Back to September, page 5
“Right. You don’t see as many book tours these days, so I imagine they’re being frugal even with the bigger names.”
“That’s exactly the case.” She dabbed the mustard herself, and I grieved for the moment that would never be. “So, I count myself lucky that they’re invested at all. But it can be a lot. I have trouble being…I don’t know…on. At least, for quite so many days at one time.”
“Well, as a quieter person, I can certainly identify with the sentiment.”
“Right? And all I really want is a pair of comfy socks, some yoga pants, and a damned cheeseburger that’s so good it gets all over my face.”
I inclined my head in the direction of the pertinent evidence. “One out of three. You’re off to a nice start.”
“It’s fucking amazing. Let me tell you.”
We laughed together at that.
When the bill came, Parker snatched it up without hesitation, and though I didn’t want to be overly nosy, I did catch that she’d left an incredibly generous tip. I wondered what that must be like, having money to share with others so freely. “I don’t know what your situation is tonight, if you have somewhere to be, but do you want to grab a drink at the bar? I’m having a really nice time.”
I followed her gaze to Harry’s well-stocked bar behind me and didn’t have to give it much thought. I was having a nice time as well. The nicest in a long time, actually. “Let’s do it.” We picked out two stools, and the muscular barkeep tossed two coasters in front of us. “What are we drinking?”
“Old fashioned, extra cherries,” Parker told him without hesitation.
“Oh, um…” I glanced around for a menu, but there wasn’t one within reach. I wasn’t good at this. I wanted to have a signature cocktail the way Parker did to just toss out there like a boss. Unfortunately, I was more simplistic in my choices. Less cool. “I’ll take a boring red wine.”
“You find red wine boring?” Parker asked, and swiveled her stool so she faced me, our knees staggered. Yep, she was definitely in my space, and I could feel the warmth from her leg against mine. I swallowed. My everything tightened.
“I don’t, actually. I don’t know why I said that. Probably because your drink sounds more exciting.”
“Oh, it’s not. I love wine. Have you been to Napa in the spring?”
“I’ve not been at all. But wine has recently been a new hobby of mine. I’m trying to learn as I go.” I tucked my hair behind my ear.
She paused and met my gaze. “One day, you’ll go.” She said it like she knew it would happen, and I realized that her personality was infectious because I started to believe it, too. Was this how she sold so many books? “Tell me, what does the owner of a bookstore like to read?”
This was an answer I didn’t have to grapple for. “The classics are always a comfortable place for me. Jane Austen, F. Scott Fitzgerald, even his early stuff. I know.” I gave my head a shake, then began to count off on my fingers. “Mary Shelley. Harper Lee. More recently, Margaret Atwood, like the rest of modern society. Oh, and Toni Morrison. I’ve also been known to lose myself in a good Grisham on a rainy weekend, and I’m a big J.K. Rowling fan.” I was smiling, because I loved talking about my favorites, who almost felt like old friends to me. It’s what made me want to open a bookstore in the first place, so I could be surrounded by their stories every day and introduce them to others.
“Those are all great choices.” Parker accepted her drink from the bartender and raised her glass to him. After a long sip, “This is really good.” That’s when I realized I hadn’t mentioned her books at all, which I felt really awful about.
“I like your work, too.” It sounded lame now, an afterthought, because it was.
She laughed with kindness. “No need to say that. You don’t have to read my books to be my friend. That’s never been a requirement of mine.”
“Well…” I wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re great at your job. The romance genre is huge. It keeps my lights on, so really I should say thank you.”
“I love my job. That’s thanks enough.” She touched her cocktail glass to my wine goblet. “Cheers to good books and new friends.” We smiled at each other. “You’re really beautiful, you know that? Stunning.” She turned back to her drink.
