Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(166)

With breakfast finished, my morning preparations done, both of us were driving around the city on the way to my apartment.

“It won’t take long,” I said. “That’s my favorite bookstore. I just want to grab a book.”

“Right. Because Asher doesn’t own enough books. I totally understand.”

I sat up front this time, as opposed to the backseat when Jeremy first drove Asher and I to the Landseer estate. I rolled my eyes at Jeremy as he rolled his eyes at me.

“You don’t get it,” I said. “It’s a different experience looking through a bookstore. It’s not the same if you already own the book. Buying a new book is exciting.”

“Technically you don’t own the books in Asher’s library,” Jeremy said as a point of fact.

“Ugh! That’s not even it,” I said.

“Fine. We can stop here, but don’t take forever. I know your type, you book people. Wandering through aisles of shelves for hours and then you forget what you were even doing beforehand. We have stuff to do today. You have ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, offering him a disingenuous salute. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t you sass me, girl.”

I laughed. “This is fun. Are you going to come in? I’ll introduce you to the owner. He’s very nice.”

“You have a cracked idea of fun,” Jeremy said. Then he softened. “Yeah, let me park the car and then I’ll be right in. Have to make sure you don’t take forever, right?”

“Right,” I said.

Jeremy let me out in front of the independent bookshop we’d been idling in front of forever. I waltzed towards the entryway, feeling light and springy, then swung open the door and walked inside. Robert, the owner, wasn’t behind the counter, but that wasn’t too strange. Sometimes he did things in the back, or went around re-organizing the shelves. I’d see him soon, no doubt.

I headed directly to my favorite section. It wasn’t exactly my section, but it might as well be. Robert had it set up with books he thought I’d like, and he said that since he’d done it he’d seen an increase in sales. I didn’t know if he was just being nice, or if his other customers really enjoyed my choice in books, but it was neat to have a section somewhat of my own.

Literary fiction, with some romance. I liked historical and contemporary, and sometimes fantasy ones. I really enjoyed Elizabeth Haydon, but she hadn’t written a new book in forever. The occasional science fiction book was good, too, like Dune, but I wasn’t too into the genre as a whole.

Unfortunately the shelves that usually contained the books in my section were empty. Some books lay in stacks nearby, presumably left there from some planned redesign of the shelves. This was both exciting and upsetting. I looked forward to seeing what Robert might change, and had a few suggestions for him, but that didn’t help me right now. I sifted through one of the nearby stacks just in case I found something new and interesting.

I didn’t, but it was nice to catch up on old books I’d read. I remembered the ideas in them, and the thoughts I had while reading them, like a memory within a memory. Yes, this one, a Glen Cook book I didn’t actually think I’d like, but enjoyed very much. I’d taken it with me in the bath and read amidst bubbles. When the fantasy army started fighting off their magical enemies, I turned the hot water on to fix the temperature of my lukewarm bathwater.

It was fun to remember things like that.

I moved to a table with more stacks, planning to check through them, too. I stopped before I started, though, feeling odd. Something… oh, yes. Nearby was the curtained off doorway to the local book club’s meeting room. And people were talking behind the curtain.

Nothing too strange, except it was a bit early for a book club meeting. Sometimes they did lunchtime ones for people who had long lunches, but still, it was barely past ten. When I listened further, it didn’t sound like any book discussion I’d ever heard, either.

“You have to understand,” a man said, “we need to tread carefully here. It’s not something we can enter into lightly.”

He sounded familiar somehow, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Why?” a woman asked. “Just do it. Figure out some plan. I’m tired of this. It’s always the same. Always. Do you know what he did last night? He brought home some woman. He plans to have her act as a mother where I can’t. I keep having to lie to him, and I’m tired of it. Do you know how much of a nuisance it was to pay off the doctor to say I was…”

“Shh,” the man said. “Not so loud.”