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As I opened the front door to the building, I looked at my phone to confirm the train schedule and stopped just short of running into a muscled wall again. This time, the muscles were covered with a grey shirt and gym shorts, the shirt soaked through and darkened with sweat. I could tell from the woodsy scent it was Hayden before I lifted my head to make eye contact.
When had I scent-marked him? Not good, Charlotte.
“Charlotte,” he said, nodding his head in greeting as he grabbed the door from me and held it open so I could pass.
“Hayden,” I responded, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his face and not follow the trail a bead of sweat created down his cheek and to the collar of his shirt. This backfired on me when I realized I had been staring and blocking the doorway for longer than was socially polite. I jerked into motion, brushing past him and schooling myself to not look back as I walked toward the Metro station.
Okay, my apartment interloper was criminally hot, and apparently worked to keep himself that way. That was an objective fact, like the sky was blue and water was wet. Austin and I would find a way to get under his skin, all the same. And if he happened to notice how good my ass looked in this dress, well, that was a bonus.
For now, it was time to forget about Mr. Brandt and focus on… focusing.
As my train arrived at the stop closest to the Independent Bookseller Alliance, known colloquially as the IBA, I felt much calmer and more prepared than I had yesterday. In part, it was because I realized that today couldn’t go much worse than yesterday had. By odds alone, it had to be better.
After a quick walk from the station to Gallery Place, the building that housed the offices of the IBA, I put my stuff down at my desk and noticed I had some time to kill before my first meeting of the day. Time to get the caffeine I skipped while trying to avoid Hayden this morning.
I was making my latte in the kitchen when Marta—thank goodness for that company directory—entered.
“Hi, Charlotte. Happy second day!”
“Thanks, Marta! I started listening to that thriller you recommended yesterday. It’s really creepy! Makes me glad I’m not at home in my small town right now. I think I slept better knowing I’m in the big, scary city.”
Marta smiled at me.
“Well, let me know when you’re done with that one. I’ve got a ton more to recommend.”
“I definitely will. I prefer romance novels over anything else, but really want to give more genres a try while I’m working here, see if I can become a more well-rounded reader.”
“I’ll definitely take any romance recommendation you have. I could use a break from the murder books once in a while. So, what brings you to the big, scary city and the IBA?”
I thought for a second about how honest and transparent to be with this virtual stranger, even one I could see becoming a friend. I had laid it all out on my application. Part of the reason I got the internship, I think. Why not see if it resonated more widely as well?
“I’m from a small town in New England where my parents run an independent bookstore. I didn’t go to college right after high school, so I could stay home and help them run it. I love them, and I love Ridge Reads, don’t get me wrong, but I have this feeling like I could be doing more, ya know? I love the idea of working with books forever, but don’t necessarily love the idea of never leaving the town and life I was born into. So, when I saw the chance open up to work with the IBA’s Bookstore Future Fund, I jumped at it. My background is in PR and marketing, so the fundraising is going to be new, but I’m excited about it.”
Marta nodded along the whole time I talked, and when I finished to take a breath and sip the coffee that was cooling in my hands, she broke into a large grin.
“I could sense a real ‘books’ person in you. It’s no surprise at all that Paula gave you the job. You’ll learn a ton working for her, even if the work is hard.”
I felt myself smiling back at my new work friend.
“That’s what I’m hoping. Speaking of Paula, I better get back to my cube to be sure I’m prepped for our one-on-one this morning. Maybe we can get lunch sometime this week?”
“That sounds like a plan. I’ll message you. Have a great morning, Charlotte.”
I exited the kitchen, walking back toward my desk, taking in my coworkers as they started to arrive for the day. The walls of the hallways and conference rooms were lined with photos of different independent bookstores across the country that belonged to the IBA.
I wonder if Ridge Reads is pictured here anywhere. I’ll have to keep an eye out.
I reviewed the onboarding documentation I had been set up with yesterday until the meeting reminder went off for my check in with Paula Lapman, the Vice President for New Initiatives at the IBA and the head of the Bookstore’s Future Fund. Paula’s tenure with the IBA spanned over thirty years and she was a bit of a legend in the indie bookstore community. I was excited to work with her.
I nodded to her assistant, Raúl, and knocked on her door at 9:00 a.m. sharp.
“Come in,” I heard from within the office.
Pushing the door gently, I took in the corner office on the third floor. The windows looked out on the bustling streets below, showing four exercise studios, three coffee shops, and two bakeries, just in the immediate frame of view. Paula’s office looked how I imagined an editor’s office would appear, with bookshelves artistically lined with books, photos of Paula and major players in the literary industry, and a comfy couch and chairs combo in the corner. Paula stood up from her desk as I crossed the threshold and indicated toward that space. I sat down in one of the blue suede chairs, while she moved toward the opposite one.
“Good morning, Charlotte. Glad to see you back on day two. How was your first day?”
Filtering had never been a strong suit of mine, and before I could stop myself, I was laughing a bit maniacally and covering my face with my hands.