I took a moment to swallow my wine, delaying the process because I wasn’t clear on what smart, flirtatious, or alluring thing would sound okay leaving my lips. “Thank you,” was all I managed. I sipped my wine again and set it on the bar. “And I don’t have a situation. The thing you said about it earlier? If I had somewhere to be, or a situation. I don’t.” Oh, man. Why did I say that? I had no idea why I couldn’t just be a normal human, cool when I needed to be, laid back other times.
Parker’s grin started slowly and grew. “Good to know.” I felt a warm shiver move up my back, because it was clear she meant it. “You can be honest. You’ve never read a book of mine, have you?”
“Um, I probably have. I’ve read romance.”
She shook her head, amused. “You have not.”
“Read romance? I have.”
“One of mine.”
“Oh. Well. I will. This week.”
“You definitely don’t have to. But what do you have against it?” She downed her drink and signaled for another round. I needed to catch up, and thereby took a big gulp from my glass. Then another. Apparently, the stuff was working fast because I felt extra warm all of a sudden and touched my own cheeks. Luckily, it was a good, relaxing warm.
“I don’t have anything against it.” I paused, wanting to be honest yet polite. Definitely not wanting to sound like Brandon from the other night. “I think there’s an idealism there, however.”
“Ah, a cynic. Are you a part of the love sucks club?”
“What? Oh, no. I wouldn’t go that far. I just think real relationships are maybe a little less wonderful than romance novels would have us believe. I think they’re nice for an escape, though. They serve a great purpose.”
I saw a fire ignite in her eyes. “This is where you and I differ. I believe love in the real world can be just as amazing, just as transformative.”
“Ah, a romantic,” I said, mirroring her earlier delivery.
“Touché.” She clinked our glasses as round two arrived. “But don’t you want it to be real? The longing, the passion, the connection to another human to the point that you just can’t breathe without them?”
“Of course I want it, but do you believe that truly exists off the page? Have you ever experienced it?”
“No, but I want to. And I believe I just might one day.” She tapped the top of the bar with her finger. “Love like that exists.”
“If you say so. It wouldn’t be awful to be wrong on this one.”
She turned to the bartender and raised her hand. “Excuse me, sir? Yes, sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. What is your name?”
He ambled over and I noticed him subtly flex his biceps as his gaze swept over Parker and then me. I smothered a smile. “Arlo.”
“Arlo, have you ever been in love?” Parker leaned in, chin resting on her palm.
His whole face softened and he got an unexpected faraway look in his eye. “Yeah. I had a girl once.” It was like his whole body sighed in surrender.
“How did you feel about her?” Parker asked.
“She was my whole world. Sun, moon, all of it.”
Parker nodded, engrossed. “So, you believe in a ‘love conquers all’ mentality?”
“Nope.” He frowned. “Fuck that. She cheated on me with my best buddy, but it was pretty fucking great while it lasted.”
I didn’t hold back my laughter this time. Arlo glanced over at me, and I held up a hand. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry for what happened.”
“Thanks,” he said, still sulking a bit. He tossed a towel onto his shoulder. “I’ll find another one day. What is it they say? Back in the saddle.” He knocked on the bar and walked away to serve another customer.
“I don’t know whose point he just proved,” Parker said, looking confused.
“Definitely mine. The relationship went up in a ball of flames.” I shook my head. “Not a romance novel kind of conclusion. Score one for me.”
Parker didn’t look like she bought it. “Oh, I don’t know about that. If it hadn’t ended badly, it would have definitely been a win in my column.”
I looked at her. “We have columns. Things are getting serious between us.” Yeah, the wine was definitely loosening me up. That sounded halfway coquettish.
“Are you flirting with me?” Parker narrowed her gaze in a playful manner. Parker Bristow was gay and made no secret of that in the media. I’d known before she arrived. That part wasn’t news. The fact that I was now feeling comfortable with her was.
“Half flirting.” I raised a shoulder, which was half of the shoulders I had.
“Damn. What am I supposed to do with that? Halfway reciprocate?”
