“I don’t want him.”
“Why not? He’s gorgeous. And no ring.”
“I don’t know.” Cassie glances at the guy in scrubs, who is flipping through a dog-eared copy of a graphic novel. “He’s too old.”
“He’s too old?” Zoe’s dark red lips form an O. “How is he too old? He’s mid-thirties, at the latest.”
Cassie turned twenty-six a couple of months ago. “Right. He’s like ten years older than me.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s perfect. Men mature later than women, so you have to date men ten years older.”
Cassie’s not sure she agrees. She can hardly manage men her own age, much less than older men.
Zoe narrows her eyes. “When’s the last time you’ve been on a date, Cassie?”
Cassie quickly makes herself busy organizing the bookmarks on the counter. Zoe made them and they bring in a little bit of revenue to supplement what they earn on books. Zoe is really talented—she could have been an artist if she wanted. “I’m not sure.”
“So… what? You’re not interested in men anymore?”
“I’m just… busy.”
That is the truth. It is taking every ounce of Cassie’s energy and time to keep Bookland from closing its doors. She has been posting flyers all around the neighborhood, negotiating cheap advertising, and keeping the store open as many hours as she can stomach. She doesn’t have time for dating. Not now. Maybe someday.
It doesn’t help that all of the dates she’s been on in the last several years have been a disappointment. And her last relationship was so unsatisfying, she couldn’t wait to be single again.
Cassie fully expects Zoe to keep hassling her about her social life. But instead, Zoe sucks in a breath and nudges her hard. “Here comes HD. Look pretty.”
Sure enough, the guy in scrubs is approaching the desk. Now that Cassie sees him close up, it’s clear he’s every bit the Hot Doctor. His blue eyes are so vivid and sexy that her resolve to keep out of the dating market wavers slightly. But only slightly.
Usually a guy like that would make a beeline for Zoe, but instead, he approaches Cassie. He looks her in the eyes and offers an endearingly crooked grin. “Hi,” he says.
She had irrationally hoped that when he spoke to her, he would have awful coffee breath or rotted yellow teeth or something that would make him less appealing, but no. He’s got perfect, white teeth and smells like a combination of aftershave and the outdoors.
Zoe nudges her again. “Hi,” Cassie says.
She waits for him to say the words every other guy in scrubs says when they come into Bookland. Can you help me find [fill in name of medical text]?
But he doesn’t say that. A crease forms between his eyebrows and he says, “I’m looking for a copy of Wuthering Heights.”
If Cassie had been drinking a beverage, she would have spit it out dramatically. This extremely attractive man in green scrubs wants a copy of the greatest love story of all time? “Wuthering Heights?”
He nods. “Is that something you have?”
“Of course.” And now her heart is racing in her chest. Not because this will be her first sale of the afternoon, but because a man who loves that book could be worth opening up her social calendar for. “Follow me, please.”
She steps out from behind the desk, and he diligently follows her to the back of the store. She leads him to the four narrow shelves marked “Classics.” The books are coated in a fine layer of dust because nobody ever peruses this section, aside from the occasional teenager on a school assignment. The “Classics” sign is in Grandpa Marv’s handwriting—Bea never took down any of the signs her late husband wrote, even as the writing became faded. And now that both of them are gone, Cassie won’t touch them, even though the paper is starting to disintegrate.