Avery’s jaw tightened, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I’d just described the exact opposite of her. Energetic where she was measured. Cheerful where she was reserved. Outgoing, where she was clearly painfully introverted.
Her lower lip quivered, just slightly, and I felt like the biggest asshole in Arkansas. I’d spent so many years living alone in the woods that I’d forgotten how to talk to women without making them want to cry.
Shit.
“You’re good with customers,” I said quickly, trying to course-correct. “I’ve seen it. You know exactly which books to recommend, and you remember what people bought last time. But I can tell your natural state isn’t suited for constant interaction. You’re an introvert.”
Like me, I almost added, but I bit it back. That felt too personal. I wasn’t ready to admit we had something in common.
“And Bailey’s beautiful,” Avery said quietly, her voice tight. “And a perfect size six.”
I cocked my head, confused by the direction she’d taken.
Bailey was attractive enough, I supposed, in that generic way that young women who spent too much time on their appearance tended to be. But she hadn’t made my pulse kick up the way Avery did every time she got close enough for me to catch her scent.
Avery made me want to smooth-talk my way right in between her thighs.
I opened my mouth to tell her that she was way fucking hotter than Bailey could ever hope to be, but I caught myself just in time.
That wasn’t appropriate. She was my employee for the time being, and I had no business saying shit like that. It wouldn’t be right to seduce the woman who worked for me, even if itwasjust temporary.
But after Marlene gets back.
My cock jumped in my jeans. Well, Avery better watch out then.
Because that’s when I’d pursue her with dogged determination. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since the first moment I’d laid eyes on her.
“Bailey’s got the most retail experience out of everyone we’ve interviewed,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.
“At aclothingstore. In themall. All the way inFernwood.” Avery’s lips twisted. “She doesn’t evenread.”
I recognized the way she said that last part. She’d used the same tone with me yesterday, a quiet judgment that suggested not reading was a moral failing on par with kicking puppies.
I studied her while I finished my burger and fries. She picked at her food, clearly upset, and I found myself noticing things I shouldn’t.
Avery was a curvy sexpot if you were into shy, bookish types. I hadn’t known I was until I met her.
Her cardigan pulled slightly across her chest as she leaned away from the table, stretching the fabric tight over the curve of her breasts. I wanted to dive into her soft curves and explore every inch of her.
When I was done eating, I crumpled up my wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “I don’t think she’s hot,” I said gruffly. “And she said she reads.”
Avery’s lips twitched. “Did you ask what sub-genres she likes? That should be question number one.”
“Sub-genres?”
Avery sighed. “Yes. Let’s just reviewsomeof the genres in the romance section, since that’s where most of our sales come from. You have contemporary, romantasy, small town, mafia, motorcycle, billionaire, and historical, just to name a few. But our big seller is mountain man romance. It’s pretty trendy here, probably on account of us living in the mountains.”
“Mountain man?” he rumbled.
She looked me up and down. “You fit that sub-genre to a tee, straight down to the mud-spattered boots you wear every day and the way you scrub your hand through your beard every time you’re thinking hard. Oh, and that red flannel you’re wearing that hardly fits on your oversized muscles? It makes you a walking cliché.”
Flint pulled his hand away from his beard. “I promise youonething, Avery. I don’t fit inanyof these romance novels.”
“Mm-hm, I alreadyknowthat about you,” she said without missing a beat. “But try telling that to the customers. I fear for your safety when the Mountain Man Romance Book Club starts. The ladies are going tomobyou.”
I blinked hard, trying to come up with a response to that. But in the end, all I did was grunt and wonder what exactly she meant.
“Anyway, then you get into more esoteric categories like paranormal, shifter, and monster fuckers,” she continued. “And let’s not even get started on tropes. Do you even know what a trope is, Flint?”
