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Her pursed lips dropped and formed a smile. “He’s engaged.”
Shit.
“Oh.” I rubbed my jaw.
“To a man.”
“All right. That’s me put in my place, isn’t it?”
She pushed off the car with a grin and kissed my cheek. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Spinning on the balls of her feet, she headed for her car.
“Don’t ever call me cute again!” I called after her.
“Okay, Cutie!”
“Saylor!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN – SAYLOR
RULE NINETEEN: DON’T BE A DRAMA QUEEN. YOU’RE NOT ON A BRAVO SHOW.
“Why is this so hard?”
“Pinky, it’s a microwave.”
“But why are there so many?” I looked down the aisle. One side was filled with all different types of microwave ovens, and I’d never been so overwhelmed when shopping for appliances in my life. “Look. There’s, like, thirty.”
Dylan rubbed his hand down his face. “Just buy a microwave. Any microwave. Hell, you pick one, and I’ll even buy it.”
I looked forlornly at them all. “This is techy stuff. Why aren’t you doing this? This is your wheelhouse, not mine.”
“Who bought the old microwave?”
“My dad.” I met Dylan’s gaze. “It was a gift when I moved out.”
“Right.” He walked down the aisle, looking at the microwaves. “Here. This one. It’s a good brand, has all the settings, and has a three-year-warranty in case you break it again.”
“I did not break the microwave. It broke itself. Like my ankle did in third grade.” I joined him and looked at the one he picked. “I don’t like it.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t think he’s going to help us here.”
“I don’t blame him,” he murmured.
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to. What about this one?” He motioned to another one. “Looks nicer, has the same settings, but a shorter warranty.”
“Why is it so expensive?”
“You’re making this very difficult.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “In my defense, I did tell you to just buy one yourself.”
“Next time, I think I’ll take your advice.” He perused the shelves again. “This one.”
“It’s a contender,” I replied. “The best one so far.”
“Right. Then we’ll get this one.” He hauled the box off the shelf. “Let’s buy it before you change your mind.”
“We didn’t look at them all.”
Dylan nudged me with the box to make me move, and I groaned. I hated microwaves. I hated these stupid stores where there were too many options of the exact same thing.
Ironic, considering how I felt about bookstores, but I understood books.
I did not understand wattage or function or any of that.
Dylan paid, just like he’d promised, and carried it out to my car. I was about to get in when I saw the holy grail of stores.
A bookstore.
Dylan’s gaze followed mine. “Oh no.”
“Oh, come on. We came all this way. It’d be a waste not to go in.”
“You own a bookstore. Why do you need to look at books in another one?”
“They might have different books.”
He blinked at me. “They… might have different books.”
“Yeah. And there’s a café in there. I’ll buy you a cookie.”
“You’ll buy me a cookie.” He licked his lips. “A cookie.”
“You like cookies.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Pleeeeease.” I clasped my hands in front of me and bounced as I begged. “Please. I’ll cook dinner.”
He sighed. “Fine. Come on then.” He shut the door and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “But I’m going to complain the entire time.”
“And I will probably not hear a word of it, because books.” I locked my car and practically skipped to the huge two-story building. Stepping inside, I let out a happy breath and touched my hand to my chest.
It was like coming home.
Dylan looked at me as if I was insane, but smartly, didn’t say a word.
I rushed through the store, feeling like Belle in Beauty and the Beast. So many books! I wanted them all. I would need a bigger apartment to have them all, and I had no room on my shelves in my bedroom.
Would Dylan mind if I started taking over the living room?
“Do you even have any bookshelf space left?” He came up behind me when I was reading the back cover of a book from an author I wasn’t familiar with.
“Hm? Oh, no. Bookshelf space is for rookies.” I tucked the book against my chest and wandered down the aisle, scanning every cover for one that would catch my eye.
“So where are you putting these new books?”
“Any flat surface.”
“Like the massive pile you have on your nightstand that you insist you’re going to read?”
“Yes, exactly.” I flashed him a smile and grabbed another book, flipping it over to read the back.
He watched me. “I just don’t understand how you need more books when you have tons already.”
“I always need more books. What a ridiculous notion that a person should never need more books.” I put the book back on the shelf and continued my browsing.
“Pinky, there are fifteen books stacked on your nightstand. You’ve read six chapters of one of them.”
