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He didn’t like how easily Tessa was able to see through him, and he shifted uncomfortably, “Help me get this display ready. We really should have had it set up before customers could show up.”
Tessa rolled her eyes, a slight smile still on her lips. “Okay, Small Town. Cool your jets. We’ll get it done,” she flipped through the book in her hands. “I might actually purchase this. Seems interesting.”
Daniel snorted, “I would have pegged you as a literary type, Big City. Save for theTwilightfixation.”
Her lips pulled into a pout, “Who says I’m not? People can contain multitudes, you know.”
“Okay, point taken. So, whatdoyou look for in a book?”
Tessa started setting up the table, checking the diagram for the placement of the books as she piled them on the table neatly. “Well, first and foremost, compelling characters. I want to be able to root for the characters. I want to be able to see myself in their struggles. Doesn’t matter if it’s realistic or fantasy—if I don’t really understand them and their motivations, I can’t get into the book.”
Daniel nodded, shifting the piles on the table until they were perfectly lined up. Everything had to be in just the right place. “That’s fair. And you find that in vampire novels?”
She shrugged, “Don’t make it sound so silly. And yes, sometimes. Just because a character is immortal doesn’t mean they can’t be relatable. Why? Are you more into the morose prose of the great American novel?”
“Why? Do I seem the morose type?”
That same grin. “But of course.”
“Well, you’ll be surprised to learn that I actually greatly enjoy fantasy.”
Tessa snorted as she placed the sign for the table at the back center. It was slightly crooked, and Daniel itched to straighten it. “Joe Abercrombie?”
“Ugh, no. Like you, I want characters I can root for, and that author does a stunning job of making all the characters terrible people. Give me some Brandon Sanderson. Flawed characters that still resonate with the reader.”
At that, Tessa laughed. And it wasn’t a soft, delicate laugh. It was uproarious, combined with a few snorts. “Okay, okay. I might have underestimated you, Small Town.”
Daniel found himself somewhat enjoying the conversation. Tessa was surprisingly easy to talk to despite their constant needling of each other. “What about music?”
Tessa hesitated as she straightened the sign, much to Daniel’s relief. She traced the sign, a faraway look in her eyes, “Okay, you have to promise not to laugh.”
Holding his hands up to his chest in mock offense, Daniel widened his eyes, “Me? I would never. I’m Mr. Grumps, after all. I have a reputation to uphold. No laughing here.”
“Okay, okay. No need to mock me. I mainly listen to… 60s top forty hits.”
That took Daniel by surprise. Tessa looked to be a few years younger than him, so having the musical taste of an old man seemed a bit dichotomous. His lips turned up into a smirk, “For real?”
“Hey! Don’t knock it. The songs are very upbeat. Great for getting your day started. What do you listen to, anyway, Mr. Musical Expert.”
“I’m losing track of these nicknames, Tessa,” he thought on it for a moment. “I would probably say the classics—Pink Floyd, The Who, The Rolling Stones.”
“How very pedestrian,” Tessa quipped.
“I don’t know. When I listen to it, I feel…” He couldn’t quite find the words.
“Like you’re the main character? The Who has very ‘main character’ energy.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, “I’m not sure I have ever heard it described that way. But I guess so.”
Tessa shook her head, blonde curls bouncing, catching the light of the midafternoon sun streaming in through the windows. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Glad I passed the test. But really? Top 40 60s hits? What are you, a boomer dad who wears socks with sandals?”
“You wound me.”
Their chatter continued like that as they finished up the display table—bickering with no bite. A little bit of teasing and a lot of connecting. To his surprise, Daniel realized that he had enjoyed the conversation. They might be diametrically opposed when it came to their tastes—vampire romance novels would never be his thing—but there was something about the conversation that left him feeling lighter.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Tessa seemed to be falling into a comfortable pace at the store, much to his surprise. He had expected her to turn up her nose at the quaint bookstore, hailing from Boston. But she connected well with the customers and always found just the right book for them.
