Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
More often than not, I'd be the person who wants to be alone because people speaking their minds when they should keep their mouths shut annoys the hell out of me, but I've missed interactions with others lately.
I sense him behind me before he speaks, but I don't turn around immediately.
My feelings shouldn't be hurt that we shared what we did last night, and then he scurried away the second I fell asleep.
"What's for breakfast?"
This question has me turning around to face him slowly, even though I want to spin and splash my hot coffee in his face.
I swear this man has the ability to make me think I'm bipolar with how easily he makes my moods shift just by opening his talented, stupid mouth.
I blink at him, refusing to acknowledge how cute he looks with pillowcase wrinkles on his cheek.
I point to the bag of bagels on the counter, doing my best not to chuckle when his face falls.
"Any casserole left?" he asks with hope in his tone.
"Nope," I say, refusing to admit that I've been eating it for damn near every meal since I baked it the other morning. "I'm working at the shop. Have a good day."
I dress in a rush and feel a little grateful that he's nowhere to be seen when I dip out of the house. I knew better than to agree to let him stay there, and the regret in agreeing to it doubles the second I get out of my car at the bookstore. I rush to hold the door open for a woman with her hands full of purchases, wishing I could disappear when I look up into the eyes of none other than Rebecca Shears. She's Kalen Alexander's mom, and God love the woman, she's great, but she has to be the nosiest person in town.
"Hi," I say to her, wishing she'd move a little faster so I can get inside without being the subject of one of her famous interrogations.
"Hi, dear," she says with an easy smile. "Was that Mac's truck I saw parked at your house this morning?"
"He swung by for a recipe," I say, the lie rolling easily off my tongue.
"Did he forget it when he was there last night after leaving that mark on your neck?"
"Have a great day," I say, stepping inside and refusing to answer her question, my hand covering the spot I did my best to cover with makeup this morning.
"Whatcha got under there?" Sage asks with a knowing smile as she approaches, her hand reaching out to pull my hand away.
She chuckles when I smack at her hand.
"Mac marked you?" she asks as if she knows that he had to be the one to leave a hickey on my neck.
"I burned myself with my curling iron," I say as I slide past her.
"You don't own a curling iron," she reminds me, calling out my lie.
I look back over my shoulder and smile when I see the one on her face. I wish this was one of those times that we could get all giddy and share stories about boys we like, but the man fucked me into a near coma last night and slinked out of my bedroom the first chance he got. That leaves a girl feeling a certain kind of way.
Sage must recognize my desire to leave the topic alone because she doesn't say another word about men or hickeys and, most importantly, about Mac.
We spend the day unboxing book shipments and finding room in the store to put them.
"I think I'll either need to start ordering less, or I'm going to have to have a sale," she says when she comes back with the same stack of books she carried to put out just a few minutes ago.
"Sales are really down, huh?"
"Not too bad," she says with an easy smile, but Sage is always so optimistic. "The bigger issue is the requirement of the wholesalers requiring a certain threshold of books for an order. The latest dark romance is great, but having to order a minimum of ten when there's only a handful of people who would even pick it up to read the synopsis on the back… the math doesn't math."
"Is it mostly certain genres?"
"Romance, and a couple of niche subgenres under that."
I know exactly which books she's talking about, and the store has seen an influx of college students who have fallen down social media rabbit holes and don't have the patience to order books online where they can find them less expensive.
"Maybe offer a discount to those that read those types of books," I offer.
"I don't think I can say people who read dark romance get a discount," she says. "Can you imagine the gossip from that?"
"No," I agree. "But you can give college students a discount. I know you already offer it on textbooks, but what about on all purchases?"