Page 31 of To Obsess

“Excuse me?” the man says, standing on the other side of the counter with a pleasant smile. The shaggy black hair falling just over his eyebrows looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. Surely, I would recognize those piercing eyes, though. And gods, that sort of intensity that lights my skin as he focuses on my lips before dragging his gaze back up to meet my eyes.

“Oh, hi! How can I help you today?” I place my novel on the shelf below the register, suddenly feeling rather winded.

“I was looking for a book, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.” He looks at me, all hint of that intensity now gone.

“I think you might just be in luck, seeing as you’re standing in a bookstore,” I say with a chuckle. “Do you know the title or author?”

He shakes his head slowly, creasing his dark brows. “Actually, I was looking for a recommendation. What’s your favorite book here?” He seems almost shy now as the words leave his lips. Gods, those lips.

I clear my throat, banishing the unruly thought. A smirk tilts one side of his mouth, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make the man a fraction more handsome.

“Well, what kind of books do you like?” I stammer, doing my best to regain my composure. “Romance? Fantasy? Sci-fi maybe?”

“I was asking for your recommendation, Violet. If I knew what I was looking for already, I wouldn’t need the help.”

“I…” The words clog my throat when I realize he just called me by my name. “I’m sorry. How do you know my name?”

This earns me a full-on smirk. “You’re wearing a name tag.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he says it. The genuine amusement in his voice makes my heart skip a beat.

“Oh. Duh. I’m so sorry,” I say as the burn of a blush creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. “My favorite recent book is called Admissions and Half-Truths. It was written by an almost-local author, and it follows a young woman as she—” He holds up a hand, halting my spiel.

“I’ll take it.” He pulls a credit card from his pocket, starts to lay it on the counter but changes his mind. Shoving it back in his pocket, he fishes out cash instead. “Grab another of your favorites while you’re at it please.”

“Of course,” I say, quickly walking toward the towering bookshelves along the back wall. I grab Admissions and Half-Truths, along with one of my older favorites—a tale of a young man who finds his soulmate only to be forced to end her life so she can be set free from a curse cast upon her by a spiteful ex-lover. The curse would have forced them to spend their lives separated, so he was doing her a favor in the end, but it’s still absolutely gut-wrenching. Left me ugly crying on the couch for two solid days.

I ring up the books, carefully wrap them in brown paper and slip them into a paper bag before taking his money from the counter.

“Keep the change. Thanks for your help,” he says, taking the bag from my outstretched hand.

“Wait!” I say as he turns his back to me with a smile. “I didn’t catch your name!”

“Another time, darling.” With that, he’s out the door, bell chiming prettily as the sounds from the street filter in around him. When it closes, I’m left reeling with a pounding heart and blush-heated skin.

Flustered, I check to make sure there are no other customers perusing the aisles before I poke my head into the office. “I’m going to take a quick break if that’s alright. There’s nobody in the store right now, so I’m going to step out back and get some air.” Mr. Yates doesn’t even look up from his laptop screen as he nods, dismissing me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even hear what I said.

With that in mind, I prop open the back door with the brick we keep just outside and step into the warm evening air. I suck down a huge lungful, feeling the blush recede and my body relax.

Something about this guy felt so familiar, but I can’t place him to save my life. And the way he switched from flirty to shy to confident so quickly has my head spinning and a pit forming in my stomach. I’ve never seen anyone switch in an instant, at least not between that many emotions. It was almost like being dunked in a vat of ice water each time it happened.

I pull my phone from my pocket, seeing one new text and one old. The new one, received twenty-three minutes ago is from Abby. A quick message about the ratings on the newest episode of the podcast, raving about how great this idea is turning out. The old message was from this morning—the one I had mistakenly assumed was from Abby.

A chill wracks my body as my eyes skate across the words again, then one more time just to be sure I’m reading it right. This is so bad.

Chapter 29

Violet

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m dead on my feet. Between spending the night at Mason’s unintentionally, the shift at the bookstore, and the text from the unknown number, I’m beyond exhausted. All I can think about is a nice hot bath and my bed.

I make it as far as the bath at least. Normally, I’d opt for a shower, but my muscles feel tight and a long bath is exactly what I need. An hour laying in the bath, draining the water and refilling it when it cools too much to be comfortable, soothes the aches that have taken root deep in my muscles. After the third time, I pull the plug with a groan, not ready to give up the warmth but also not willing to continue this cycle any longer.

I towel off, rub my entire body down with lotion, and slide my arms through the sleeves of my robe, tying it loosely in the front.

Once I’ve piled my hair on top of my head, all I need is a nice glass of wine to finish the night off right. I pad to the kitchen on bare feet, relishing the feel of the cool wood beneath them, then pour a heavy glass and make my way to the back porch.

When I bought this house a few years ago, it quickly became a habit to sit out here on warm nights with a glass of wine or whiskey, taking in the world around me. Out here, there are no streetlights to disrupt the view of the stars. There’s no view of town or passing cars. Just the wide-open sky and the forest at the far edge of the yard.

I melt into my chair but jump when something touches the back of my thighs. I open the door, place my wine glass on the counter, and flip on the light. Amber light floods the small porch, illuminating the chairs and what lies in one of them.