Page 50 of Hiding from Hope

He steps closer to me, a hand on the door frame above mine, and leans in.

“Good,” he says, low enough just for me, his mouth hovering just above mine, and when his eyes dart to my lips, I lose my breath. He leans in and places a soft, chaste kiss to mine that has electricity coursing through my entire body. His one touch lighting me on fire, but it’s gone the moment he pulls away. I take a step back, and when I look to him, his eyes seem darker.

He hits his fist into his palm and takes rapid steps back, biting his lip to hide the real smile I’ve been dying to glimpse again, before he turns without another word and rounds the corner to the elevators.

Jessie

“That book club has been in twice this week, and the romance sales have increased so much in the last couple of weeks, I think we need to expand the collection,” April informs me. “I have a few Indie authors I follow and they’re super popular. I can send you some recommendations if you like?” Groaning, I rub a hand down my face. Why can’t general fiction or a love for classics be what trends? Even biographies? I’d take that over this glorified porn the kids are reading these days.

I say kids, but I’m well aware it’s just women everywhere. Including my sisters.

I hired April, who’s just started college, as a sales assistant on the bookshop side of things. It was also because I, too, recognized the change in customer base to young women and knew that I wasn’t going to be of much assistance to them.

A shiver courses through my body, and I nod at April.

“Okay, get me a list. I’ll price it and see what we can do.” She nods and continues with her box of new stock that she is shelving. Grabbing another, I place it on a stool next to her.

“These have to go away, too, but some are up there.” I point to the taller shelves. “Just leave them. I will do them later.” I turn to head for the coffee counter after hearing the door chime sound, indicating new walk-ins.

“Oh, I can just use the ladder?” she retorts. But a workplace claim is the last thing I need right now.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get to them. Anything above your reaching height, just leave out back. I’ll do them tonight.” She nods and continues with what she is doing.

As I head to the front counter, I see a greasy man in a suit. Short and slightly overweight, his comb-over doing nothing to hide his balding, and the hairs on the back of my neck prick up.

“What can I get you?” I ask, assessing him.

“Is the shop owner around?” You’d know the answer to that if you stopped to look up from your phone.

“He is.” My voice lowers, and I cross my arms over my chest. He remains silent, I assume, waiting for me to continue. When I don’t, he looks up at me. Raising a brow, I wait for whatever genius this moron is about to come out with.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Tom, I work for Ryder Developments. Nice location you have here.” He throws his hand out to shake and plasters on a smile that just makes me angry. My lips curl in disgust as I look from his hand back to him.

“What can I get you, Tom?” I ask again, not uncrossing my arms.

I know exactly what he wants. My shop.

The location is perfect, hence why I fucking bought it. It is surrounded by mid to high scale residential apartments. Some business types and some ‘hipsters’, as Rosie calls them, both great for my customer base, and I’m also a short walk from a corporate district. Which means I get lunch time walk-ins and some post-workday drifters, needing something to perk them up or help them wind down.

The location is perfect. And I’m ready to tell fucking Tom the same thing I told the last developer. I’m not fucking selling.

“Well, you have a great location here, heart of every corner, and, well, it would be great if we could have a chat. Discuss numbers? I know the right buyer who could set you up for life in purchasing this from you. Take away the burden. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”

In case you’re wondering, this is almost identical to the last developer sales guy. Telling me how much of a burden having the shop is. How I’ll practically thank them for taking it off my hands.

The difference with this time? I don’t have the endless cash flow from my parents for the bad weeks. I can no longer coast on just enjoying the store and the lifestyle it affords me. I’m officially a small business surviving on a terrible economy, with taxes, wages, and general overheads biting me in the ass.

I’m not in the red, and we’d have to continue like this for at least another year before I’d need to look at down-sizing or even selling. But I’m not giving up on this.

Not yet.

“You want a coffee?” I ask, staring into his eyes, hoping he sees the very real ‘fuck off’ I am trying to communicate to him.

I watch him gulp and nervously laugh.

“Uhh, sure, I’ll just take a latte.” I nod and get busy making the latte as he starts to walk around the shop. I watch him as closely as I can, not trusting this slime ball.

I make quick work of the latte and slide it across the counter. He throws down a few bills, well and truly over the price of the coffee, and it makes my skin heat with anger. This fucker thinks he can throw some cash around like a big swinging dick and I’ll just fall at his feet?

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