Bookish Woes
“Not again,” Beth grumbled loud enough to be heard. She shelved the last book from her cart—an Agatha Christy novel—then tried swerving around the giant customer who was staring her down like an angry bull. Well, an angry bull with cute dimples and an adorable cowlick.
Aiden shoved his work boot in front of her cart, the faint whiff of sawdust wafting from his jeans and Carhart utility jacket. “I just don’t understand.”
“And I don’t understand why you don’t understand.”
“It’s Little Women. Little Women!”
Even though she didn’t have any customers inside her used bookstore at the moment, Beth motioned for Aiden to lower his voice. “It doesn’t matter how many times you yell the title, I don’t like the book. And I’m never going to like the book. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“But you’re a woman.” Aiden waved his hand from her honey-colored curls to the blue polka-dotted material skirting her knees, as if she needed visual proof. “And you’re little. You shouldn’t not like the book.”
She straightened as tall as her petite frame would allow. “Well, you’re a man and you’re . . .”
“Strapping? Burly? Muscular?”
“Spacious.” Beth pushed her cart next to the box of Nancy Drew books she needed to shelve once she cleared more space in the children’s section. “You shouldn’t not not like the book.”
“All these double negatives are getting confusing.”
“What’s confusing is how we were having a perfectly wonderful first date last Friday and you made it all weird over this one little issue.”
“One little issue? It’s—”
“If you say Little Women one more time, I will have security escort you off the premises.”
“Since when do you have security?”
“Since always.” She lifted her chin toward Moses, her twelve-year-old golden retriever napping on the braided rug next to the front window display. “Just like I’ve always had books of actual quality. Books like The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Okay, you want to talk about security needing to escort something off the premises? That book. You know how many hours of my life I’ll never get back trying to make sense of that story?”
“That’s because you never finished it.”
“Of course I never finished it. Who can finish a book like that?”
“Me, actually. Twice. Because that book is amazing.”
“I don’t understand your brain.”
“Which is why I didn’t agree to a second date. We’re clearly not compatible. You love Louisa May Alcott, which is very strange. And I love Alexandre Dumas, which I think we all agree is understandable and dare I say, admirable.”
“You don’t love Alexandre Dumas. Nobody loves Alexandre Dumas. People just love saying they love Alexandre Dumas because it implies they can understand complex things.”
“Better than implying we love boring things.”
Aiden grabbed his heart as if she had stabbed him. “The intricacies of family life and young girls coming to age in 19th century America is anything but boring. Besides that, you share a name with one of the characters.”
“Who dies.”
Now he massaged the area over his heart. “Such a brave girl. Such a brave brave girl.”
“You’re not going to start crying again, are you?”
“To be honest, Beth, I don’t know if I can continue being in a relationship with a woman who doesn’t have a soul.”
“Since when are we in a relationship?”
“Since I started coming into your bookstore every week to buy books. It’s called a business-consumer relationship.” He grabbed a book off the endcap next to him and waved it to make his point.
“Are you seriously buying another copy of Little Women?”
He cradled the book against his chest. “A man can’t have too many copies of the March family. Everybody knows that.”
“One copy of those sisters is too much for anyone. Everybody knows that.”
“That’s it.” Aiden spun and snapped his fingers at Moses. “Sic her, Moses. Sic her. Come on, boy. Don’t let her say things like that.”
Moses’s tail beat against the wooden floor with a short happy wag, before he rolled over and returned to his nap.
“See? Just the thought of Little Women puts Moses to sleep.” Beth led Aiden to the counter and began ringing up his purchase.
“That’s because he’s never seen any of the movies. But you have, right?” Aiden handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“Why would I when the book was so terrible?”
Aiden palmed the counter and dropped his head as if needing support to keep breathing. “Okay, that’s it. We’re watching the most recent film version of Little Women together this Friday. My place at seven. I’ll have popcorn. And tissues.”
“I don’t think so. Unless . . .” Beth handed him the extra change, then grabbed a free bookmark off the counter and slipped it into his book. “You agree to read a chapter of The Count of Monte Cristo every Saturday with me. My place at four. I’ll have coffee. No tissues needed.”
He held her gaze several seconds before taking his book. “You know it’s going to take a lot of Saturdays to finish that book, right?”
“Oh, it’s going to take a lotta lotta Saturdays.”
“Then I think it’s only fair we watch a movie of my choosing every Friday. Maybe even grab dinner too.”
Beth pressed her lips to the side. “I suppose that’s fair.”
He slowly backed away from the counter, still holding her gaze. “Sounds like we better clear our calendars for a while then.
“Sounds like we better.”
He gave her a firm nod, then spun for the door. His grin reflected off the glass panes just before he exited.
When the bell on the door stopped jingling and the bookstore returned to silence, Beth couldn’t hide her own smile any longer. “And that, my dear Moses, is how you do it when you want much more than just a second date with Aiden.”
THE END
