I glanced at my clock out of habit. “I haven’t today. I should’ve had a trial this week but it finished early, so I have a clear diary.’
“Will you come and see my first bookstore? Then I can prove that appearances are deceptive and you can buy your niece or nephew a gift.”
There was no way I could say no, even if I wanted to. His face was alight with enthusiasm and hope; telling him no would’ve been like kicking a puppy and I was kind to animals. “Yes. It’ll give me chance to see what your business partner is happy to leave—that’s if you want me to act for you on this?”
Broad shoulders relaxed and I saw tendons release their tension. “Please. What do you need from me?”
“Your accounts to start; I’ll have a forensic accountant look through them. And you’ll need to sign our contract and agree on fees. If you can come in tomorrow to do that, I’ll get everything drawn up,” I said, almost knocking over my coffee as I stood up and reached for my jacket.
“That’s fine. How long can you spare me to look round?”
My smile couldn’t be stopped. “As long as you’ll have me.” The words sounded almost as if they had a different meaning altogether.
Chapter Four
Owen
We walkedto Cases even though the tube would’ve been quicker. I bought coffee to go for us from a café Payton knew well and we walked by the Thames and over the Millennium bridge towards St Paul’s Cathedral. I teased her and found out quickly what buttons I needed to press to get a heated response or a smile. I liked both. I liked her. She was petite and bubbly, wavy blonde hair almost hitting her shoulders and big blue eyes that widened when she was enthusiastic.
“The Pullman trilogy was better thanHarry Potter,” I said, knowing what response I’d elicit.
“If you’re thinking of theNorthern Lights, then you have a point in some ways. But in terms of enjoyment and the having the whole universe to buy in to then you’re overwhelmingly wrong,” she said, taking three steps to my two. She was short: I was possibly a foot taller than her when she wasn’t wearing heels and even with me walking slowly she was still having to try keep up. “Lyra is an incredible character, but she just doesn’t stand up against Hermione.”
“What’s your favourite book of all time?” I asked her. I had no intention of been driven into an argument: I just liked seeing her fiery.
“You of all people should know that’s an impossible question,” she said. “Favourite for what purpose? Favourite as in most admired, or childhood book, or genre specific? Classic or the book I read in the bath when I’ve had a shit day and want to read the literary equivalent of a chocolate bar? Are you actually a book lover or do you just sell books to make money?”
“All of them and both,” I said, opening the door into the first ever Cases. At the front of the store were the freshly published, the top ten in various genres and gift books. Beyond that, the book store specialised in classics and literary fiction, while upstairs was dedicated solely to children’s and young adult books. This was the smallest venue for music, as we didn’t use the upstairs at all. That was solely reserved for children’s authors and story time, plus various other events that were kid-focused. It hadn’t always been that way; when it first opened we stocked everything, but as I opened more premises I decided to give each store a specialism.
“I haven’t been in here,” she said. “And I wish I had.”
“Now you have,” I replied. “And you have a free pass to come here whenever you need to escape. You haven’t told me your favourites.”
“I like lattes. Large ones. And those comfy chairs. And you telling me how you ended up owning several bookstores,” she said and headed to the chairs she’d pointed to, the ones that were near the hardback classics.
Surprisingly, I did as I was told and brought her a coffee, myself a green tea and sat down next to her. She was already immersed in a book:Written on the Bodyby Jeanette Winterson, and rather than interrupt her, I found something myself to read—the new Jack Reacher—and for about half an hour neither of us spoke.
She intrigued me. Everything I’d read about her told me she was a successful lawyer, listing her achievements and significant wins, yet she was only twenty-seven. I knew she was from a family of lawyers and the firm she worked for was hers, along with her siblings. Yet the tiny woman curled up in the chair nursing a book and a coffee, her hair mussed from the breeze outside, looked anything but. There were layers there and some were tired and exhausted.
Blue eyes pierced me from over her book. “My favourite classic isJane Eyre. My favourite children’s book isWhat Katy Did. Best series—Harry Potter. Favourite modern book would beThe Travelling Hornplayerby Barbara Trapido. The fluffy chocolately book for when I need to forget the day isPretend You’re Mineby Lucy Score. Yours?”
I put my book down, remembering the page number. “Norwegian Woodby Haruki Murakami for modern;Hard Timesfor classic; series is the Jack Reacher books;The Weirdstone of Brisingamenfor kids and I don’t have a comfort book. All of those are subject to change at any point.”
Her book was down now, her focus on me which made me want to preen or discreetly flex my biceps that I had caught her checking out before.
“How did you end up with this? I mean, you don’t look like a bookstore owner. You’re not wearing a tank top or tweed and books are too light for you to bench press, so what’s the story there?”
She was trying not to look too interested and kept shifting her eyes so she did not look directly at one part of my anatomy.
I stretched up, managing to flex my arm and hoping she couldn’t tell it was intentional as I’d look a complete dick. “I loved to read growing up. We moved quite a bit, my mum would follow one good cause or another and I’d change schools every so often. Before I made friends in whatever area we were in, I’d read, or sometimes we’d live somewhere fairly remote, so books were something to do. At college I studied computer engineering and learned coding, but took a few modules in literature.”
“That doesn’t explain how you ended up with the finances to invest in this.” She was blunt and to the point.
“While I was taking my Master’s, me and a friend developed a dating app for students and professionals. We sold it eighteen months later for a considerable sum. Don’t judge,” I said, raising my eyebrows. My ex had frowned over the idea of me inventing a dating app, especially as we had tested it out considerably ourselves.
Payton tipped her head to one side and looked at me, clearly assessing. “From dating to bookstores.”
“To maybe dating again?” I looked up at the ceiling as soon as the words came out. There were probably laws against dating clients and I really wanted her to sort out the mess David and my mum had put me in.
