“Spooky.”
“You’re wigging me out.” She poked my arm.
The place had two built-in shelves on each wall while three shelves divided the rest of the floor space in between, stretching from the front to the rear. My sneakers squeaked on the gleaming hardwood floors as I stepped forward. The sconces that decorated the walls reflected the gothic theme of the sign outside, spaced evenly between shelves. A lemony wax smell permeated the air.
“I’m sorry for the frigid conditions. I’m still struggling with the air conditioner controls.”
I jumped as Mr. Glasses, partially hidden behind the book pyramid, poked his head out. He had shaggy hair the same color as the hardwood floors. I couldn’t quite see his eyes from behind the grayish tint of his glasses.
“Did I startle you? By the looks of it, I did, didn’t I?” He spread both hands on the counter.
How did he get there without us noticing? Was he there the whole time? My first instinct was to bolt, but the way he asked a question then answered it by asking another question made me smile, lifting some of my initial unease. Just the jitters. Maybe.
Penny skipped to the counter. “Mr. Ormand…I hope you remember me.” She reached out and they shook hands. “Penny Collins. I was in here the other day telling you about my friend.”
“This must be Selena.” Ormand smiled. “Marcell Ormand, I’m pleased to meet you.”
I took his offered hand in a light grip. His touch was gentle, albeit clammy. Not surprising considering the arctic freeze. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I hear from Miss Collins here that you might be in need of a job.”
Penny answered before I could inhale. “Yup, she really does.”
“If it’s still available, sir.” I elbowed my overenthusiastic friend.
“Please, call me Ormand.” His smile showed a set of uneven front teeth.
“I think my job here is done.” Penny spun with a flourish to face me. “I’ll text you tonight.” She winked and sashayed out of the store.
I stared after my retreating friend. “I’m sorry about that, Ormand.”
“Miss Collins is always like that, isn’t she?”
“Pretty much.” I shrugged. An uncertain pause then, “Uh…about the job…do I need a resume?”
“Not at all. I just need someone to mind the counter in the afternoons, help with inventory, dust the shelves, and arrange the books. You think you’re up to it?”
The job seemed easy enough. We agreed on my wage and hours and decided that I could start the next day. Paranoia wouldn’t pay for college. Ormand seemed nice enough despite the warning bells.
“Is that all I can do for you? Are you sure you aren’t interested in a book? Employees get a twenty percent discount.”
A tempting offer. “Do you have books on dreams?”
“Dream interpretation, I see. Fascinating. I have some in the Divination section. Feel free to look around.” He pointed at the third row of shelves to the left.
With time to spare before Grams’s shift ended, I followed his directions and made my way between the shelves. Rounding a corner, I spotted a lone figure sitting on a cushioned seat by the wall, reading with shoulders squared.
Crap. Dillan.
Everything in me screamed, “Turn and run!” But if I left, I might as well stamp CHICKEN across my forehead. If I stayed, I had no idea what would happen.
He wore a dark, long-sleeved shirt and jeans. I bit my lip, frowning at him. Memories of the ride home from Miller’s and what happened afterward had my face roasting despite the cold the store. My body still remembered what slamming against his chest felt like. And how did he lift me out of the way? I had some weight on me. He didn’t have bulging muscles the way Bowen did, but hell, Dillan was strong. And those zingers his touch caused? Might not be static. At least, I thought so. Maybe I should have agreed to Penny researching it.
Dillan balanced a book in his hands with his elbows on the chair’s armrests, seeming not to notice my arrival. Just as I started to retreat, my phone dinged. Crap! I’d forgotten I’d removed it from vibrate at the diner. I fished it out.
Kyle: How’s the job-hunting going?
The book snapped closed. I flinched, almost dropping my phone. Ignoring Kyle’s text, I met Dillan’s gaze head-on.
“You stalking me?” he asked, his voice full of his usual annoyance.
“Well good afternoon to you, too.” My shoulders slumped when he snorted. His stare was like bullets straight to my chest. “I’m just looking for a book.”
“Oh, so you mean this isn’t the supermarket?” He glanced around with mock wonder. “That explains the lack of canned goods and the abundance of paperbacks.”
I pretended to laugh. Stupid jerk. He repaid my efforts to keep cool with an obnoxious, raised eyebrow. I paid no attention to the urge to grab tweezers and pluck until said eyebrow was completely gone.
“And you’re laughing because?”
“Oh my gawd! You mean that wasn’t a joke? That was you being a jerk?” I crossed my arms and cocked a hip. “Sorry, I didn’t catch it sooner.”
He smiled at me for the first time since we’d met. I didn’t count the magical laugh after asking him about dating Taylor Swift. Loser move, by the way. I panicked, so sue me.
Just when I had him pegged, he did something completely opposite. Gah! And they said girls were complicated. I squirmed at the warmth of his smile. Why was he smiling?
“I like it when you bite back,” he said.
A scowl pulled my eyebrows together. “That’s just rude. You don’t know me.”
“I don’t think I should get to know you.”
The ice in his tone took me by surprise again. A complete one-eighty from his earlier smile. “Excuse me?”
“You’re trouble, and I don’t do trouble.” He opened the book again and continued reading like I’d been dismissed. Well, his highness had another thing coming.
“Hey!” I snapped. “We’re not finished here.”
Like a lion eyeing its prey, he glanced up at me. My heart somersaulted.
“Well? I’m waiting with bated breath.” He managed to sound bored and sexy at the same time.
“W-what…uh…” I tried to gather thoughts that slipped out of my head like paper falling from a binder. I blinked. “Why do you think I’m trouble?”
He suppressed a laugh by bowing his head. As if that helped hide his shaking shoulders.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re a people pleaser, aren’t you? You’re the type that can’t stand someone not liking you and showing it.” Raising his head, he laughed openly now.
“That’s just…” I wanted to take a book from the shelf beside me and throw it at him. “I don’t even have a word—”
“Then I suggest you read a little more so you can find the word you’re looking for.” He hid his chuckle behind a fist.
Anger and defeat tasted bitter in my mouth. I wished I could stop the heat creeping up from my neck to my face. Before I could blow a gasket and ruin books I couldn’t afford by throwing them at someone with a concrete head, I turned on my heel and walked stiffly out of the bookstore.
With my phone still in my hand, I quickly replied to Kyle.
Me: Dillan, 1. Me, 0.
Kyle: Huh?
Me: TKO.
Kyle: Lost me.
Me: 411 L8r.
Chapter Nine
Dillan
Hunter Inside Out
After an awkward dinner where his uncle tried and failed to engage him in a conversation, Dillan stretched out on the living room’s white couch. ESPN highlights lit up the huge flat-screen in front of him. Out on the road, he had no time for TV; although, he did get score alerts on his phone. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on which team won what. His mind kept wondering back to his sparring match with Selena at the bookstore. With what happened at her house—his almost slipup about his identity—he’d vowed to leave her alone. They only shared two subjects together, the first two periods in the morning. It didn’t seem that hard to avoid her for the rest of the day.