“This was some vision,” Ava said, taking in the surroundings. “Pretty much everything that could’ve been restored has been. Even the original fireplaces are dotted about.”
“And so many books,” I said, hoping I hadn’t drooled when I spoke.
“But you only read electronically these days. Mainly because the covers are too embarrassing to be seen with,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “God gave us book boyfriends to make up for how fecking shit other men are. Actually, it’s not the covers, it’s just easier to read on my phone or my Kindle or my iPad. I still buy books though.”
“I know; I’ve seen the mess that is your lounge. I wish you’d move; let me find a nice townhouse for you where you could have your own snug. I’ll meet you in the bar—I’ve got a birthday present to buy,” she said wandering away in her own world.
I left her to it and started to browse the shelves, looking for some pretty classics for Max and Victoria—and something for myself. The shop had an immense collection of unusual books: editions ofAlice in Wonderlandand Ted Hughes’ poetry that I hadn’t come across before and I soon had a basket full of treats that meant getting them home would be a workout in itself.
Popping the basket on the floor, I took out my phone and took a step back, wanting to get a really good shelfie for my collection on Instagram. The different bindings and colours were far too pretty to ignore and it was a good bit of inspiration for when I finally did move and got that big bookcase I’d always dreamed of.
“Shit!”
I wasn’t sure who said the word first but my phone bounced on the floor and my ass was about to follow. The brick of a person I’d backed into caught me from behind which allowed me to rearrange my legs into a stable position.
“Why is the world obsessed with taking photos?”
I swung around, my mother’s Irish temper raising its very ugly head. “Why is the world not? There’s nothing wrong with trying to capture something beautiful and if you can’t appreciate that,” I gestured to the shelf, “then go and find the nearest sports shop. I’m sure that’ll be more to your taste!” He was wearing a T-shirt that was tight over his chest and biceps. One arm was tattooed which did not match the round glasses that were perched on a strong nose. His light brown hair was neatly cut and he needed a shave. And a sense of humour.
His arms crossed over his chest and he glared at me, his biceps bulging. I folded my own arms and matched his expression.
“If I wanted to own a sports shop then that’s what I would’ve invested in, instead of a bookshop, princess.”
I laughed with feigned hysteria, aware that a few people were looking our way. “Nice try, Thor wannabe. Now crawl back under your nearest weight stack and pin yourself down if you will.”
A suited security guard had glided towards us. He had my phone in his hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. “See, it’s clearly obvious you’re only in here to cause trouble and insult people. Behaviour much better suited to elsewhere.”
“Mr Anders is this lady causing you trouble?”
I stared at the security guard.
“She’s nothing I can’t handle. Thanks, Reece.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose and accepted my phone from the guard.
“Nothing you can’t handle?”
“Trust me, princess, you aren’t anywhere near the top of the shit storm I’m dealing with. Now, are you in my store to buy books or just take pretty pictures for your social media accounts?”
He actually owned the store? This was the owner of Cases? I’d thought it was some old guy who had bought the premises?
“No way are you the owner.”
He eyed me, arms still folded. He was tall, taller than any of my brothers which was why I’d thought I’d stepped back into a brick wall. “I’d show you the legal documents but I’m sure they’re not something you’d be interested in.”
My laugh was pure genuine pleasure. “Actually, dealing with legal documents is my job, you pretentious arsehole. I’m a lawyer, one who specialises in business, so if you want to put your stereotypical judgements back in that Neanderthal mouth of yours, you might not lose business.” I pointed to the basket overflowing with books on the floor. “That is what I was going to buy from you. But you know, maybe I should go to one of your competitors. They might be more understanding of someone who really likes books and just wanted a picture to help model their own bookcase.” I left out the part about Instagram. That was not in my best interests at present.
He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his nose. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t spend much time on the shop floor and today is not good for me trying to be a people person.” He rolled his shoulders and holy fuck the man was built. “Owen Anders, not an asshole most of the time.” He held out the hand that didn’t contain my phone.
I debated not taking it, because I could be a dick like that, but the look on his face was one of genuine sorrow. “Payton Callaghan, book lover and present buyer.”
“And lawyer.”
“And lawyer,” I repeated.
“Can I have your business card?”
I frowned, puzzled.
