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Plus, I was dying to know what case the bumbling private investigator, Dexter Peabody, whose antics actually pulled a chuckle from me a few times, solved next.
“The Next Page!” burst from me in a shout, causing nearby birds to squawk and fly away and chipmunks to run for cover.
That was the name of the bookstore I had passed.
So damn fitting.
If they didn’t have the series in stock, maybe they could order them in and I could use reading a few chapters every night as a reward for getting my daily word count finished.
Now that sounded like a good plan.
I would just need to stick with it.
CHAPTER 2
Chase
The small cow bell hanging inside the door clanged as I opened it. The two-story building was older, but in excellent shape, with brown painted wood siding and a huge wood sign in the shape of an open book above the door with the name The Next Page carved into it.
The building reminded me of an old-time country store with a covered wooden porch out front with wrought iron benches and large cream-colored painted framed windows to bring in natural light.
How this bookstore survived in this small town, I had no idea. Even in towns with much larger populations, the big box bookstores, as well as online e-book sales, had put so many mom-and-pop bookstores out of business.
However, this one in the middle of nowhere somehow managed to survive.
As I stepped into the quiet-as-a-library interior, my nostrils flared and I inhaled the smell of books. The familiar scent was almost as soothing as breathing in the fresh mountain air up at the cabin.
I was surprised to find nobody manning the register to the right of the door. Theft probably wasn’t a big issue in this town and on the chance that someone did steal, it was probably easy to figure out who the culprit was. One benefit of laid-back, small town living.
Eagle’s Landing certainly had a different vibe from where I used to live.
After only a few days I knew I’d never go back to living in an area where the population was jammed together like sardines. Worse, the traffic on the Long Island Expressway tended to be a snarled mess. Here most traffic jams were caused by wildlife crossing the road.
It would also be hard to find such a quaint, quiet bookstore like this still in business. Stepping inside was unexpectedly comforting and, if I had to admit it, a little motivating.
Rows of shelves filled the store and more lined the perimeter. Every one of those shelves was packed solid with books neatly organized by genre and even broken down into subgenre with clear signage. With a quick glance, I thought they might even be alphabetized by the author’s last name under each category.
Before I could check closer, a large black and tan German Shepherd loped up to me from between the rows with his mouth hanging open, his tongue hanging out and a bushy tail up in the air wagging back and forth. The dog circled me once before using his muzzle to nudge my hand for attention.
“What’s your name?”
With his tongue now flopping out of the side of his mouth, the friendly, furry greeter turned his deep brown eyes up to me and whined his answer as I scratched his head.
Unfortunately, I didn’t speak canine.
“Timber!” A deep voice called from the back of the bookstore.
Timber the GSD ignored whoever was calling him and sat on my foot instead, then leaned into my leg while staring up at me in adoration since he was now being scratched behind the ears.
“Sorry. Normally, he doesn’t bother customers unless they have a treat and—”
Fuck whispered silently through my head as a whispered, but audible, “Fuck” came from the man appearing before me.
“Timber,” Mr. Nosy called again, patting his denim-covered thigh.
“He’s fine.”
“I’m more afraid of you taking a bite out of him than the other way around.”
Only about ten feet separated us as we stared at each other.
“Chase, right?”
Shit. I tipped my head in answer. “You shouldn’t have paid for my breakfast the other day.”
“It was nothing. One way to welcome you to the area.”
“Maybe I’m just passing through,” I lied.
“It doesn’t take long for people to pass through Eagle’s Landing. There’s not much to keep them here.”
“You live here.”
Rett shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t need much.”
Sucking on my teeth in an attempt to reduce the annoyance creeping up my spine, I glanced around the store to avoid Rett’s eye contact. “I assume you work here?”
“You could say that.”
Ah, Rett was now being ambiguous, the same as I had been with him at the diner when it came to answering questions. The man was trying to make a point, even as subtle as it was.
With a huge yawn, Timber finally unpinned my foot from the floor, wandered off in a lazy pace and disappeared back to wherever he had come from.
