Page 6 of Novel Problems

I took my plate and coffee mug back to the kitchen, where I thanked Romina, a middle-aged woman with an olive complexion and shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair who was scrubbing the stove furiously and frowning, and Shane, the gangly nineteen-year-old kitchen assistant, for the meal, and went to help George with the influx of new customers.

“Is everything okay with Romina?” I asked George as I reached into the display case to pull out a cookie.

“No,” George said. Concerned, I glanced over to find her grinning. “She slightly overcooked the muffins this morning.”

I laughed. “But they look incredible.” The raspberry, white chocolate and macadamia muffins had been a big hit with customers.

“They are incredible. I had to sample one just to convince her not to throw out the entire tray, and I canvouch for it.” George’s eyes twinkled as she shook her head. “The sacrifices I have to make for this place.”

“Well, if it happens again tomorrow, I’m happy to take one for the team and volunteer up my muffin-eating skills.”God, why did that sound kind of dirty?

George laughed. “Much appreciated. But yes, Romina doesn’t take cooking failures well, so Shane and I have been giving her a wide berth all day. Sorry, I should have mentioned it.”

By late afternoon, the steady stream of customers had reduced to a trickle. In between serving the stragglers, George spent a few minutes walking me through the ordering and payment system, which, thankfully, was fairly intuitive.

By the time she’d finished, it was five p.m., and the café was officially closed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, so don’t worry if you forget it all and need me to show you again.” A hint of pink flushed her cheeks, and for the first time, she looked unsure of herself. “Sorry, I just realized I’m jumping the gun. You did a great job today. I’d love to have you on board, but are you interested in joining us?”

Say no, Hannah. N. O. Two letters. One syllable. It’s not that hard.

But my resolve weakened at the hopeful, golden retriever-like expression on George’s face.

“Yes, that would be great!” I said quickly, and for a few seconds, George’s relieved smile made everything worth it. And then the reality of my situation flooded back.What the actual fuck, Hannah?

“Fantastic! If you don’t mind sharing your email address, I can send through the employment contract and direct deposit form to fill out. Just let meknow what days and hours you want to work, and I’ll put you on the schedule. If you’re okay to stay until six p.m., we could finish closing up, and then I can give you a quick tour of the book section?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling despite how frustrated I was with myself right now. I’d been itching to explore the aisles of books all day. I certainly wasn’t going to object to receiving a personal tour from George.

CHAPTER FOUR

HANNAH

Forty minutes later, we strolled down the first aisle of books. When we reached the fantasy section, I scanned the shelves, looking for my books. Warmth filled my body as I spotted them. Two copies of each, sitting neatly together. I smiled and suddenly sensed George’s eyes on me.

“Do you like reading?” George asked.

“I love it.” Heat rushed to my face as the words came out louder than I intended.

George shot me a grin, clearly picking up on my enthusiasm. “That’s great! We often get asked for recommendations, so that’ll be really helpful. What are your favorite genres?”

“Mainly fantasy, romance, crime, thrillers, upmarket and literary fiction,” I replied, hoping my reading preferences met with George’s approval.

The grin on George’s face widened, showcasing her dimple.God, that dimple is cute.“That’s awesome. Nice and varied. Ben only reads sci-fi, but between the three of us, we should have most basescovered.”

“What about you?” I asked, genuinely interested in George’s reading habits. She seemed so down to earth. I could imagine her reading something practical, like gardening books or perhaps a biography of Jimmy Carter.

George retrieved a Neil Gaiman book that was placed out of order on the shelves and put it back in alphabetical order, her arm nearly brushing against me in the process. “Yeah, I love reading too. I read pretty widely, but non-fiction—science, history, biographies, that sort of thing—and fantasy are by far my favorite genres.”

I smiled, pleased that I’d guessed George’s predilection for non-fiction and also pleasantly surprised that fantasy was also a favorite.I wonder if she’s read my books.My stomach fluttered at the thought.Oh god, what if she hates them?

“What do you like most about fantasy?” I asked, eager to keep our conversation going before I fell into a black hole of overthinking George’s possible views on my books.

George furrowed her brow and paused. “Hmmm. Interesting question. I like the escapism element—being able to step into a completely different world. But I also like the freedom fantasy gives authors to explore serious issues without having to deal with the baggage and preconceived ideas that readers would have if the novel was set in the real world, if that makes sense.”

“That makes complete sense,” I replied, impressed by George’s thoughtful response, which I thoroughly agreed with.

She broke into a smile, that hint of a dimple showing again. “Oh, and magic is pretty cool too.”

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