Page 4 of Hook, Line and Single

‘Good. I’ve done a “Ruby’s Recommendation” card for it.’

‘Great. And Sam? Still no sign of love on the horizon?’

‘It’s only been two weeks, Jono.’

‘Yes, but a woman like that needs to be adored. If I were straight?—’

‘You’d worship her like a goddess, I know. You’ve told me more times than I care to remember.’

‘A flame-haired goddess.’

‘Are you sure you’re not in love with her? Does Robbie know?’

‘Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty in a woman, and my admiration for her is purely based on aesthetics, like a fine artist appreciating his subject. In fact, a lot of the great artists were obsessed with redheads, so I’m in good company. Look at Botticelli’sThe Birth of Venus, for starters.’

‘OK, OK. You win!’ I tell him exasperatedly. ‘Redheads rule the world and the rest of us are flat and monochrome in their presence. Is that better?’

He sighs. ‘I’m not saying you’re flat and monochrome, Ruby. You’re beautiful too, but in a different way. You’re more pre-Raphaelite, with your wavy dark locks, your piercing blue eyes and your sumptuous curves.’

‘Are you saying I’m fat now?’ This is a new one from him, and I’m not going to let him get away with it.

‘Of course I’m not! Bloody hell, you’re prickly this morning. I’m paying you a compliment. Would you rather look like one of those depressing undernourished androgenous types who pound the pavement for hour after hour in revolting spandex, only to go home and feast on two sticks of celery and a carrot? Who invented spandex, anyway? They should be ashamed of themselves.’

I smile at him. As attempts to dig himself out of a hole go, that wasn’t too shabby. I’m not quite ready to let him off the hook completely though.

‘Curves,’ I repeat mock-disapprovingly.

‘Sumptuous curves. It’s a good thing.’

‘Hmm. I guess I do prefer my carrots in the form of a cake, but I’m not sure I want to be described as sumptuous. Definitely sounds fat in all but name.’

‘Sit with it,’ he advises. ‘It might grow on you.’

‘I doubt it. Remind me never to ask you if my backside looks big in anything.’

‘You’re a girl, you’re meant to have?—’

‘Stop!’ I order him. ‘If you value your life, stop now.’

He grins and winks. ‘If you don’t want to hear the answer, don’t ask the question. Coffee?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I’ll bring it over when the machine’s warmed up.’

* * *

It’s a typically busy trading day; the coffee bar is humming with conversation and a fair number of people are browsing the shelves. A teenaged girl is taking a selfie with Samson. I don’t know what he thinks is going on when this happens, but he’s a bit of a social media star locally, so he’s completely used to people shoving their phones in his face. We’ve had a steady stream of enquiries and book orders too, as well as people collecting books that we’ve ordered in and put aside for them.

‘Excuse me?’ I look up to see a woman approximately my age, maybe a couple of years younger.

‘Yes, how can I help?’ I ask.

‘I was looking for a book I saw on TikTok. Something about someone’s beaver needing a trim? Do you know anything about it?’

The double-entendre isn’t lost on me, and I study her for a moment, trying to work out if she’s winding me up.

‘I don’t know that one, I’m afraid,’ I tell her, being careful to keep my voice completely neutral. ‘Do you have any more information?’

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