As it turned out, he was very proficient at both. I only had to show him one book entry in the software, and he was a pro in no time. And at sorting books and gifts, and organizing, categorizing. When he’d said he enjoyed doing stock inventory, he wasn’t joking.
We worked in a comfortable silence. Actually, it was more than comfortable. It was so damn easy. Enjoyable, and fun.
We got a lot done in such a short time, faster and more efficient than me and Ro working together. I guess because she and I stopped to chat more often, and not having the kittens here helped a lot.
I got so much more done when I wasn’t stopping to check on every squeak or noise.
But Deacon worked with a military precision, and I could have worked right through the night with him if he hadn’t stopped to stretch and yawn.
“Oh, look at the time,” I said, checking my phone. It was after ten. “You must be so tired. You’ve worked all day, then came to help me.”
“I like doing this,” he said.
“You’re very good at it. I got more done with you in three hours than I did with Ro in six hours.”
“I can help you tomorrow night if you’d like,” he said.
I looked around at what was left to do. “I think we’ll have the inventory done by then.”
He frowned. “Oh.” He wore his emotions for all to see, and I liked that.
“But I’ll still have the display to do, and the signage, and all the finishing touches,” I said. “If you wanted to help me with that instead. I know you said you liked inventory, so it’s fine if you’d rather not.”
“I would,” he said quickly. “I can be here at seven again.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” I said, and he beamed at me. “Your dad won’t mind missing another one of your shows with you?”
He shook his head. “No. He said this would be good for me. I don’t have many friends here, so I should help them when they need it.”
Friends.
Yep, there it was.
The word I wanted to hear. Until I’d heard it.
The stab of disappointment I felt was real.
“Friends are great,” I said, hoping he couldn’t see through my forced smile. “And helping friends is evenbetter. I don’t have many friends here either,” I said. “Given I’ve just moved here and all.”
He nodded again, looking around the store, looking at anywhere but at me. “I like books.”
“I love them.”
He laughed then, and it was such a beautiful sound. His face lit up, his blue eyes sparkled like topaz, his pink lips smiling wide. “I love them too.”
God, I could look at him smile like that forever.
“Tell me,” I said, “how did you find the book on Japanese death poems?”
His smile died and I immediately regretted asking. “Initially, in the college library. I spent a lot of time there, and I liked the cover. It was a fascinating insight into the acceptance of fate, so I searched for more.”
Oh, how I loved that.
“I spent a lot of time in the library at my university too,” I said. “It was quiet there, and I wasn’t very social.”
He shook his head. “Me either. I did have friends there, but...” He shrugged.
“I get it,” I said gently. “Sometimes making friends is easy. Sometimes keeping them is hard.”
