I shook my head at his manipulation of the situation. “We’re going to need more bread,” I said before turning and walking towards the General Store.
Following at my side, Corbin nudged my arm with my elbow. “Buck up. This gives you a shot to show her that you’re not totally heartless.”
Shooting him a piercing glare, I jerked open the door and walked into the store without bothering to hold it open for him.
“Hey, Dottie,” I greeted the cashier behind the counter as I went to the bread aisle.
She gave a polite wave before continuing to organize the cigarettes displayed on the shelves behind her.
While I looked for my preferred brand of bread for grilled cheeses in particular, I heard Corbin chatting things up with Dottie.
“So, Dot,” he began in that sly tone that usually preceded mischief or passive-aggressive bullshit. I assumed it was the latter, given he was in earshot of me.
“Bale and I were just talking about the new girl. Harlow? Between the two of us, who do you think she would go for?”
Suspicion confirmed—passive aggression. Stirring the shit pot.
There was a long silence, and I despised the fact that I found myself hanging onto each second that ticked by in anticipation of whatever response was given.
“…Neither. I could see her with Malcolm.”
I barked out a laugh so loud it echoed throughout the whole store.
Snatching the loaf of bread I came here for, I strode over to the counter and tossed it down before her.
“FuckingMalcolm Dennison? What a damn joke. Malcolm wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like Harlow if he had a room full of blueprints.”
Corbin stood there grinning like this was the most entertainment that he had all century.
“I don’t know, Bale. Maybe he’d find her in Aisle Five.”
Over my dead body.
Hastily, I dug out the cash for the bread and slapped it down on the countertop.
“Keep the change,” I bit out before turning and walking away.
Halfway to the door, Corbin called out, “Forget something?”
I looked behind me, and he stood by the register holding up the bag of bread.
Stomping over to him, I pulled the loaf out of his hand hard enough to leave him with a small piece of the flimsy plastic still in his grasp.
On my way back to the door, I yelled out, “And wipe that godsdamned look off your face!”
Shoving open the door, I ignored the chuckling behind me.
I hoped Harlow liked her grilled cheese with a side of scorching resentment if she ever looked twice at fucking Malcolm.
Chapter
Sixteen
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
I knew that smell. It was the scent of aged parchment. Crisp pages tucked between leather or cloth, bound by thread and glue. Even the ink had its own distinct aroma, something intangible that made words come alive and ideas manifest within your soul.
