"Nah. I need you here."
He sighs and then nods. "Be careful, man. Real fucking careful."
"Plan to," I mutter, already stalking toward the door.
Chapter Three
Lilah
The universe is out to get me. I know this because nothing is going my way, not since Lincoln Hanover appeared in my shop to ruin my life two days ago.
First, he dropped his bomb. Then, an entire shipment of books went MIA. And then Sarah caught the flu, leaving us down a woman for Cassia Murphy's book reading tonight.
The store is packed to the rafters. I'm not frazzled. I'm whatever comes after that. Jazz and Olive are doing their best to help. Even Loralei jumped in to help, but we're seriously outnumbered.
Maybe adding a fundraising component to the reading was a bit of an overreach. Everyone has been swarming the counter all night to buy tickets for the massive raffle basket Cassia and her husband helped put together. The money is going to a women's shelter.
"We need more wine!" Jazz whisper-hisses, her eyes wide as she scurries around the side of the counter where Olive and I are doing our best to ring up customers and wrap up books before they mutiny over the wait. Loralei is working the café by herself. Thank God Cassia brought her husband with her because I have no one left to station at her table to help her.
"Check in the back," I mutter to Jazz. "Oliver's brother delivered more first thing this morning." Thankfully, I planned ahead and asked Lucy to send two more cases. We're going through bottles like it's nothing tonight!
"Excuse me." A woman in a miniskirt and heels higher than my blood pressure steps up to the counter, holding a special edition ofFourth Wingin her hands. Where she got it from, I don't know. I thought we sold out of them last week. "Is this really sixty dollars?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Cool," she whispers, staring at the book like it's the Holy Grail. "I want it." She thrusts it out toward me.
"You'll have to wait in line." I nod at the line of customers waiting to check out.
"Oh." She beams at me. "But I'm a regular."
"And we adore you for it," I say with a forced smile. "But so are a lot of them. Please wait in line, and I'll get you checked out just as soon as I can."
"Ugh. Fine." She rolls her eyes and then stomps away, muttering under her breath.
Awesome. I'll probably have a bad Google review tomorrow. Oh well. That's a tomorrow problem. Today, I need a stiff drink, a whole line of Oreos, and a long soak in the tub.
"We're out of tissue paper," Olive announces beside me.
I was wrong. I don't need a line of Oreos. I need the whole pack.
"Check the back."
"I already did."
"That'll be thirty-seven dollars and nineteen cents," I murmur to the sweet old lady in front of me before turning to Olive. "Can you take over here, and I'll go look?"
"You want me to run the register?" She eyes the screen like she's worried she'll break it.
"You'll do fine. All you have to do is scan the barcodes and follow the prompts." A toddler could operate the register, so I'm absolutely confident that Olive—with her advanced degree in biochemistry—can handle it.
"Okay," she says with a shrug. "But if I break something, it's your own fault, and I probably won't be very sorry."
I just shake my head and leave her to it, hurrying toward the back.
"Next time we do a reading, we're hiring extra help," Jazz swears, her arms loaded with bottles of wine.
"We hired Olive and Loralei to help out."
