Page 58 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
“Is that what you think of me?” He laughs, tugging at my hand to lead me back to the room full of books.
“I think about you a lot.” I smile, trying to regain my composure. “You have to be more specific.”
“I’m not a vampire,” he says. “My father was a demon; my mother was a witch. I only inherited her gifts.”
I lift a brow. “So… no horn, no tail?”
“Sorry, no. Is that a disappointment?”
“Not really.” I run a finger over the spines of the books, glancing curiously at the titles. I recognize some of them, and others may not be from my world at all.Twelve Ways to Charm Your Husbandstands out as a new one. “It’s curiosity. I’ve never known a demon… intimately.”
I pick up the book, letting out a chuckle. It’s from the 60’s, if I had to guess, and the imagery is toofunkyfor my liking. I flip open to a random page and snort. There’s an illustration of a witch using a lava lamp as a crystal ball. Very innovative.
“You don’t know me intimately,” he says. “Not yet.”
“Hm?” I look up from the book. “I don’t know about that. Our dance felt intimate.”
He inhales sharply, his eyes darkening. “It was.” He reaches to take the book from me, his brows lifting as he reads the title. “What could you possibly want with that?”
“Nothing!” I roll my eyes, reaching for the book. “I think it’s funny. I would never charm anyone—and I can’t!”
He clicks his tongue, placing the book back on the shelf. “You don’t have to charm me, Tobey. I’m already here.”
“Stop it!” I mean to sound severe, but instead, carefree laughter falls from my lips, spilling into the emptystore around us.
Then, he’s laughing, too, our hands clasped together as he pulls me closer.
“What do you make of the store?” he asks.
“I love it. Easily your best date location so far. And I think I saw…” I wander through the room, but not without him, tugging at his hand to pull him along. In an instant, I spot the title, plucking it from the shelf. “Pride and Prejudice.”
“Of course,” he says. “It’s a classic. That’s what this place is all about.”
“I didn’t know all witches were as interested in the classics as you.”
“They aren’t, but…” He shrugs. “I decide what goes on the shelves, and I like this edition.”
“You said your mother owned the store?”
“She did. I’ve been running it for the past few months.” He looks around. “It closed after her passing, and I didn’t have it in me to reopen until recently. I hope I’m doing it justice, but there is no way of knowing.”
Without permission, my expression melts, and I look at him with gentleness he doesn’t deserve.
“Going to school and running a business at the same time must be hard,” I say.
“It is. But it’s not as if this place is very busy…”
“It would be busier if you didn’t have to focus on school.” I hold the book to my chest. “I want to buy this.”
“It’s your favorite book. You already own it.”
“Yes, but I don’t ownthisversion. It’s vintage, and you said it’s a good edition. You wouldn’t lie about that, would you?”
“I wouldn’t. I’m far too professional.” He smiles wryly. “I would like you to have something to remember me by, and books create the best memories.”
“Then it’s settled—and I’m paying for it. I insist.”
“And I insist upon giving you the friends and family discount.” He lets go of my hand, moving behind the counter.
