make you work for it sometimes."
I laugh quietly, moving the books beneath the counter.
"Speaking of which…have you seen Jazz?"
"Yes." My lips twitch. "She was here earlier, trying to convince me to disappear into the back for five minutes while she looked up River's home address."
Lilah groans, covering her face with her hands. "That girl is going to wind up in jail."
"Yep," I agree with a little laugh. "And I am not aiding and abetting. I told her to come back Wednesday. She can harass him in public like a normal person. Figured it'd be safer for everyone that way."
Lilah pulls her hands away from her face, sighing heavily. "You do not know her nearly well enough if you believe that, Loralei. She's going to drive the man up the damn wall until he agrees to talk to Book Club."
"He's not going to agree." I don't know River well, but he's been coming here every other week since he moved to the area. Frankly, he's a grump with a bad attitude. There's not a chance in hell Jazz is going to talk him into coming to talk to Book Club. But she's determined, so I'm going to let her find that out the hard way. It's all I can do at this point. Well, that and hope she doesn't actually get herself thrown into jail. Because he will absolutely call the police on her if she annoys him enough.
"We'll see," Lilah says with a shrug. "You coming to the bookstore tonight?"
"Um…maybe for a little while. I have some stuff to do."
"What kind of stuff?"
Dinner with my favorite rockstar.
"Just stuff," I say, carefully avoiding her gaze. I'm not a very good liar…and I'm also not entirely sure Ash wants everyone to know that he's in town. Lilah is one of my closest friends. I trust her with my life. But this is different.
For starters, I don't even know what to say. I spent the weekend in bed with Ash Kilborne, and he wants to keep seeing me doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Truthfully, I'm not sure I'm ready to share it yet. I want it to be just mine for a little while longer. Is that so wrong? No, of course not.
But I feel the weight of Lilah's gaze boring into me.
"Why are you blushing?"
"What?" I grab a book from the stack waiting to be checked in. "I'm not blushing. It's just hot in here."
"Uh-huh," she says, still staring at me. "You look funny, too. All…glowy."
"New makeup," I lie.
"Right," she says, drawing the word out to make it clear she thinks I'm full of shit. "Well, whatever you're busy doing, be safe, okay? And I'm here if you want to talk about it."
I swallow hard, suddenly intensely grateful for her. My gaze tangles with hers, a swell of gratitude lodged in my throat. "I will," I whisper. "Thanks, Lilah."
She stares at me for another long moment, then shrugs, waves, and strides toward the doors.
I droop against the counter as soon as she's gone, my heart hammering. I'm not good at this, at sneaking around and pretending everything is normal. It's not normal.
"What am I doing?" I groan, burying my face in my hands. I'm not entirely sure I have an answer…but I do know I don't want to stop whatever is going on with Ash. The thought alone feels a little like it's crushing the breath from my lungs.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a scratchy voice says from the opposite side of the counter.
I drop my hands, glancing up. And then I snort, trying to contain laughter. Ash is standing in front of the counter in a baseball cap, oversized sunglasses, and a leather jacket, clearly trying to remain incognito. He sticks out like a sore thumb.
"Do you have time to help me find the most private part of the library?" he asks in that same scratchy falsetto, one brow arching above his sunglasses. The wicked smile on his face makes my stomach dip and spin.
"That'd be the basement."
"Yes, the basement."
I hesitate, glancing around. There are a few patrons scattered around, browsing shelves or working at the computer station. The part-time librarian, Mena, is shelving books in the nonfiction section.