“That old man is so weird about the Maxwells,” Becky said under her breath.
I gave her a reproachful look and changed the subject. “So aside from the pancake mishap, how was your date last night?” I asked.
“A lot of fun actually. There’s something to be said about going out with an older man.” Her eyes glazed over as memories of the previous evening flashed before her.
“Finally met someone who could teach you a thing or two?”
She gave me a coy smile. “Let’s just say experience is the best teacher. You should really get back out there and have some fun.”
“Don’t start with me about dating,” I huffed.
I turned down the American Poets aisle and started skimming the shelves.
“And why not? When was the last time you went on a date? You’re never going to find someone hiding behind your camera,” Becky pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just focused on my work right now. And besides, it’s not like I’ve met anyone who lights a fire in me recently.”
“Lights a fire in you?” Becky laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, just get some coffee with someone, anyone. You need to stop being so picky.”
“I’m picky for a reason. You of all people know how bad things got with Nick.”
“I still can’t believe he was into all that voodoo magic stuff,” Becky said, looking at me apologetically.
Finally I reached the W’s section and started flipping through the books.
I could feel Becky’s eyes watching me carefully. “When I find someone worthwhile, then I’ll give it a chance,” I said to placate her.
“Whatever you say.” Becky didn’t sound convinced.
Taking one of the Walt Whitman collections off the shelf I skimmed through the cream colored pages. Becky’s phone went off and she pulled it out of her bag.
“Shit, I totally forgot. Aaron’s coming into town and I’m supposed to meet him at my place,” Becky explained. She looked down at her watch. “Twenty minutes ago! Sorry, Violet, I’ve gotta run.” Becky exited the store as briskly as she could without breaking into a run.
“See ya later. Tell Aaron I say hi!” I called after her.
Becky waved her hand in acknowledgment and answered the phone.
Aaron was Becky’s older brother. He came down from San Francisco every summer to visit and I’d grown close to him over the last couple of years. He was a good friend and always there to give you an honest male opinion whether you liked it or not.
I put the book back on the shelf and pulled another one down to look through.
“Violet?” a man’s voice asked behind me in a soft, cautious tone.
Turning to see who had said my name I saw a man sitting in a plump leather chair with a book in his lap. His light blue button up shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and his well-muscled legs revealed him to be a tall man even though he was sitting. His hair was dark and wavy, parted to one side and styled like a suave Cary Grant. His warm eyes reminded me of melted dark chocolate as they stared into mine. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen outside of a magazine.
Taken off guard, I mumbled, “Err… hi. How do you know my name?”
He rose from the chair and walked toward me. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his fair skin. He’s not from around here, I thought. Even if you used sunscreen every day, you’d still have a golden tint to your skin.
“I overheard you and your friend talking. She said your name as she was leaving. I’m Robert.” He extended his hand to shake mine.
I placed my hand in his and he gave it a firm grip. His touch was soft and warm. The feel of his skin sent chills up my arm, the closeness of him heightening all my senses.
This is ridiculous, I thought. I don’t even know this man and I feel like I’m going to start hyperventilating any minute.
“Oh, well can I help you with something?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.
“Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you? “He quoted, and then smiled a crooked smile that I assumed undid most women.
“You know Walt Whitman?” I gave him a dubious look. Most people knew of the poet, but few could quote any of his work from memory.
“Who doesn’t,” he said with a shrug. “I noticed you were holding a compilation of his works.” He grinned, amused by my expression, and pointed to the book in my hand.
“Oh yeah. I’m trying to find a good collection of his work.” Handsome and smart, I thought, eying him.
“Might I suggest you get this one?” He reached around me, placing his body inches from mine. I inhaled at the closeness and caught the sweet smell of his cologne mixed with the cool ocean air. I smiled in spite of myself as he pulled away with a leather-bound book in hand.
I reached for the book, turning it over. I glanced up at him and his gaze caught mine. His eyes were warm and curious. The world seemed to slow around us and for the briefest moment I felt like I already knew him. I opened my mouth to thank him when his phone went off, startling us both. He cleared his throat and stepped away.
“I’m sorry, will you excuse me a moment?” he asked, looking apologetic.
“Sure, no problem.” I waved him away and turned back to the shelf behind me, heart still pounding in my chest.
He walked away and answered his cell. “This better be important.”
He stopped just out of earshot but I could still see him with his back turned toward me.
I looked between him and the book he had picked out for me. I didn’t remember seeing this particular volume on the shelf. I ran my fingers across the worn cover and its gold lettering. It felt smooth under my fingers and the corners had been worn down to a dull curve. I flipped the pages open and let them fan across my thumb. I took a deep breath and could almost smell the fresh ink on the pages mingled with a century of dust.
Turning the book over, I wondering how such an old, unique book could end up crammed on the shelves next to the ordinary mass-market paperbacks.
I looked over my shoulder to see if Robert was still close by and saw him a few aisles down, idly pulling books off the shelf and putting them back without looking at them. His eyes caught mine for a split second and he cocked his head like he was trying to decipher a code hidden in my features. I smiled and looked away as he continued his conversation.
Putting the book that I’d taken down back on the shelf I held on to the one Robert suggested. I walked a few aisles down to the fiction section to see if there was anything else I wanted while I was there. I examined a book with an interesting-looking cover and started reading the back. It looked like a promising murder-mystery, so I stuck it under my arm alongside the leather-bound book.
“Sorry about that,” Robert said, his voice deep and soft.
I turned around to see him leaning against one of the bookshelves across from me.
Why was he back? What did he want from me? A warning bell went off in the back of my mind. Being friendly to a stranger was one thing, but seeking them out was a little odd.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said and waved my hand at him. “I decided to go for the book you suggested.” I tapped the leather cover under my arm.
“Good, you won’t regret it,” he said with a devilish smirk.
I regarded him with careful consideration. “So, do you spend a lot of time loitering around bookshops?” I wasn’t sure why he was still standing there. He didn’t seem to be interested in any of the paperbacks lining the shelves. In fact his interest seemed to lie with me for some reason.