Page 5 of The Cinnamon Bun Book Store
When he had landed in Dream Harbor a few years ago, Noah had lived on his boat for a while until he’d found a row of old fishermen shacks on a forgotten stretch of beach, sure that if someone fixed them up, they’d do great as short-term rental properties. He’d started doing just that to one of them, as a little side project, about a year ago, half expecting someone to show up and tell him he couldn’t. But so far no one ever had.
So now he secretly camped out here sometimes. He still stayed in the apartment above Mac’s bar most of the time, and as far as the nosy townsfolk knew that apartment was his home. Someday he’d get around to telling Mayor Kelly about his ideas and see about buying these old shacks. Maybe.
Maybe it was a stupid idea. He’d had no shortage of those in his life.
Or maybe he’d get arrested for squatting. He wasn’t really sure. But for now, he liked it here. He opened the door to the little house and stepped into the cool interior. The sea breeze that came in through the front windows kept the house comfortable even on hot days like today. They’d need better insulation if anyone wanted to stay through the winter but Noah had already patched up the roof and laid new flooring. Luckily, he’d followed his grandfather around a lot as a kid and asked endless questions. All his grandpa’s tricks and tips had finally come in handy.
The whole house was maybe 400 square feet if he was being generous, but it fit a kitchenette, a queen-size bed –and a bathroom with plumbing that was older than him and questionable, at best.
Noah tossed his new book on the bed and pulled a cold beer out of the cooler he kept in the kitchenette. Electricity was the other thing, besides the plumbing, that he hadn’t been able to fix on his own, so he was still roughing it, but it was so peaceful here he didn’t mind. The sound of crashing waves filled the house and Noah knew he’d be asleep before he even cracked open his book.
He stretched out on the mattress he’d been using as a bed and took a sip of his drink, letting his thoughts wander back to Hazel. What would she think about this house and his ideas? Would she think he was ridiculous? He didn’t have time to wonder about it for long before he drifted off to sleep and dreamt about capturing a certain bookseller and whisking her away on his boat.
ChapterThree
Another book was crooked. And backwards. And Hazel was refusing to look at it. She didn’t care. It was just a poorly shelved book that some customer had haphazardly put back on the shelf. It happened all the time.
Alex would handle it later when they came in for their shift. Hazel had more important things to do, like work on next month’s book order and schedule September’s author events. She was the operations manager after all. She could leave the book straightening to Alex or Lyndsay or the new hire who came in on Sundays or literally anyone else but her.
Damn it. She was looking at it again.
It had been two days since the last crooked book incident and Hazel had officially decided it was a weird occurrence that definitely wasn’t about her and definitely wasn’t going to happen again. And now look. Another one.
Someone was messing with her.
An image of Noah’s excited face when he’d thought maybe it was a clue flashed in her mind. She’d shut that down quickly. Too quickly. His handsome face had fallen in disappointment when she’d dismissed the idea.
She’d felt bad about it, but clues, really? That was absurd. And just because she’d gotten in her own head about her stuck-ness and then Noah had flittered in with all his confusing handsome-ness, did not mean there were suddenly secret messages in her books. Because that would be crazy.
Hazel tapped her fingers on the counter. Another slow day. Did people not read in the summer? She straightened the already straight bookmarks and sipped her tea.
Damn it.
Hazel marched over to the Romance section to fix the book and possibly give it a piece of her mind because she was that kind of crazy lady today. She pulled it out and found a corner turned down, just like in the other book. She couldn’t just put it back on the shelf if it was highlighted, too. She couldn’t sell a defaced book.
She had to check.
The blueberries popped tart and bright in her mouth. They tasted like summer and new beginnings.
Hazel was instantly transported back to picking blueberries as a kid, the sweet burst of fruit on her tongue, scanning the bushes for the ripe ones, and the ice cream her dad would buy her on the way home. She closed her eyes and leaned against the shelf. When was the last time she’d gone blueberry picking?
‘Napping on the job?’
Hazel’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Annie’s teasing voice. She had to stop getting caught doing weird things in the Romance section. She shoved the offending book back on the shelf and turned to greet her friends.
‘No, of course not.’
‘We brought you lunch,’ Annie said, dropping into her favorite comfy chair by the window.
‘And an iced tea.’ Jeanie held out the drink and Hazel took it, happy for the distraction.
‘Thanks.’
‘Everything all right?’ Annie asked. Her blonde ponytail slipped over her shoulder as she tipped her head, studying Hazel. They’d been friends since Hazel’s family moved here in the ninth grade and Annie knew her a little too well.
‘Yep. Fine.’ Hazel grabbed the other half of Annie’s sandwich and sat across from her. She slipped her feet out of her shoes and tucked them underneath her. Normally she would have insisted they eat in the backroom but the store was empty enough that it didn’t seem to matter.
‘You sure? You look kinda strange.’