I didn’t know how to answer, so instead drank a little more, all the while feeling her watching me. I liked it. I felt alive and playful and courageous. All things I didn’t feel very often.
“I have an idea,” she said, finally. “You can shoot me down. I’ll find a way to heal.”
“Okay,” I swiveled around in my stool so that our legs were once again staggered.
“Show me these cats of yours. The sandwich cats.”
She wanted to go back to my place. A quick inventory had me nervous as hell, but also not ready to say good-bye to this woman quite yet. I still couldn’t get over her hair and how beautiful it was with its long, subtle curls. I just wanted to slide my fingers through its thick strands. Her eyes, wide and expressive, had held me captive all night. I could stare into them forever. The daydream made me warmer than the wine had. “All right. They’d love to meet you and then promptly ignore you.” I signaled Arlo. “I’m paying for these.”
She grinned. “If you insist.”
* * *
My apartment was dim when we entered, but through the slight illumination, I scanned the living room for any kind of clutter or embarrassing laundry items I should promptly throw my body upon to hide. Luckily, the only thing askew was a fluffy white blanket unfolded on the couch from last night’s TV watching. Surely she’d get over that.
Parker wasn’t shy about exploring and moved right past me into the living room. “Oh, I love it. This is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I placed my hands on my hips, watching her gaze move across the worn, brown leather couch, the plush white throw rug that matched the curtains I’d hung several feet above the windows themselves to make the small room feel much bigger than it was. Thank goodness for old buildings with high ceilings. “It’s not fancy or large, but I’ve tried to make it home.”
“I don’t know you very well, Hannah, but at the same time? This feels like you. At least, everything I’ve seen about you so far.”
I shrugged. “Then I’ve not done too bad.”
She pointed at Bacon, my large gray and white guy, who sat perched on the back of my oversized leather armchair. “Friendly?”
“The friendliest. If you scratch his head, he’s your soulmate for life, so choose wisely.”
I watched as she ignored my warning, pulling a low purr from Bacon. She got a little closer and nuzzled his neck. He loved it, and I loved watching him get such fearless attention. The purring escalated to motor status. Right on cue, Tomato appeared from the small hallway that led to my bedroom to check out why her brother was getting attention when she, the superior feline, was not first in line. I inclined my head. “Now you’ve done it.”
Parker paused midnuzzle and glanced up. Her makeup from the signing earlier had faded, and though she was every bit as gorgeous, there was a youthful quality present now, too. “Hey there, little girl.” Parker knelt and allowed Tomato, my orange and white striped cat, to approach her slowly. All the while, Tomato tossed sideways glances at Bacon, as if to say, “you stay right there, putz.” She allowed Parker to pet her exactly three times before continuing on her way slowly, head high, like the royalty she believed herself to be. Sometimes I imagined her waving to her imaginary subjects.
I leaned forward. “Tomato says, ‘You’re welcome.’”
“I got that impression,” Parker said, straightening. Her gaze landed on the couch and she all but fell back onto it with a weary sigh. “Two old fashioneds, and I’m feeling the effects of the long day.”
“You talked to a lot of readers. That’s understandable. Tired?”
She nodded and held out her hand for me. I didn’t hesitate long before sliding into the spot next to her. The surreal quality from earlier, the one that kept reminding me I was having dinner with Parker Bristow, of all people, had faded into the recesses of my brain. Now I simply enjoyed her company and the little hints of tension I felt vibrating between us. We felt like two people, enjoying each other on an unexpected Saturday night. With her forefinger, she traced a circle on the back of my hand. “Do you date women, Hannah?”
The question was late in the game, but valid. “Yes. I’ve dated men, too.”
She nodded and continued to tickle my hand with her fingertips, causing a very primal reaction that started in my chest and crept lower. She pulled my hand into her lap, turned it over, and kissed my palm. It was a simple gesture but sent a shiver through my body in the most wonderful sense. And that was all. She placed my hand on her chest, held it there, and closed her eyes. I laid my cheek against the cool leather of the couch cushion and studied her. My heart pounded, but my head took over. “Parker. You okay?”
