Ingrid’s smile turns apologetic. “We don’t have a large sports section here. Our customer base is mostly women.”
I slide a glance at the hockey shelf again.
Ingrid opens her mouth, then closes it again. She doesn’t even look where I’m looking, but when her smile turns sheepish, it’s obvious she gets my point.
“My daughter is a huge hockey fan,” she says. “She plays, actually.”
“Girls can play rugby too.”
“I pway wugby!” Hallie announces. “I scwum!Grrrrrr.”
The only thing keeping this kid from being freaking adorable is the fact that she’s Silas’s kid.
Not her fault.
“Girls play soccer too. And lacrosse. And football…” Goldie’s grin is turning mischievous, and I’ve never been so glad to be over a rash in my life. Or so desperately in need of thinking about Silas Collins getting it on with my grandmother.
That’s what kept my dick in check all night at the wedding.
It’s only half working today.
Fuck.
“And baseball,” Goldie says. “Baseball is a great sport too. Don’t you have baseball players in here all the time?”
“They buy the romance novels,” Ingrid deadpans.
Except I’m not sure that’s deadpan.
That sounds like complete truth in her statement.
Goldie looks at me and shrugs. “Romance novels can’t hurt. You might learn a thing or two.”
Ingrid chokes on a laugh.
She must’ve heard the rumor we’re “dating.”
“Did you find books for the birthday girl?” Ingrid asks.
Goldie grabs a small stack of kid books that I hadn’t noticedher put on a nearby shelf. “Your children’s zombie picture book section is a little lacking too, but we prevailed.”
“Just can’t keep them in stock,” Ingrid says dryly, and then both women crack up. “Ready for me to ring you up?” she asks Goldie.
“Yes, please. The birthday girl and I have a date with a horse next.”
“Oh, a horse. That’s exciting. Know what else is exciting? Birthday girls get stickers when they come into my bookstore.”
I’ve trailed them to the counter, and I don’t know why. My whole goal was to talk to the owner about stocking rugby books if there weren’t any in the sports section. Got that done. Time to go.
Instead, I’m lingering like Goldie has a magnetic pull on me.
And it’s barely in the back of my brain that it would be weird if I walked away since Goldie and I are “dating.”
At the register up front, Ingrid pulls out a case of stickers and sets them on the counter for the birthday girl. “Would you like to pick one?”
Hallie climbs up onto a stool that’s already at the counter—Ingrid’s clearly a pro—and stares in wonder at the stickers like they’re cotton candy and birthday cake and a bounce house all rolled into one.
Or like they’re my dog.
