Page 62 of Perfect Mess

“Lucky for you, I do.” I looked around at the surrounding shelves. “You have the architecture book, so that covers the sexy intellectual angle. But Janet’s favorite books are supernatural romance.”

Gary made a face.

“You’re not secretly a werewolf, are you?”

“Not that I know of. But it has been a while since my last lycanthropy screening.”

“Is that the one where you bend over and cough?”

“No, that’s for vampirism.”

“Here.” I handed Gary a book with a cover that showed a raven haired woman, breasts bursting out of her evening gown, flanked by a half naked, muscle bound werewolf on one side and a half naked, muscle bound vampire on the other. It was calledBlood Moon Lust.

“People read this stuff?”

“Janet does. Follow me.”

I led Gary through the bookstore. I added Wealth Investing, Vegan Cooking, and the Kama Sutra to the stack in his arms as we went.

“You know, technically, I already know how to do all these things.”

I stopped and spun around so quickly that Gary almost dropped the pile of books on my toes. “Wait. All of them?”

A bit of a smile curled on Gary’s lips. “If this plan of yours gets Janet to go out with me, then you can ask her later to verify.”

I’m not sure why, but my heart started beating like I was being chased by a pack of werewolves and vampires through the woods. I had to stop for a moment, hand braced on a shelf.

Concern clouded Gary’s face. “Hey, Mary, I was just kidding?” He paused, then added, “I don’t really know how to cook vegan.”

I slapped Gary on the arm.

“Maybe I should get a self defense book. Karate or kung fu?”

I noticed we had stopped in the poetry section, and I got an idea. “This is perfect.” I pulled a big leather bound volume from the shelf, then put it on top of the other books. Gary looked like a pack mule overladen with supplies, about to topple over from the weight.

“What’s that one?”

“French poetry.”

“Janet likes French poetry?”

“Nobody likes French poetry. But women like sensitivity. You know, all that touchy-feely nonsense. And French poetry is about as fluffy as you can get.”

“I don’t speak French.”

“That’s the beauty of it. Neither does Janet. You could speak Portuguese and she wouldn’t know the difference.”

“I don’t speak Portuguese either.”

I stepped back to survey my handiwork. As I looked over the collection of books, I thought Plan B, which was now Plan A, might actually be even better than the original Plan A after all.

Janet loved books. Once she saw Gary shared her passions, she couldn’t help herself but fall head over heels.

Take that universe. Mary Burns was on the board.

The twinkling lights from the gnome village gave Gary’s eyes a warm glow. Standing there with the heavy stack of books in his arms, I could see the muscles in his biceps flexing under the weight. My eyes drifted to the title on the spine of the book just under the French poetry.Kama Sutra. My heart started beating faster again.I already know how to do all those things.

“Oh my God, Gary, Gary Wright? Is that you?” We both turned as Janet appeared, her eyes wide and hands poised for clapping. “I can’t believe you’re standing here in my book store after all these years!”

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