He opens the book to the first page. He’s chosen not a literary classic as I thought he would, but rather a Dean Koontz book.
One of my favorites… Intensity.
I just stare as he reads, carefully flipping the pages. After about the fourth page flip, his eyes drift up and over the edge of the book to lock on me.
Blushing deeply, I try to duck my head to focus on my computer screen, but I’m forced to acknowledge him when he asks, “Is it okay if I sit here and read for a bit?”
“Of course,” I reply quickly.
“I was just wondering… since you were staring so hard, I thought I might be doing something wrong.”
“Nope,” I assure him, with a shake of my head so hard, my glasses almost dislodge from my face. “That’s the whole point of the little reading corner. Make sure the book is to your liking before you buy it.”
Aaron smirks as his eyes drift back down.
God, why does he have to look so hot sitting there, reading Dean Koontz and totally ignoring me? And to top it all off, I know he’s behaving this way so he seems cool and mysterious because he thinks it will pique my interest even more.
That may be true, but I refuse to let him know it.
Aaron sits there for almost twenty minutes, slowly reading—probably savoring and hopefully enjoying—the creepiness of Koontz.
Finally, he pushes out of the chair, then saunters over to the checkout counter. I push my laptop aside, letting my gaze settle on the book in his hand. “So what did you think?”
“It’s good,” he replies, setting it on the counter. “I’ll take it.”
“Awesome,” I reply brightly, happy to make a sale to compensate for the way he’s unsettled me since walking in my store. “Is this your first Koontz?”
“Yup,” he replies. “Actually, my first book in a long time. Not sure how I fell so far out of the habit, but let’s just say it’s been years since I’ve picked a book up.”
“I imagine your dad wouldn’t approve of this type of literature given he taught the classics,” I say.
The minute the words are out, I know they’re wrong by the way Aaron’s face clouds over with something I might label as bitterness. But it smooths away just as quickly, making me wonder if I really even saw it.
Aaron doesn’t respond to my statement about his dad, but rather catches me totally off guard. “Any interest in grabbing dinner with me tonight?”
“Sorry,” I reply as I scan the bar code on the back of the book. “I have plans already.”
“Date?” he asks.
“Is that really any of your business?” I reply, feeling my smug expression. Just a bit of payback for him making me feel all out of sorts this afternoon.
Aaron shrugs. “Not really, but I’d just be curious as to my competition.”
“I’m not a prize,” I retort primly, mainly to hide the fact he is totally charming me with the passive flattery.
Bending slightly, Aaron puts a forearm on the counter and leans in toward me. “You know, given the brush-offs you keep giving me, I’m going to agree… you’re no prize.”
I blink like an owl, trying to figure out if he’s teasing or lobbing a well-designed insult my way. His tone is light, his eyes sparkling with challenge. He doesn’t seem mean-spirited, but I know better than anyone that people never show their true faces up front. That usually comes later, after some level of trust is built.
“I must be a glutton for punishment,” he intones, straightening his body. “Because I’m bound and determined to get you to like me, Clarke Webber.”
Snorting, I place the book in a bag, then nab the credit card he holds out. I decide to throw him a bone. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t actually dislike you.”
“No, you just don’t trust me,” he replies firmly and now I know he’s more than just taking some haphazard stabs at flirting with me. He’s incredibly observant and intuitive.
“Sorry,” I reply in a tone that doesn’t sound at all apologetic. I give a careless shrug as I hand him back the credit card, pushing the receipt he needs to sign across the counter with a pen. “Guess that’s a flaw of mine.”
Aaron completes the transaction, takes the bag containing his book, and steps back from the counter. “Nothing wrong with being cautious, Clarke. Maybe one day you’ll tell me why you take it to the extreme.”
“Maybe,” I murmur thoughtfully.
He holds up his hand in farewell, turning for the door. “See you tomorrow?”
A lazy smile starts to tug at my lips, then I jerk at the realization of what he just said. “Tomorrow?” I call after him.
He glances over his shoulder, giving me a megawatt smile that causes my stomach to flutter. “I’ll be back for another book.”