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“That’s right.”
“Are you staying at that bedraggled excuse for a hotel?” Her voice takes on a sharp edge.
I gulp, then shake my head. “I’ve rented an apartment in town.”
The old woman lets out a grunt that might be approval, and I remember that she and Dorothy, who owns the hotel with her twin, have had a long-standing feud. Apparently not staying at the hotel means I’m allowed to buy books here.
I’m saved from this minefield of a conversation by clapping coming from the depths of the bookstore. Rudy’s done with story time. I watch with a touch of amusement as he’s mobbed by children and mothers alike, then stand to the side as the mob moves to buy every single copy of the book Rudy just read.
Agnes rings them up one by one, looking none too happy even if she does give her grandson a satisfied nod. Rudy meets my gaze from the far end of the narrow, long bookstore and gives me a look that I think means, Wait for me. I’m almost done. I watch him skillfully direct a particularly handsy mother toward the cashier’s counter, where he slides behind it to give himself some space.
“Well, you have my number,” the woman says, completely unbothered by Agnes’s derisive snort. “Don’t be a stranger.” She turns to the little girl who was so captivated by Rudy’s story and takes her hand before leaving the bookstore.
Rudy meets my eyes, and I think I see a little bit of embarrassment flushing over his cheeks.
“That was quite the performance,” I say.
A rueful smile curls his lips, and my knees do that wobbly thing again. He didn’t grin like that when that handsy mother begged him to call her, my brain helpfully points out.
“Children’s books are popular,” he answers noncommittally. “I do a few readings a month. Everyone loves a fairy tale, especially little kids.”
I snort. “I don’t.”
“I like her more and more every minute,” Agnes says, scowling at her next customer, who looks suitably terrified.
Rudy ignores his grandmother and arches a brow at me. “No?”
“Too…unrealistic,” I answer. “Not every damsel in distress gets saved by a knight in shining armor.”
Agnes agrees with one of her expressive grunts. “Hmph. Maybe you have a brain in that head of yours, after all.”
“I… Thank you?” I answer, frowning.
Rudy covers his laugh with a cough.
“Fairy tales are for children,” Agnes says as the last customer leaves the shop. “But story time sales cover most of our bills. Silly mothers think I don’t see them drooling over my grandson, but their money spends just like everyone else’s.”
Rudy gives me a wry grin over his grandmother’s head. Before I can ask him about the new Lee Child thriller—or maybe talk to him without his slightly terrifying grandmother hovering between us—Agnes pulls out a box of lightbulbs and thrusts it at Rudy’s chest. “Help me with that.”
We both look where Agnes points to see a dark bulb in the ceiling at the back of the store. Rudy gives me one more apologetic glance, then moves to get a stepladder.
I pretend to browse the books while mostly staring at Rudy. Somehow, over the next few minutes, I find myself drifting to the back of the store where Rudy and his grandmother are trying to fix the light. When he’s at the top of the stepladder, he reaches up to unscrew the bulb and his shirt rides up the tiniest bit. He has a trail of burnished golden hair running from his navel to his belt buckle. It’s darker than the hair on his head—a fact that I notice for no significant reason whatsoever.
“It’s the wrong wattage, Grandma.” Rudy’s voice is patient, and my eyes snap up from his stomach. His face is calm as he meets his grandmother’s eyes. In profile, Rudy looks almost aristocratic. Strong jaw, straight nose, barely tamed hair come together to give him a handsome, effortless appearance.
I don’t blame those mothers. Not one bit. Who knows? In a couple of years, I might be one of them. I turn to the stack of books and realize I’m looking at biographies. I grab one at random and pretend to read.
“Those are the same bulbs I’ve bought for thirty years,” Agnes grumbles. As Rudy starts coming down from the stepladder, she turns her ire to me. “What do you want, anyway? Why are you still here?”
I jump and nearly drop the biography. “Um…I want a book?” I answer, eyes flicking to meet Rudy’s.
His lips curl into a smile, and he gives me a small, self-deprecating roll of the eyes. “Grandma, I held one of the new Lee Child books for Lily. She’s been waiting for me to help her for fifteen minutes, so I’d better go ahead and do that. I’ll buy the right bulbs this afternoon and put it in before you open tomorrow.”
“I told you not to hold books for people. Especially not new releases. Lee Child is a big seller around here.”
“We have a hundred of them, Grandma.” Rudy makes it to the bottom of the ladder and wipes his hands on his pants, jerking his head to the front of the bookstore for me to follow.
I’m not scared of Agnes, I swear. She’s four foot nine, has to be nearly ninety years old, and I could definitely take her in a fight. Well, I’m fairly sure I could take her in a fight. Probably.