A faint smile appeared. She opened her eyes and turned her cheek, mirroring my position. “I am. It’s been a really nice day. I feel like I’ve escaped everything in my world that’s been weighing on me. Being here with you is really nice.”
“For me, too.”
But her eyes closed again, and her breathing shifted to the relaxed, long breaths one takes when they’re asleep. I smiled. Perhaps that streak of insomnia had reached its end. I watched her sleep for a few moments and then slowly pulled my hand away, careful not to wake her. I walked quietly into my kitchen where I prepared dinner for the cats and glanced at the clock, surprised by how much time we’d killed together between dinner, drinks, and our walk home. It was later than I thought, which explained Parker’s exhaustion. When I returned to the couch, she’d slumped to the side with her feet now tucked beneath her, perfectly content with where she was. How was I supposed to disturb her now? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Instead, I smiled and took the blanket from the edge of the couch and covered her. The weight of the fabric and the soft comfort it likely provided prompted her to stretch out a bit more. I didn’t understand quite how, but I knew that Parker needed this. A night away. “Hey, Parker?” I asked quietly, adjusting the blanket around her.
She blinked a couple of times and looked up at me. “I’m sorry. I guess I feel asleep. I never do that. Ever.” Another glance around to orient herself. “I can go.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can stay right where you are tonight, if you’d like.”
“I can? Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
She smiled up at me. “Okay.”
I nodded. “I’ll text Bernie and let her know where you are.”
“Thank you,” she said in a sleepy voice, and drifted off again. I waited a moment, feeling out of sorts, because there was a strange, wonderful woman, who was also kind of a celebrity, asleep on my couch. Mine. I quietly went about my nightly routine around her, turning off lights, locking the door, pouring myself a glass of water. I set one out for Parker on the coffee table next to the couch, just in case, and then tiptoed off to my own room, hoping Bacon wouldn’t try to sleep on her head or anything. After sending a text to Bernie and updating her on Parker’s whereabouts, I slipped into bed and lost myself in a haze of details. The flirting, the good conversation, the hand touching. I didn’t have a ton of noteworthy nights, but I hadn’t minded this one at all. I’d remember it forever.
When I awoke the next morning and headed to the living room to check on my guest, I found the white blanket folded neatly on the couch. The glass of water had been rinsed and left in the sink. On the counter, I found a note.
You are a saint for letting me stay last night. Best sleep in ages. Take care, Hannah. It was a fantastic night.—Parker
She’d signed her name in swirly script, and it occurred to me that she’d perfected the hell out of that signature over time. Ah, well. It had been a fun little adventure. I smiled to myself, folded the note, and decided to keep it as a memento. I held it to my chest for a moment first and savored the unexpected connection. I’d probably never see Parker Bristow again, but I hoped only good things for her.
Time to get back to the grind of the real world.
Chapter Four
The grind wound up a little easier that week. As I inputted the sales from the signing into the books, I was over the moon at the chunk of change we’d pulled in. It was a temporary shot in the arm, yes, but if we kept the momentum rolling, we could capitalize on this attention and turn things around permanently. I just had to keep the forward progress.
“I feel like we’ve had double the traffic today,” Luna said, coming around the counter. “Several of the faces looked familiar, too, from the Bristow event.”
It was the Thursday after the Saturday signing, and I still hadn’t told anyone about my evening with Parker. Somehow, I’d wanted to hold it close and keep it for myself for just a little while. “She’s been great for business. We’re giving her the display for every new release from now on.”
Luna shot a hand in the air in victory. “That’s huge. This is gonna make a big difference. Just wait.”
“Have you read the new one?” I asked, scratching my neck in nonchalance, totally selling it. No biggie. Just a girl wondering about a particular book in the store she owned.
