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“I should have called but…”
“Is it your gran?”
Harry is back. “Gran? Got a pic?”
I give him my best evil eye, but he just waves a hand in the air at me and returns to the aisle.
“Yeah. I’ll…um…organize the books for you.”
“They’re out.”
“I mean the ones we didn’t unbox.”
There are boxes of them that I’m not yet sure to do with on the third floor, but maybe if he does that, I can take care of things here and not have to redo whatever he does to my poor register. I smile brightly. Really, what I want to do is bury my face against his chest and breathe that scent of his down into my lungs. And maybe try the kissing that’s never happening again, again.
“Third floor.” I toss my keys to him. “You can’t miss the boxes. Just…organize them into groups until you can’t stand it anymore.”
For a moment he looks like he’s going to say something, but he just nods and turns and heads for the stairs.
And I tell myself I’m relieved.
“Tuesday Harry?” Magnus looks up at me from the aisle of books he’s walking down and my heart gives a little thrill. “Also, knitting?”
I wave my hands in the air. “He says it keeps arthritis at bay. He also says the romance novels he buys keeps his mind active, but I think he misses his wife. She died five years ago and he took over buying the things she did. Mostly he just comes in and doesn’t get books, but when he does, it’s those on the whole.”
“Gotcha.”
“He’ll occasionally pick up books he likes, too, racy thrillers and old school detective novels, but I think he really misses her. He asked more about your gran.”
Suddenly a wave of anxiety washes down over me. “Is she okay?”
“It was a bad night. I really should have called and—”
“You can take off all the time you need,” I say to him.
He hovers, then goes to make a coffee and I brace myself for calling in someone to fix it, but he makes two cups like a pro. He adds the sugar and the milk for me and gives me a piece of cake, even though I don’t ask for any.
And he looks down into his little cup. “I bet you didn’t charge him.”
“I did.”
But he laughs and shakes his head. “A dollar?”
My cheeks burn. “It’s my store.”
“You’ve a good heart, Zoey,” he says, sounding a little sad. Then he looks at me, and says, “About last night…”
Oh. God.
Chapter Nine
Magnus
The look on Zoey’s pretty face is priceless, like I’m about to press charges.
She doesn’t want to talk about it and I really don’t plan on doing that, but it’s perfect, and I need her thinking this guy she’s talking to, maybe developing soft feelings for, is sweet and worth her bleeding heart.
This morning I had so much fucking work I couldn’t get here earlier than I could. Pretending to be wholesome and inept is harder than it looks.
