Jin wrinkles their nose. “You need to hit him with some Taylor.”
“Say what now?”
Jin chuckles. “You know. We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. I Forgot That You Existed. Send him a whole freaking Swiftie playlist.”
I laugh as I tuck my phone back in my pocket and return to the task at hand, refilling what I’ve come to think of as my “vibes” display near the register. So far, it’s proved popular withcustomers, to the point that even grumpy Agnes congratulated me on the idea when we crossed paths last week. Jin has taken to keeping a list of titles they recommend for it by the register, most of which I’ve incorporated; I’ve learned to trust their taste.
They perch atop the counter while I restock the display. Their thick black hair is cut in the micro bob with baby bangs that Michelle Forbes rocked inKalifornia, their arms are sleeved with koi and lotus tattoos, and multiple face piercings glint in the store’s twinkle lights.
“Sales from that display are going nuts,” they observe.
I shoot Jin a smile. “I’m so glad. I really struggled with the way things are organized, so this makes me feel the tiniest bit of redemption.”
“Well, keep it up and you’ll be in the running for employee of the month,” they tease. We both laugh. Spenser would never single anyone out like that, lest it make the other handful of employees feel bad.
“More like employee of the moth,” I joke back. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a bad pun.
Jin rolls their dark eyes and hops down. “Boo. That was terrible. You good here? I’m gonna take my lunch break.”
I wave them off. “Go, I’m all set.”
I settle myself behind the counter and Flicker jumps up, something in her mouth. She’s making an insistent noise around the object, sort of the meow version of “mmmph.” She approaches me and drops the item, which turns out to be a tea bag.
“What’s this?” I pick it up and inspect it. The bag is lavender, and the label on it says “Amour” in fancy script. I turn it over and look at the ingredients, which include rose hips, hibiscus, and lemon zest.
I set it back down and look at Flick, who nudges it back to me with her black nose.
“You want me to have it?”
She nudges it again. Odd.
“Okay,” I say, tucking it into my shirt pocket. “Thank you.”
She chirps and hops down, wandering off into the depths of the store, probably to nap in one of the reading chairs. Weird, but kinda sweet. Maybe she likes me.
Spenser appears a few moments later and I flag him down. “Hey, I have ideas for the first three titles for the book club,” I say.
“Hit me.”
He leans against the counter, his shirt sleeves straining against his biceps. Once again, I wonder how he got so built when all he does—as far as I know—is run a bookstore. Even today’s vest is straining against his chest.
I give myself a little shake to regain my focus. “Uh, I was thinking the new Bettanie Brisk novel to start. She’s popular, but not an automatic NYT bestseller, so I feel like she’s kind of a good middle-ground place to kick things off. For April, I was thinking we could do one of those popular mysteries set in England. You know the ones, they have flower puns for titles…” I snap my fingers, trying to think of an example, but Spenser beats me to it.
“Radley Howard,” he says. “Garden gnome author. I think the most recent one isPistil Whipped. Or maybeBud Behavior.”
“Right,” I say with a nod. “For the third one, I was thinking either this travel memoir that’s getting a lot of traction on social media or something beachy to kick off the summer season. But that might be better for a June book.”
“What’s the memoir?”
I pull out my phone to show him some of the posts I saved, but of course, Braeden’s message is still there. I swipe away as fast as I can, but I can tell from the frown on Spenser’s face that he saw it.
“Lame ex trying to get back together,” I say.
“You don’t owe me any explanation about your personal life.”
“I know, but it’s just…you should know I’m not planning to leave my job and get back with him or anything. I’m happy here in Harmony Glen.WithoutBraeden.”
A small smile breaks out across his lips. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to see you go.” We make eye contact for a beat too long before he clears his throat. “I mean, from the store. You’re doing good work here.”
