He chuckles softly. “You could never be‘unsexy’, Ivy. I should let you go so you can browse for books without distractions.”
I stop outside Pied Piper Books. “You’re the best kind of distraction. I don’t want to stop talking to you.”
“I don’t either.” His voice has dropped again and it sends a shiver through me. “I’ve been cursing these blasted time zones. By the time you get home, I’ll be in bed.”
This has definitely presented a problem over the last few weeks. We had never discussed the possibility of phone sex or even sexting, but between both of us being busy, plus the fact it’s the middle of the night in Scotland by the time I go to bed, it hasn’t come up. In the week and a bit we’d been having sex before Hugh left, we managed to havea lotof sex. It’s just one of the many things I miss about him. That pink vibrator he found our first night together has been getting quite the workout lately.
“I really should be off anyway,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “I need to send a couple of emails before the end of business day in your time zone.”
I groan. “These short conversations are such a tease. And so was that picture of you in the kilt, by the way. You’re playing dirty.”
“How ’bout I make it up to you this weekend? We’ll Skype and I’ll wear the kilt again. If you’re good, I’ll give you a peek at what’s underneath.”
Talk about playing dirty. “You mean I’ll find out firsthand the answer to the age-old question of what a true Scotsman wears under his kilt?” He rumbles out a laugh, and I continue. “Fine, I can wait until the weekend. But in the meantime, when I get home tonight I’m going to send you a selfie of my own. Remember that tartan underwear I told you Bridget gave me as a gag gift for Christmas? Turns out I really like them and wear them often. I have a feeling you’d like them too, especially since they happen to be a thong.”
Now it’s his turn to groan. I picture him sitting on the side of his bed, bare chest rising and falling quickly, maybe his hand snaking under his kilt…oh god, I need to stop or I’m going to be forced to jump into the nearest puddle of melted slush.
“I’ll look forward to it,” he says in a rough voice. “I miss you, Ivy.”
“I miss you too.” There’s a loaded pause and then we promise to speak again soon. I take a minute to gather myself before entering Pied Piper’s. It’s quiet inside, except for the soft music that always filters from hidden speakers. A loud thump, followed by what sounds like a cry of pain comes from the back room.
“Piper?” I call.
“Just a…sec,” she calls, her voice muffled.
I’m about to go investigate when the back door swings open and Piper hobbles out. She’s clutching the portable phone that’s like an extra appendage whenever the store is open. “Oh, Ivy, it’s you.” Normally when someone says this, it gives you thatgee thanksfeeling, but she sounds relieved. “You know Cami, the blond girl who’s been working here for awhile now? Well, she kept calling in sick and when she called in yet again today, I asked her if everything was okay. She said she was going to make a doctor’s appointment to see what was going on, and then I heard some girls giggling in the background. Turns out she’snotsick, just lazy and unprofessional.”
She’s breathless by the time she gets all this out. She takes in a huge gulp of air before continuing. “I had to fire her. I can’t have people pulling shit like this. This is a small, independently run business, and I need people I can count on. But now I’m one person short and I hate the process of finding new employees. It took meweeksto find her.”
“Oh no.” My brain is whirring. Loudly. I think back to my conversation earlier with Bridget.‘What would you do if you left?’My gaze sweeps the store—bright, colorful, spacious. Then, of course, there are the books. All those glorious books. “Hire me,” I blurt.
There’s a beat of silence before Piper starts laughing. She sobers quickly when she sees my face. Her amusement morphs into confusion, then disbelief, then something akin to hope. “Wait, what? You already have a job.”
“Yeah, a job I’m not happy with,” I tell her. “You know it’s always been my dream to own a bookstore, but it’s just that—a dream. I can’t imagine actually doing it. Aside from the fact this city is fairly small and another bookstore would be direct competition, I don’t know the first thing about running a business. This would be ideal. I’d get to work with books without the responsibility of actually running the place.”
Now I’m the one who has to pause to suck in air because I’m talking so fast. “Think about it. This would be the perfect way for me to get to know your customer base firsthand and plan my marketing strategy accordingly. It’d be like killing two birds with one stone: filling the now-empty position, plus helping me do the job you’ve already hired me to do.”
Piper looks stunned, but her eyes are bright.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” I say. “Think about it and call me when you’ve figured it out. I’d need to give notice at work, but if you needed me to do evenings and weekends, I could do that. I got used to ridiculous hours while I was working at the Village. And if you decide to hire someone else, no hard feelings. I’ll still put my all into a marketing plan for you.”
She bobs her head slowly. “I’ll think about it,” she says at length. Despite telling her to do just that, my heart drops. I guess I can’t blame her for not deciding on the spot. I have no retail experience, after all. “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”
I leave an hour later with a few new books and a reiterated promise from Piper that she’ll let me know her decision soon. I swing by Luigi’s and get Don to put together a takeout order of the night’s specials for Celia and me. I’ve been coming here at least once a week since Hugh left, either dining in or getting takeout. Don has practically accepted me as a member of the family, and I think even his mother is warming up to me. She often looks at me with sad eyes and mutters something in Italian about Hugh.
Celia and I eat together in front of the TV—our new ritual when both of us are home—and then I go to my room to snuggle with Fiddlesticks and read. I’m nodding off when my phone buzzes. Hugh’s name pops up and I do some quick math; it’s nearly four in the morning there.
“Is everything okay?” I ask by way of greeting.
“Fine, love.” His voice is soft, soothing. “I couldn’t sleep and I hoped you hadn’t gone to bed yet. Thought I’d try my luck.”
“This feels like my lucky day, getting to talk to you twice.” I settle back in bed, nestling into my pillows. Fiddlesticks climbs into my lap. I wonder if she recognizes Hugh’s voice coming from the phone. “Fiddlesticks says hi.”
“Give her a pet for me,” he says. “And one for yourself too.”
I laugh, surprised. “I’ve got that covered, don’t worry.”
He makes a soft moaning sound. “I was thinking we could pick up our conversation from earlier.” The way his Rs roll makes heat zing right to my center. “You never did send me that picture you promised.”
