A small bell tinkled above the door as we entered, completing the aesthetic of the place perfectly. It washeaven.
My version of it at any rate. Books were littered everywhere. Climbing high on shelves that nearly reached the ceiling. They went on for rows and rows, reaching all four corners of the room. From the outside, it looked small, but it must have been some optical illusion, because the place seemed to go on for days.
I turned around in his hold, feeling the swell of emotion nearly choke me as I went up on my tiptoes, threading a hand around the back of his neck and bringing his lips down to mine. He swallowed back a surprised inhale, then sunk into the kiss. His hands flexed on my hips, dragging me impossibly closer.
A throat cleared from behind us. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’
Still floating from the kiss, I peered over my shoulder at the elderly man who sat behind the counter, his grey hair fizzing around his head, a worn book held carefully in his hands.
‘We’re just gonna have a look around,’ George said, offering the man a polite smile and squeezing my fingers.
We wove through the bookshelves. He let me peruse to my heart's content, never standing too far away, and always somehow keeping some part of our bodies touching.
Second-hand bookstores like this one were often a treasure trove. First editions of romance books that no one looked at twice. As I sauntered down the aisles, picking up anything that caught my eye, George started asking me questions.
Questions about when I first started reading, and myfavourite types of romance. I answered them all happily. The weight that had rested on my chest from earlier slowly eased the longer we wound our way through this bookish haven.
‘Have you finished that book?’ I asked, shuffling the six or so books in my arms. George saw my struggle and took them out of my hands. Propping them against his chest. I opened my mouth to protest. He cut me a sharp look.
‘The stalker one?’
I nodded, turning down the last row.
‘I did.’
When he didn’t elaborate, I glanced over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. ‘And? Any thoughts?’
His grin was downright filthy. ‘Several. But I liked it. I mean, the guy still should be committed for some of the shit he did.’
‘He did it all for love.’ I placed a hand to my chest, sighing dramatically.
George was silent for a moment, before saying tentatively, ‘For someone who hates love, that’s all you seem to read about.’
I froze in the middle of picking up another book. My fingers clutched the paperback, digging into the cover. I cleared my throat, shrugging. ‘It’s fiction. People who read thrillers don’t love murder.’ I walked a little further, keeping my gaze purposefully on the plethora of books, and not on the feeling of George’s intense gaze.
I carried on sauntering through the aisles, adding more and more books to the pile in George’s arms. Whenever I tried to hold them, he’d pluck from my grip and carry it himself. Thankfully, the conversation reverted to easy banter.
After we had searched the entire store, some aisles more than twice, George asked, ‘You good?’ The pile of books in his arms grazed the bottom of his chin. I chewed my bottomlip, surveying the stack. ‘I might have gone overboard.’ He laughed lightly. ‘Ya think?’
I gave an indignant huff. ‘I got excited.’
‘I know, it’s cute,’ he said, words coated in affection. ‘I think there was a section you missed at the back, though.’ He jutted his head over my shoulder to the back of the store. ‘Go check it out while I carry these up.’
I looked over my shoulder with a frown. I’d combed the store pretty well, but I gave him a nod and went in search of the missing section.
Ten minutes later, when I found nothing I hadn’t previously looked at, I weaved my way through the stacks to the elderly man who was leaning back in his chair, book propped up on his lap.
He peered over his glasses at me. ‘Help you with anything, lass?’
My head spun in every direction, my stomach dipping. ‘Uh, yeah, have you seen a tall guy who looks like he should be chopping wood somewhere in the forest?’
The man chortled, placing a hand over his belly. ‘Ay, he’s waiting outside for you.’
Strange.But whatever, maybe he needed the fresh air. I scanned the desk, seeing nothing but the register and the rumpled mystery paperback the owner had been reading. ‘Did he leave a stack of books?’
Something twinkled in the man’s eyes. ‘No.’
What the hell was happening right now? I frowned, feeling like I was watching a silent film with French subtitles.
