Page 20 of Offsides Attraction

Both coaches looked surprised at his offer. Bash shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with their reaction. He was helpful. When it was convenient or beneficial. The same as everyone else was.

Nickerson handed his phone to Sam. “No harm in talking to her, right?” he asked as Sam entered Ruthie’s phone number.

Chapter 9

“He’s baaack,” Elspeth sang into Penny’s ear as she joined her in the customer service area.

“I know. Bit like a bad penny,” she said under her breath as she pulled the customer’s special order from the stack.

“Or an STD.” Penny elbowed her aunt. The last thing she needed was to think about was an STD which would lead to thinking about sex, which would lead to thinking about sex with Bash, and she didn’t need to add that fuel to the fire. He’d already crashed into a dream.

Calling her out on her rude behavior still stung, but on a morning run she’d concluded Bash Vetter was like a sugar cookie. She wasn’t a fan, even of Maggie’s special recipe, which had a subtle hint of citrus. But, if she was in public and someone offered her a sugar cookie, she’d accept it gracefully to be polite. In her private life, she avoided them. Treating Bash like a sugar cookie would get her through the season. She didn’t have to like him, but she could accept him.

He’d stopped into the store a few times in the last week. Browsing, but never buying. One night she’d caught him slumped in a reading chair near the mystery club, listening in with his ball cap pulled down low and the collar of his leather jacket pulled up. That bad boy look is the night he’d sneaked into her dreamland. Sometimes she caught him making notes on his phone or taking pictures of displays after he’d carefully put the books back where they belonged. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was staking the store for a burglary or a buyout.

Today he waited in line empty-handed, bouncing on his feet. Penny placed the two thrillers, a book about British spies during World War II, and a Winston Churchill biography on the counter. “Have you read any of the Maggie Dobbs mysteries by Jacqueline Winspear?” she asked the customer.

“No, I haven’t, but if you say they’re good, I’ll give it a try. You’ve never steered me wrong.“

“We have a few on the shelves. Would you like me to get you the first book in the series?” The older man nodded, and Penny felt Bash’s eyes on her as she walked across the floor. A tingly feeling raced up her back until she escaped into the mysteries section.

She almost ran into the counter as she heard the man thanking Bash as she neared the register. Penny couldn’t imagine Bash willingly having a conversation and she didn’t think Mr. Brown, a devoted reader, was a football fan. She took his payment for Maisie Dobbs and carefully put all his books into his reusable bag prominently displaying the Get Lost’s logo of a traveler walking a path and reading a book surrounded by a pirate’s ship, a dragon, a smoking gun, a castle, a couple kissing, and a few other nods to book genres. “Enjoy your books,” she said, handing them to Mr. Brown.

“Oh, I will. It’s reading season now that the weather’s getting colder.”

“It’s always reading season,” Penny teased, knowing that Mr. Brown spent most of his spring and summer tending his elaborate gardens or traveling with his wife, a dedicated knitter and reader no matter the season. Mrs. Brown was a co-leader of the women’s fiction group, which reminded Penny to call her and see what book they’d decided on for February.

Bash approached the counter and Penny grabbed the mail stack. She could sort the mail and deal with the sugar cookie. “Hello. Do you need help finding the books with the x’s and o’s?” Penny wanted to slap herself for the rude comment, but Bash chuckled. She gave him a quick smile as the first two pieces went into the recycling pile.

He placed his hands on the edge of the counter, leaning toward her and looking around, as if expecting a tackle. “Do you have any books with the audio?”

“No, sorry. Audiobooks never sold well for us.”

“Not audiobooks, but a book you could read and listen to at the same time. To help with your reading skills.”

“For early readers? If you let me know their interests, I can check the catalogues and order something in.”

“This would be for an adult.” Her hand stilled, and she swallowed.

“Oh, um”—she reached for his hand but snatched it back before they touched—“I’ve never seen anything like that. But I’m more than happy to look and see what we can put together. What types of stories are you interested in?” Penny’s heart broke for him as the pieces fell into place: why he preferred movies, why he’d mentioned the Ricky Rivera television show, why he’d listened to other groups and hung around. He’d been working up the nerve to talk to her about this private and embarrassing matter. Penny felt sick.

“Penny, relax. They’re not for me. It’s for someone on the team.”

“Oh, well, what does your friend like?” she asked, feeling better.

“Colleague, and other than blocking and tackling, I don’t know.”

“So, business?” The corners of his mouth twitched at her lame joke, and she felt on solid ground again.

“Probably not.”

“I’m assuming he has the basics, like an elementary level, but let me think about it. We might need to create our own package with the audio book and the physical book. But one with a non-juvenile cover. And I’ll check to see if there’re any audiobooks that play better at a slower speed. When did you want it?” she asked excitedly.

“Whenever you find it.” She’d never researched anything like this. And maybe her efforts would create a book lover? Who’d have thought her sugar cookie would bring her a treat? She smiled at him, genuinely, for the first time, but he stared at her like she was the village idiot. Her glow dimmed. “And I trust you, so if you think of something that might work better, I’m open to it,” he said.

“Right.” She returned to her mail, undeterred, as he watched her. Finally. She slipped her finger under the envelope’s flap and ripped it open. She quickly scanned the letter. Thank you for your interest…busy schedule…time of year…regret to inform you. She folded the letter. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, not meeting his eyes before fleeing to the privacy of their office.

Penny tossed the letter on the desk, unsure of its fate or theirs. Ripping it to shreds or burning it would be satisfying, but with her luck, someone would smell smoke and call the fire department. She tore it in half, stacking the two pieces together before ripping it again. Penny focused on destroying it, just like it had destroyed her plans for the fourth quarter.

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