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To save me.
Or… fictional gran.
It would almost be delicious if it wasn’t such a diabolical plan.
Chapter Six
Zoey
By the end of the day, no customers have come in since the heavens opened and the goon left. I peer anxiously at the deepening gray and the non-stop rain. He’s there behind me. I can see him, a wavery large figure behind me in the glass that runs with rivulets.
“Hot date?”
I almost laugh at that. I can’t really remember when I last had a date, hot or otherwise.
“No. Just thinking…”
He sighs, his fingers dancing lightly, fleetingly, over my shoulder, sending little shivers of awareness racing hot through my blood.
“Probably of firing me.”
I turn, but he doesn’t step back and we’re close. His heat surrounds me, along with his evocative scent that twines with the ever present smell of old books, and twists into something that makes my mouth water. I tip my face to him. “No. You’re sparkly new. The wrapper’s only just come off. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He smiles and threads a curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering a moment. “I hope so. You don’t know what this means to me.”
Magnus looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and instead he moves back and I follow him, down through the aisles of books as he straightens them even though they’ll never be straight. And it’s not like we’ve had teeming throngs of people in here, pawing over everything. Not with the rain and the storm. Not like that ever happens, anyway.
“Your gran?”
He doesn’t look at me, almost like he’s embarrassed. “Something like that. Yeah.”
I take a breath and lean against the Westerns. “Life has a way of working out.”
“Are you always some kind of eternal optimist?” He cuts me a quick glance, long fingers moving over the spines of old thrillers.
“Not really,” I say. It’s a bit of a lie, but if I admit that, I’ll sound like some kind of sickening Pollyanna type. “I just don’t see the point of letting things you can’t change get you down. Proactive is the way ahead.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He pulls out a book and pushes it back into its place. “Anyway, I should go.”
“You’re welcome to stay until this madness outside stops.”
“I’m a big boy, I can take it.” And he straightens, moves slowly past me, almost brushing me, and the slide of air between our bodies is like a gossamer kiss and I can barely breathe.
At the end of the aisle, he stops and the look he gives me makes my heart lurch. There’s something else going on, I can see that, like words dance on his tongue, but he won’t give them voice. But it isn’t my business. We don’t know each other. Not yet. I don’t want to chase him off.
He’s about to turn the corner into the center of the store and I find myself following. “Magnus, we don’t… I mean, you and I don’t know each other that well, but if you need anything, you know, even someone to sit with your gran or bring soup or something, let me know.”
He smiles, and it’s sad, and he just says, “You gave me a job.”
It’s not until long after he’s gone I realize he forgot the treats.
Magnus Simpson is smart, gorgeous, complex and has no idea what he’s doing.
It’s a few days later, evening, and I’m ready for bed. The skies are still heavy but no rain and Magnus…well…
He can’t use the register without making me work about three hours untangling the mess at the end of the day, and he also isn’t great at sales. Not that I’m into pushing people into buying things, which is good because otherwise I’d have to fire him.
But he’s great at organizing my shelves and he listens to me and I’ve also noticed an uptick in people coming in over the past few days.
