I went over to the cart and picked up some books. “Aren’t you going to tell me some dumb-blond jokes or something?”
He glanced over at me with a smile. “Naw, I figure you’ve heard them all before.”
That was more like the Logan I knew.
“I suppose you aced your test,” I said.
“If I didn’t, I’m smart enough not to have told everyone about it.”
I slipped another book underneath my arm. “I didn’t tell everyone. I just told Cassidy Woodruff. I didn’t think she was the vindictive type.” I paused for a moment, then added, “You notice I didn’t tell you.”
He leaned over the book cart toward me and smiled again. “Was that an insult?”
“No. It was a veiled suggestion. It’s not my fault you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
I thought he’d fight this point, but instead, he straightened up and tapped a book absentmindedly against the cart. “Cassidy Woodruff. Why would she put flyers about you on people’s windshields?”
“She’s campaigning for Amy.”
“She’s not the type to put nasty flyers on people’s windshields.”
“Your judgment of women fails you again.”
He kept tapping his book, as though he hadn’t heard me. “Cassidy wouldn’t have done it. She might have accidentally let the information slip to someone who could have done it, but she wouldn’t have done it on purpose.”
Typical Logan. He knew absolutely nothing about the situation, and yet he stood there defending Cassidy anyway.
I picked up a few more books. “I’ll let you know my opinion of Cassidy after our bet is over.”
“You really think she was involved? Come on, Samantha, have you ever heard Cassidy even say a mean thing? I bet she doesn’t have an enemy in the whole school.”
I didn’t say anything.
“She always helps people with their homework and stuff.”
I didn’t know whether he was trying to goad me into an insult or whether he *was just smitten with Cassidy. I smiled graciously at him. “Go ahead and ask her out. You’d make a lovely couple.”
“Naw, I think she’s pretty tight with Josh Benson.” Logan picked up the last of his books. “I’ll hold out for Veronica. After all, you’ll never make it the next nine days without insulting someone.”
I could have set him straight about Cassidy and Josh. He was bound to find out eventually that they’d broken up, and perhaps he’d back off this whole trying-to-get-me-to-insult-somebody thing if he knew Cassidy was available.
But I didn’t tell him. Somehow I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see his face light up at the prospect of a date with her. I didn’t want to endure Cassidy updates every time Logan and I were stuck working together. I refused to give him one more way to annoy me.
Instead, I said, “Not only will you have to take me to the Hilltop restaurant, but I’m going to make you hold the doors open for me and push in my chair.”
He laughed and walked away. Even that was annoying.
For the next couple of hours, Logan and I didn’t talk to each other. If I wasn’t helping customers, then he was. When things finally slowed down, I walked over to the candy counter to see what I could buy that would substitute for real food.
While I decided between a Milky Way and Corn Nuts, Doug walked in. I picked up the Milky Way and hoped he’d just pass by me, but he came and stood beside me. When I turned to go to the cash register, I nearly bumped into him.
He looked at the candy bar in my hand. “Hey, Samantha, you know chocolate is an aphrodisiac, don’t you?”
“That must be why I love this job.”
Instead of just wandering off somewhere, Doug stood beside me as I paid for my Milky Way. “Yeah, I bet it gets real boring in here, but hey, you look cute in that vest.”
“Uh . . . thanks.” I took the receipt and shoved it and the candy bar into my vest pocket. What I wanted to do was rip the wrapper off the Milky Way and gobble it down in two bites. But it seemed rude to do that with Doug standing there watching me.
I walked back toward the books. Doug walked beside me.
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” I asked, remembering I should treat him like a customer.
“No, I just came in to browse.” He took a quick survey of the store. “Hey, when do you get in the swimsuit edition of Hot Babes magazine?”
I looked at his face to see whether he was serious, but I couldn’t tell. He wore a silly grin, which could have meant anything.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t pay a lot of attention to Hot Babes magazine.”
His grin got bigger. “Well, you work here. Aren’t you supposed to know that kind of stuff?”
I forced a smile and tried to sound patient. “You’re one of those guys who decorates his room using posters of scantily clad women draped over sports cars, aren’t you?”
“Naw,” he said, “I’m not much into sports cars.”
As we walked, he picked up a James Bond novel from the shelf and flashed the cover at me. It featured a woman wearing shorts that would have been tight on Thumbelina. “Now, she’d look good on a sports car.”
I looked around for a customer, any customer who seemed like they might need help.
Unfortunately, everyone milling around the store seemed completely content. Logan must have noticed my frantic gaze though, because he strode up to us with a big smile.
“Hey, Doug,” Logan said happily. “What brings you into the literary world?”
“I was just passing by and thought I’d come in and say hi.”
“He was checking to see if we had the swimsuit edition of Hot Babes magazine yet,” I added.
Logan raised an eyebrow at Doug, but Doug just grinned. “Got to make sure I get mine before they’re sold out. Which reminds me, when do you get next year’s Hot Babes calendars in? I tried to get one last December, and they didn’t have any. And man, if you'd gotten a look at the pose Miss January was striking, you'd know why I wanted it.”
Logan said, “Doug . . . ” and I thought Logan was about to comment on Doug’s choice for marking the months, or at least on his cluelessness when it came to flirting with girls, but the sentence disappeared and Logan’s smile reappeared.
“You like to get things done early,” he said instead. “No procrastinating for you.”
Logan glanced at me. “Isn’t that a fine quality, Samantha?”
I matched Logan’s cheery tone. “Almost as good a quality as respect for women.”
Logan slapped a hand over Doug’s shoulder. “And people who have calendars are organized and punctual.”
“That is, if they ever look at the days part of the calendar,” I said.
Doug was either tired of, or didn’t understand, the direction the conversation had taken, so he broke in with the question, “How late do you work here?”
I didn’t know whether he was addressing Logan or me, but I was afraid it was me.
Since I didn’t want him to follow this question with any suggestions about getting together after work, I chose a vague answer, “The bookstore’s open until seven P.M.”
“But Mr. Donaldson doesn’t make us close on school nights,” Logan put in.
“Because he knows we have to go right home and do our homework,” I added.
Doug tilted his head at me. “Do you do a lot of homework?”
I felt myself blush. Was he questioning my intelligence? Was he making some reference to my now famous SAT score?
“I need to start doing more,” I said stiffly. “I’ll let you guys talk. I have work to do.”
I walked into the back room, sat down on one of the stools we used to reach the high shelves, and tore open my candy bar.
I would rather die than ever go out with Doug.
As I consumed mouthfuls of chocolate, I wondered if Doug knew about the bet between Logan and me. Maybe that’s why he’d spouted off about Hot Babes. Maybe he’d been trying to trick me into an insult.