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“Iz?” Nic asked.
“Shut up,” Izzy growled at her friend. She swung her gaze to him and tried to sear his brain with her laser beam eyes. At least he was pretty sure that’s what she was doing. It could have been something darker. Maybe a form of torture. “Wow.” She spiked her fingers through her hair and stalked to the back of the store and through an archway. The sharp slam of a door made him wince.
Nic hopped off the counter. “Don’t make an enemy out of her, rockstar. She’ll eat you alive.”
“I’ll do well to remember that.” He looked around, now that Izzy wasn’t sucking up all his attention. “She owns this place, right?”
Nic slid a pile of books off the counter and into her arms. “We do. It’s a joint venture. Go ahead, look around. She’ll be back out in a few.”
“Should I still be here?”
“She probably hasn’t started sewing the voodoo doll in your likeness. You should be okay.”
And for the second time in what felt like forever, he laughed. Now that Izzy was out of the room he could focus again. Vaulted ceilings and a varied collection of bookcases lined every spare inch of wall space. The huge piano bolted to the wall was too much to resist. He wandered over, his eyes tripping over a biography of Mozart next to one of Bob Dylan. A shelf down, sheet music from Prince was side-by-side with Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez.
Eclectic was one word for it.
Organized chaos was another.
He snagged a few books from there and wandered over to the literature section. A Kerouac book with a worn spine landed on his pile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d read On the Road.
By the time he’d made it halfway around the room he had an armload of books about music, fiction, poetry, and wine.
“If you think that’s going to put you in my good graces, you’re quite mistaken.”
Logan’s spine shifted and straightened at the sound of her voice. Crisp, clipped and smoky. A librarian with Scarlett Johansson’s voice. The kind that slipped into dreams and lyrics.
He turned around. “I’m just supporting a local business.”
A slim, dark brow rose. “You don’t shop on Amazon? I find that hard to believe.”
Just because he did half his shopping on there didn’t matter right at that moment. Walking around her store was exactly what he’d needed. He’d b
een living with the same people, the same environment for far too long. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Izzy.”
“No?”
He gently placed his pile on one of the end tables that littered the room. “No.”
“You listened out of context.”
“Oh, I’m fairly sure the context was spot on.” He folded his arms. “I’m not breaking your bal—” He cleared his throat. Being on a bus full of men for the last twenty plus months had dissolved whatever little manners he had lately. “Look, I just want to play something different. I’m happy to do the big show for the last night like I always do. I just need this too.”
Her striking eyes softened and her fisted hands relaxed.
Well, shit. He hadn’t meant to say that much. Now she was going to think he was some headcase.
He was, but he didn’t need to advertise it for fuck’s sake.
Five
Isabella sighed. He had to be genuine. This, she did not need. Spoiled rockstar she could handle, but the flash of longing that had swirled into his clear, green eyes had slipped through her anger shattering it like spun sugar.
“Mr. King—”
“Logan.”
Her heart stuttered and the earlier sweat of the day left behind a chill thanks to her air conditioned store. Sure, it was. No other reason.
