Page 83 of Vows We Never Made
Boning some random girl would be mighty disrespectful and an invitation for Portland to curse me again for the same sin.
Also, no matter what kind of raging asshole she thinks I am, I’m not about to cheat on her. I don’t care if we’re not technically ‘together.’
I’m not disgracing myself and humiliating her and making this harder than it is.
Easier said than done when the only person my cock seems to be interested in is her.
She walks around and perches on the armchair beside the sofa, drawing her legs up under her and wrapping her arms around them.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ethan,” she admits. “Bookstores are in decline across the whole industry. Fewer people are interested in showing up for print, so I’ll have to change something drastic.”
“So do it.”
“The question ishow. Right now, we sell every genre, but I’m thinking we’re going to have to niche down. Really think about the market and what buyers we can appeal to. Who evenvisits bookstores anymore if it’s not for school? What are the demographics in Portland?”
“Market research,” I say idly. “An important aspect of any business.”
“Right. But I don’t have tons of data or endless time for research,” she says, like it’s my problem. “Either way, I’ll figuresomethingout. I’m not throwing this opportunity away. It just feels like a lot right now.”
“You need inspiration.”
“Wow,” she deadpans, pushing up her glasses. “Helpful.”
“What do you want me to say, Pages? You’re a damn brainiac and you breathe books—whywouldn’tyou have this down?” It’s my turn to throw her an incredulous look.
A wild dimple pops in one of her cheeks.
I stare at it too long.
“Easy for you to say,” she says. “You weren’t thrown into this headfirst without a day to prepare.”
“Close enough. I dove into the family business on a whim when it seemed like my last option. Without Gramps connecting me with a few people in the office, I would’ve been lost,” I say. “But I figured you’d find some way to blame me. No good deed ever goes unpunished.”
“Itisyour fault.” Her lips curl, teasing. “You’re the reason why I own a bookstore I don’t know what to do with.”
“Tough break, Pages.” I lean closer on my elbows, not looking away from her face. “What if I said you’ve got this? Because if anyone can turn around a musty-ass store that’s probably been failing for years, it’s the dork who’d dive into the harbor for a chance to meet some big-time author.”
She flushes.
I definitely should feel the victory surge at the sight.
Goddamn.
“But,” I say, leaning back, “only if you rename it something besidesSneed’s Booksfor starters. The name has to go.”
“And here I was thinking you loved it. So much history.”
“The name is only half of it. The vibe sucks, reminds me of a school library. You’ll be busy for sure with that awful place.”
“Why awful? Because it has books?” She tilts her head, silky hair pooling on one shoulder. “Did you forget how to read when you left Portland?”
I hold up my hands.
“You got me. I have a trained monkey who handles my correspondence now. Former lab ape, they gave him a brain implant that lets him rip through emails ten times faster than any human.”
“Such BS.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
“Just being around old books gives me a rash. Paper allergy or something,” I lie.
