Page 96 of The Biting Bargain

"I mean, it is warm, even for September, don’t you think? People are still out swimming in the ocean and everything, so I was wondering why you were wearing a hat. A woolen hat, at that. Especially since it's not particularly chilly in here. And so I thought, maybe one explanation might be that you might have caught a cold. I'm sorry, I’m rambling…"

"You were wondering about my hat?" Both my eyebrows raise so high I’m sure they must be disappearing under the thick red wool.

No, he hasn’t noticed. He can’t have.

And… am I imagining things or is he blushing?

"I apologize," he hurries to say. "I didn’t mean it to sound condescending or anything. You have to believe me. And now that I think about it, it’s probably a fashion statement, right? And I have no clue about fashion, like, at all, and I just totally made an ass of myself." He scratches his neck. "I’m sorry. I probably should stop talking now."

"It's alright." I bite my lip and slide the book into a paper bag, my face flooding with treacherous heat and my fingers feeling more clammy than ever before.

„That’ll be 17, 50," I say with the most genuine service smile I can muster.

"Of course." He pulls out his wallet. He always wears jeans, I notice. And sneakers. And a suit jacket. And a messenger bag. He looks like one of those young, industrious start-up bosses. Not that I’ve ever seen one around here — this place is literally in the middle of nowhere — but they look like that in movies I guess.

He swipes his card through the scanner and the computer does its job, loading and spinning a little circle round and round on my display. It does that for quite a while. Of course, now of all times, the POS system has to plunge into slow motion.

"Is it, then?" Captain Crasher asks into the awkward silence.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it a fashion statement?" He smiles a wry smile. "The hat."

"More or less," I press out.

I have no clue about fashion, either. My requirements for clothing is covering myself up and at the same time deflecting from my person as much as possible. But he has a point, it is way too warm for September, and wearing a red woolen hat indoors is like wearing a glowing target around my neck. I should have considered that.

I slide him the bag across the counter.

"Is it any good?" he asks, taking it with his large hand.

"I’m sorry?" I blink, because that wry smile of his does something with my tummy that feels like I’m about to do a flip-flop.

"The book." More smile. He should really watch out where he is aiming with that. Especially when he has a girlfriend.

This thought shakes me out of my stupor and I straighten myself. Stop acting so weird. He has a girlfriend.

"You should know better than me," I say, taking half a step back from the counter. "You bought half of the series."

"But I'd be interested in your professional opinion," Captain Crasher says.

Someone clears their throat somewhere from farther back in the store. My Incubus-cousin is now standing behind the table with children's books, throwing me a pointed look over the cardboard display of a crosseyed donkey advertising the alphabet.

"My professional opinion," I repeat, my eyes flicking back to Captain Crasher.

"Have you read it?" he asks.

Now I can’t stop the heat from rising up to my hairline.

Have I read it? Only about twenty-seven times. And that's with each of the thirteen volumes. And that means a hell of a lot incredibly steamy smut scenes. The kind that has you clutch your pearls and squeeze your legs together.

"I really can’t tell," I say, starting to fumble with the calendar next to the register. Why is he asking me? Why not looking up customer reviews somewhere online or something? And why is it so damn hot in here all of a sudden?

His smile sinks and I am almost sorry for my harsh response. But then again, he has a girlfriend, doesn’t he? Most likely. I think. So he is very welcome to test his flirting skills and heat inducing smile elsewhere, thank you very much.

"Have a pleasant day." I turn my service smile up another notch, willing him to leave before… No idea really, but I need this conversation to stop. It won’t lead anywhere anyway, so best to spare us both further embarrassment.

"Until next time then." Captain Crasher shoots me another questioning glance, half raising one hand before he finally leaves, taking his damn smile along with him.

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