Page 4 of Styx’s Storm

“Oh.” I rubbed my face. “This really is a good book.” I flipped it over and winced at the twenty-five-dollar price tag.

“Note the page you’re on and pick up where you left off the next time you come in.”

“I should buy it.” Certainly, it would be less than either of the two books of photographs.

He snagged it, along with the other two, and waved me off. “Your company is more important than a sale.”

I squinted.

“You entertained Miss Edna.”

That wasn’t true, but I wouldn’t call him out on it.

He glanced outside. “I think there’s a reprieve in the rain. You might want to hustle, though.”

I rose and held out my hand.

He tilted his head. Then he shook it.

I told him, “I’m more grateful than I can express.”

“Pay it forward sometime.” He held up the books. “At the very least, come back to read the rest. And if you need a place to crash, I’ve got an apartment over the store that’s sitting empty. Do you want to see it? I should’ve offered earlier.”

I waved him away. “I’m good.” I couldn’t believe this guy was just offering me a place to stay.

He shrugged. Then he extracted a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “It’s got my personal number.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. Look, I don’t exactly offer a place to everyone. You seem like good people. I mean, you listened to Miss Edna go on and on. Plus, if I’m honest, there’s nothing to steal and you can’t access the store. Unless you’re going to throw some party—”

“I don’t know anyone to invite.”

“Right. So give me a call if things don’t work out.” He saluted and headed back toward the front desk.

I grabbed my bag and was heading for the door when a tall, dark, handsome guy walked in.

He gave me curious look, his blue eyes sparkling. “Hey.”

Uncertain of the correct protocol, I waved. “Hey.”

“Hey, sweetie.” Dickens headed our way. He tucked himself against his much-taller husband, and then pivoted to me. “This is my hubby, Spike. Spike, this is—” He frowned. “Oh my God, I didn’t even ask your name.”

I shrugged. “Styx.”

“Styx?” Spike cocked his head, and a lock of his hair fell over his forehead.

“I’m in a rock band. It…suits.”

“Yeah, it really does.” Dickens gave me a once-over that had been missing before.

What does he see? I was as tall as his husband, but much leaner, with decent biceps, but not the broadness of the motorcycle mechanic. We shared dark hair and blue eyes, but Spike’s black mop and pale-azure eyes were more striking than my brown curls and dark blue. Dickens was a lucky guy. “I need to take off.” I caught Dickens’s gaze. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You have my number.”

“Huh?” Spike frowned.

Dickens chuckled. “I’ll explain later. You want to cuddle with Ari?”