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Maybe it’s the way the dress shows off her small waist, or the neckline hints at her modest cleavage.
Or the rosy glow to her cheeks that no doubt came from her running around earlier. She was probably out feeding the homeless. If there were lepers, no doubt she’d be there, ready to help.
I’m being a bit of a bastard. Maybe she doesn’t give a shit about lepers. I haven’t asked. I don’t intend to.
Right, I need to get my mind on track, back to my nonexistent dear old gran. And the plight of my made up life.
I need to find out more of Zoey’s weaknesses, and thinking of sex and her bleeding heart isn’t going to help.
She hooks a curl behind an ear and smiles up at me. “I’ve been up baking a storm since four am,” she says by way of explanation to the boxes of books sitting on the floor. “And I forgot I had a small shipment coming in.”
“Where do you get the books from?”
“Estate sales sometimes. Other times, people donate. And when I have time—I try to take time once a month—I poke about the tristate area. You’d be surprised what lurks in the strangest of places.”
“Like under trees?” I look at her, picking up a couple of hard covers from an open box. I’ve never heard of these authors. Where are the blockbusters? The known writers? She clearly has no idea what the fuck she’s doing.
If she did, she’d have sold to me at the first offer.
“Junk shops, garage sales—”
“Secondhand bookshops, am I right?”
The color in her cheeks heightens. “Sometimes. I actually occasionally get some new books in. I’ll set up over here and, and then I can show you around. I open in an hour so we should have time.”
I frown. “Your door was unlocked.”
“I didn’t know when you’d turn up, or if you would.” She comes up and puts one hand on the books I’m holding. “I never got any of your details or told you how much.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Now she frowns, and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing. Of course it matters. Or it would, if I were actually Magnus Simpson. Shit.
I take a breath. “I mean, I’m just grateful to have a job that gives me time to help Gran.”
“I never told you the hours.”
“You said part time, and…” I’m going to have to skirt a little closer to the truth, use it to get to her. I’m here to learn her weaknesses, what makes her tick, find the way to get her to sell. I’m not really sure what that is, but I do know I’m good at puzzles and spending time day to day’s going to give me that key.
“And honestly?” I look at Zoey again. “I’m just happy to have anything. Whatever hours you have, I can make work. Whatever you pay, I can make work. I have some savings, I just need extra to help Gran. You know…”
“I do. And I’m so sorry you’re going through this. If I had a million dollars, I’d give it to you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I like to help. I don’t see the point of hoarding money or things if you can’t share and spread the goodness. I sound like an idiot, I know, but it’s true. There’s enough in the world to make everyone’s lives better.”
“One woman can’t save the planet.”
“Maybe, but sometimes, all it takes is one person doing one small thing. So… that’s my aim.”
I’m really not sure what to say. So I just nod and smile.
“So before we open—”
“You want the resume? IRS details?”
Her eyes get big. “Not the last. I mean…” She drops her voice and says, “You’re struggling so I’ll pay under the table for now and later we can talk. But take care of your gran first. I can’t pay a lot. Fifteen an hour? Is that good? We can do… say …twenty or twenty-five hours a week?”
