Page 200 of Overcast

“I’m so happy to have you, Miss Ivanov,” Matteo offers, saying my last name differently than I have. “The last girl that worked here wasn’t a fan of the small city life and moved on to greater and better things.”

“Happy to be here,” I reply, attempting to have some sort of gratefulness in my tone. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Don’t mention it—” He throws his hand in the air. “—I’m going to go do the accounting in the back and make us some coffee. Feel free to look around on your own and holler if you have any questions.”

I finger gun him—yep, like an idiot. “Thank you.”

He disappears into the small office that barely holds a desk and filing cabinet, giving me the space that I so desperately want.

It’s short-lived when a man walks through the front door, the generic bells ringing behind him, as he strides towards one of the bookshelves positioned in the middle of the room.

His dark blonde hair is long in the front but short around the edges as he quickly peruses through a hardcover. I notice that he doesn’t look much older than me. His oval face is clean-shaven, and he’s well put together with a dark pair of jeans and mint green polo.

As I study him from behind the cashier’s counter, he must feel my gaze because he glances over his shoulder before lifting his lips in a friendly smile.

“Hi,” he greets. “Are you the new girl that bought the Genova’s place?”

No clue.

“I might be,” I reply.

“Welcome to Silver Lake—” To my dismay, he marches in my direction, wanting to start a conversation. “—it’s...well, I guess you’ll find out, huh?”

“Guess so,” I deadpan then point at his book because I need to be friendly in this new place and attempt to fit in. “What do you have there?”

“The new Stephen King. I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve been waiting for Matteo to finally snatch up a few copies.”

“Nothing embarrassing about it.”

“Are you a fan?” He sounds hopeful like he’s part of his online fan club or something.

I shake my head. “Never read him, but I think I’ve seen one of his books made into a movie.”

“Gosh, where are my manners—” He extends a hand. “—I’m Eli Quinn, born and raised here, I work in the next town over as a second-grade teacher, and I hate green beans.”

I take his hand, giving it a shake before replying, “Raine.”

Eli perks a brow at me. “That’s it?”

“I like green beans and my second-grade teacher.” He chuckles, clearly not deterred by my reserved fact giving.

“Well, that’s good to know—” He rakes a hand through his hair. “—I hope my students feel the same way.”

“I’m sure they do as long as you don’t bore them to death with your obsession for Stephen King.”

“His stories are amazing, though.”

“Not to a six or seven-year-old.”

“Talking from experience?” I nod, and he clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Well, shit, I guess there goes that next book report idea.” I grin, the first one I’ve had in over a week, which makes Eli smile. “I guess I’ll let them chose.”

“You teach English?”

“Yeah, I try to make it fun, but these kids don’t care about nouns and adjectives. If I can get them to read something other than Minecraft or Fortnite, I’m winning.”

“Real life teacher problems, huh?”

He sighs. “It’s a struggle, but I get high fives, so I guess I’m cool.” He places his book down on the countertop and pulls out his wallet. “And I’m going to buy this and stop talking your ear off.”

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