Page 73 of Check You Out

She whirls. “What if they want to buy something? You don’t know how to handle the register.”

“Text me, and I’ll figure it out.”

“But there’s people?” she pleads, her gaze darting to them.

“Go,” I insist, a little more firmly this time. I shoo her off. “I’ve got them.”

She nods with wide eyes and disappears into the office. I watch her go before my attention redirects to the ladies, who are browsing the shelves and talking among themselves.

There’s a part of me that’s questioning why I’m volunteering to put myself in an uncomfortable situation. I not only have to talk to people, but I have to sell books to people. My stomach somersaults as I picture myself trying to put on a salesperson persona.

But Charlotte needs me. She’s depending on me.

“Let me know if I can help you with anything ladies,” I say cheerfully and offer a grin while internally churning bile. My phone vibrates multiple times in my pocket, and I check it to see a string of texts from Charlotte regarding the register. I repeat the instructions in my head several times.

Select New Sale. Ask name for rewards info. Scan the items. Select Payment method.

Seems simple enough.

I can do this.

After a few minutes, the ladies bring their books to the register. Charlotte reappears as I’m ringing the customers up. She watches me through the transaction but doesn’t interfere. Her cheeks are still red, and her eyes are still a little watery, but she doesn’t look like she’s been crying.

“Nice job,” she says when they leave, swinging their bags of books as the doors close behind them. She steps up to me, holding her elbows. “Thank you. For everything.”

I bring my hands up to her arms, letting my fingers glide along her skin. “Of course. How are you feeling now?”

Her mouth parts, and she sucks in air before letting it out in a raspy sigh. “Still nervous, but better.” She presses her lips in a thin line. “Did you mean what you said? That I have you, and then we can handle things together?”

I nod. “If that’s ok. I’ve got one more week of school, and you’ve got me full time the rest of the summer.” Chewing on my lower lip, I continue, “Regardless of what happens with the library, I want to be here this summer.”

Her eyes dart about my face for a minute as she studies me. Is she questioning whether she wants me here beyond the summer? Is she wondering if the feelings or emotions in my words are genuine?

This can’t be love yet.

The logical part of my brain is telling me it’s too soon for those powerful and overwhelming feelings. But I feel something in my gut yanking me toward Charlotte. I’m drawn to her passion and drive, and it’s invigorating being around her when she’s acting on those motivations, like with the library. It’s like she makes me want to be braver and not just go along with life and accept things as they come along.

Or maybe this is love?

Swallowing hard, I add with a lowered voice that I hope conveys some of my emotions, “I want to be here with you.”

“As my boyfriend?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “Or do you want to work here too? I was thinking about hiring someone for the summer.”

Something bold brews inside of me. “Does Sunflower Books have an HR policy against dating coworkers?”

“As the sole proprietor of this company,” Charlotte murmurs, “I am HR.”

A wicked grin spreads across my face. “So, I can be your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she whispers. My hand travels from her arm to the back of her neck, where my fingers play with the strands of hair. She takes a little gasping breath, and I notice her throat working. “But if you work for me, I’ll will pay you.”

“I accept payment in books and coffee.” I add quickly, “And kisses.”

“Oh really?” She inquires with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yes.” Channeling that courage from her, I claim her mouth with mine. She lets out a little gasp and leans into me, pressing those beautiful tits right into my chest. She tastes like black tea and vanilla from the London Fog I brought her, with a hint of salt from the tears that streamed down her face earlier. Warmth radiates throughout my body and my heart races. Blood pools right into my groin, and I bite back a groan.

If I was a braver man, I’d place her on the counter and step in between her thighs and let her know exactly what I’d prefer.