Page 24 of Eden's Joker

“Good day, how can I help you?” she says, the tightness in her voice belying the wide smile on her face.

“I just have to say, that’s such a beautiful Alice in Wonderland display you have in your window,” I say. “I wish I was creative enough to pull something like that off in my shop.”

“You have a bookshop too?” she asks, the gleam in her eye contagious.

And before I know it, I’m telling her all about my small-town bookstore and she’s telling me all about hers. I lose track of Tyler and time, since books are a topic so close to my heart I could spend days just talking about them and nothing else. Once I realizethat’s what I’m doing and check on him, he seems perfectly content just browsing the shelves upon shelves of books in here.

“You have a lot more truly valuable books in here, though,” I tell her. “I’ve only just started my first shelf of collectibles. Mostly books I love and wouldn’t want to part with anyway. That Alice in Wonderland edition in the window... I’ve never seen that one before... I love the story and I’d love to add it to my collection.”

I’m sure I told her how much I love Alice in Wonderland about a dozen times since this conversation started, so maybe the bemused smile on her face is because of that.

“Not for sale, I’m afraid,” she says, dashing my hopes. “I’m sure you’ll understand, since it’s part of my personal collection. Just like you have yours.”

“I do?—"

“Come on, now, everything has a price.” Tyler’s voice floats to us from across the room before I can finish telling her I do understand.

The lady gives him a dark look, but the Cheshire cat grin on his face is unwavering as he walks up to us.

“That one doesn’t,” she says firmly.

They lock eyes and for a moment I’m afraid Tyler is going to press her for it. A part of me even thinks he won’t take no for an answer, that he’ll get me the book just because I want it. And a part of me would like him to do that very much. But not the part that’s in control.

I lay a hand on his arm to stop him from saying anything more. I’d take his hand but he’s carrying a bunch of books.

“The lady said no,” I tell him and smile at her, because the tension between them is palpable now, and turning dark fast. “I’d never ask another book lover to relinquish their prized books. Just like I’d never part with mine.”

She smiles at me, gratefully and in a relieved way. Worried too. For me, I think. Tyler scares her which is understandable. I sometimes forget that just because I’ve grown up around hard, tough bikers and count them as my family, doesn’t mean they don’t come across as scary dudes to most everyone else.

“If you’re sure,” he says and finally breaks eye-contact with her. She actually sighs in relief.

“You might like some of these, though,” he says and shows me the books he’s brought. They’re all either old copies of Alice in Wonderland or Wuthering Heights.

I take them from him and lay them on the counter, admiring each before picking four I don’t already have.

“I’ll take these,” I say and smile at Myra. “The other three I already have.”

Myra looks cautiously happy. “These’ll run you a pretty penny.”

“That’s not an issue,” Tyler says before I can.

“No, it really isn’t,” I say, looking at him pointedly. “I got it.”

“Nonsense,” he says and pulls out a stack ofhundred-dollar bills held together by a silver money clip like some gangster might use. He adds one of the copies of Wuthering Heights I rejected to the pile—the one I already have, with Catherine running for Heathcliff across a sea of thorns. “And I’ll take this one for myself. I want to read it.”

Myra’s no longer scared. Her eyes are actually gleaming. I decide to not have this argument in front of her and let him pay. I can pay him back later. No way I’m letting him spend over two grand on books for me on our second date. Though I have to admit, it feels nice.

None of my friends would last half this long in the store with me and none would understand me dropping this kind of cash on old books. The fact that he did both of those things makes me feel all sorts of warmth inside. The kind I’ve only read about.

A couple of minutes later, I say a cheery goodbye to the shop owner, promising I’ll be back soon. The golden light of sunset is flooding the street as we emerge from the store.

“You didn’t have to get me all those books,” I tell him. “I’ll pay you back. My allowance, or trust fund, or whatever you want to call it, is more than high enough.”

He has another expression I can’t read on his face again. This one isn’t a smile though. It’s the exact opposite of a smile.

“Good, I’m glad it was good for something,” hesays, stopping abruptly like he said too much. “But this is my gift to you, and I don’t do take backs.”

The finality in his voice is as hard as the icy plains in his eyes that even the soft, golden sunset light can’t touch. There’s no arguing with it, but I want to anyway. Until he finally grins again.

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