“Don’t forget,” Solange says, tapping a long nail…claw?...on her armrest, “not all of us are human, with human sensibilities. Some of us appreciate a little blood and gore.”
“That’s an interesting point,” Micah acknowledges. “Choosing books that appeal to all ages, genders, and species must be challenging.” He looks to me for confirmation.
“Well, I intend to choose a variety of genres as we go, so if one book isn’t your cup of tea, maybe the next one will be. I encourage you all to keep attending, and if anyone has a recommendation, please let me know,” I say.
They murmur among themselves, no doubt considering what to recommend, and I catch Spenser’s eye. He’s still leaning unobtrusively in the corner, watching everything. He smiles and gives me a thumbs up, a tiny bit of encouragement that sends a rush of happiness through me.
Once everyone has said their piece and we wrap things up, Spenser approaches and hands everyone a coupon for 15% off their next purchase, as a thank you for attending.
And then he hugs me in congratulations, whispersgood jobin my ear, and ohmygod, I can’t catch my breath.
JULIET
Maggie’s the crafty one in our family, so it’s no surprise I turned to her for help before entering the hellscape that is papier-mâché. She’s cheerful and focused, whistling as she dunks paper strips into glue. I, on the other hand, want to set everything on fire. My fingertips feel weird and prickly, and I was bored with this an hour ago.
“Remind me why I’m doing this,” I grumble.
“To make a surprise display for the bookstore. For Spenser. Because you lurve him,” Maggie replies.
“Not this again.” I sigh. “I do notlurvehim. I just want to spruce up the front display. But there has to be an easier way to do it.” To welcome spring, we’re making a bunch of flowers and butterflies. As well as a few moths as a nod to the store’s owner. I intend to hang them in the front window and fill it with books on gardening and other springtime subjects.
I go to dip another strip, only to find my glue bowl empty. I pick up my bottle to refill it, but everything is sticking to itself. How do peopledothis?
“Okay, fine. You’re doing something nice, which is really sweet. But if you can’t admit it to yourself, at least admit it to me: you have a thing for Spenser. A crush, an attraction, an infatuation, a passing fancy…something.”
I throw down my bottle of glue in disgust and glare at it. “All right! You win. Yes, I have feelings for him. He’s really interesting and attractive. He glows in the dark. He loves books. And have you seen his biceps? Who wouldn’t get a tiny little crush? But that’s all it is. It’s not like I’m going to date my boss.”
Maggie sets aside her supplies and finally gets serious. “That’s totally fair. If it’s really bothering you, I’ll stop teasing. But just so you know, if you did want to date him, you’d have my full support. Actually, you’d probably have the whole town’s support. Spenser is well liked and people would be happy to see him happy.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. It would be too awkward. But…what do you know about his dating history?”
Maggie grins slyly, but doesn’t tease me further. “Nothing, because there’s nothing to know. As far as I’m aware, he hasn’t been on a date since I moved to Harmony Glen. And I’ve never heard anyone mention a past ex or anything.”
I frown. “Well, he has to have dated at some point, right?”
“I don’t know,” she says, picking up her glue again. “I would think so? But I suppose it’s possible he’s never dated or that he’s like, aromantic or something.”
My frown deepens. I do not get the vibe that Spenser is aromantic. There’s no way our chemistry is one sided, and I’m positive we’ve had…moments. He’s solitary, sure, but I can’t believe that he’sneverdated anyone. I need to investigate this. I should add it to my list of things I want to learn about Spenser.
“Huh, well, it’s weird that he doesn’t date. But maybe that simplifies my whole situation,” I tell her. Not that I mean it. Ivery much would like to go on a date with him, even though it’s a bad idea because of the employment thing.
Maggie dunks more paper, getting along with her glue just fine. “What’s the latest on your parents?” she asks.
“Nothing new with Mom, fortunately. As far as I know, she’s not eating laundry pods in lieu of getting vaccinated or anything. I got a postcard from Dad last week that came from Estonia, but he mentioned something about Myanmar in it, so I have no idea where he is at the moment. You’d think he could text, or at the very least, email me, but you know how he is.”
“Sure. Uncle Clive believes in the power of pen and paper, the importance of travel, the necessity of knowledge, and the joys of good coffee.”
I smile. “That’s Dad to a T. Your parents doing okay?”
“Oh, sure. They love living in the city.”
“You know, I think I get that,” I say. “Because I think I love living here. I doubted that small-town life would be for me, but I’m reconsidering that.”
“Oh, I totally understand,” Maggie says. “I knew I wanted to live in Harmony Glen, but I think when I moved back, I didn’t realize the difference between living somewhere and making a life somewhere. There’s a very important distinction, you know? Buying a house, being with Gabe, establishing a group of friends…this is where I’m meant to be.”
Emotion wells up in me, though I can’t explain why. “Yeah. It is. And maybe me too.” I give a watery chuckle. “Assuming I ever finish these damn decorations.”
She dunks another strip of paper in glue and places it on the mold. “Nah, we got this.”
