Missy’s face scrunches as she scowls. “This isn’t over.” She stomps back toward her coffee shop and I realize that woman is never going to like me.
“She’s such a drama queen.” Kayla jumps down from sitting on my desk. “You got a name?” She holds her hand out.
“Shaw.” He takes hers in a quick shake.
“Oh, you’re Cora’s son.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Kayla. The best friend.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Shaw looks over the top of her head to me. “Is she going to be a problem?” He cocks his head to the front door Missy just walked out of.
She might be, but I keep that thought to myself. She’s my problem to deal with and I don’t want anyone else facing her wrath. She’s growing worse by the day but I’ll figure it out.
“She was born a problem.” Kayla rolls her eyes again. “I think she’s full of shit about the coffee machine, but I’m going to look into it.” She points one of her purple nails at me. “You don’t let it stress you out. Worse comes to worst, we take the coffee machine out of here.”
“Thanks.” I can always count on Kayla to make me feel better. For the short time we’ve known each other we’ve become close. “You kids have fun.” She smirks as she walks out the front door of the shop, leaving me alone with Shaw. I suddenly feel extra shy because I can’t believe he really came.
“I’m still open for another thirty minutes.” No one is here but it feels wrong to close up early.
“My mom sent me with another list.” He pulls a piece of paper out from his coat pocket, making me smile.
Searching for a bunch of books sounds like the start to a perfect first date.
Chapter Four
Shaw
“Have you read all of these?” I eye the shelves before I glance back to her.
She nods and looks away as her cheeks turn pink. “I’d say most of them. Some I’ve got on my list of what to read next so I will eventually. Besides, how could I tell people my favorites if I don’t know anything about them?”
“Which one is your favorite?”
She gasps and covers her mouth like I’ve spoken some kind of sacrilege. “I could never pick a favorite. That would be like picking my favorite child.”
“Do you have children?”
“Well, no, but it’s what I imagine it would be like.” She laughs when I raise an eyebrow at her and then grab a basket.
“Why don’t you help me fill this list and you can tell me what you like about them?” I hold the paper out to her, and when she reaches for the basket I hold on to it. “I can carry this, you lead the way.”
It’s also a shameless reason for me to look at her rounded ass as she moves in front of me. When she walks towards a row of books, my eyes move down her shoulders and to her nipped-in waist, then to the flare of her hips. The rest of her shape is hidden by the skirt, but I have the urge to run my hands under it and discover it for myself.
“Shaw, right?” she says, and I look up to see her smiling at me.
I clear my throat because I’m pretty sure she just caught me ogling her ass. “Yeah, that’s right. And you’re Barbie?”
“Yeah, well, Barbara actually, but people call me Barbie. I think maybe because it seems less old-fashioned.”
“Which do you prefer?” We come to a stop at the end of the bookshelf and she begins to run her finger down the spines of the ones in front of her.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that.” She smiles up at me as she retrieves the first book. “I think people just assume I don’t want to be a Barbara, but honestly it’s the reason I own this place.”
“How so?” I take the book from her and when I do, my fingers brush against hers. She’s so warm and soft and I have the urge to slide my hand up her arm. I don’t want the feeling of her skin against mine to stop.
All week I’ve been anxious and on edge thinking about her. I wanted to come back to the bookstore, but between the few jobs that I’d taken around town and things my mom wanted help with, I’ve been distracted enough to force myself to chill out.
I knew if I came back earlier I would come on too strong. It’s a problem I’ve had my whole life, just never with women. When I see something I want, I go a hundred miles an hour until I get it. Laying eyes on Barbie was way beyond anything I’d felt before and I knew going in full throttle would be a bad idea.
“I lost my parents when I was young and was raised by my mom’s sister who never wanted children. As soon as I was able to, I moved out on my own and was getting by for a couple of years. Then one day I got a call from an attorney saying that I had a grandmother I’d never met or even knew of that died and left everything to me. I found out that I was named after her, but only so my father wouldn’t be cut off.” She shrugs as we walk to another stack of books. “She left me a letter and from what it said, my father used me as a weapon, rationing out my visits in exchange for what she could give him. Then after they died and I went to my aunt, she refused to let me see her because of the lies her sister had told her.”