Page 2 of Touch My Shelves

After the meeting, I join Kimberly and Shy for drinks at Brewster’s. I always have a fun time with them and tonight is no different. We are well into our second glass of whatever fruity concoction Shy ordered us when Kimberly asks, “Did you notice Adan looking our way at the meeting?”

Both sets of eyes turn to me. Yes, I noticed, but it wasn’t what they think. Adan Murphy wouldn’t give me a second glance unless it was to confirm that the strange woman does indeed have purple hair. To further our differences, he was wearing a suit that screamed expensive and custom-tailored. In contrast, I’m wearing a vintage-style day dress that would have looked perfect on Mrs. Brady fromThe Brady Bunch. My ensemble is compliments of my best friend, Naudi, who just happens to be an incredible fashion designer.

“I did. I noticed who he was looking at too, and it wasn’t me or you, Kimberly,” Shy observes.

I point to my chest. “Me? You think Adan Murphy was looking at me?” That’s laughable, so I do. Laugh, that is. Out loud. This town has love on the brain. They want everyone matched, but it’s not gonna be me. I’ve turned down every invitation from the opposite sex, much to Shy and Kimberly’s sorrow. I had enough of overly ambitious suitors back home.

Shyanne leans closer. “Why do you find that funny? I’m telling you, the man seemed interested in you. We shouldn’t have run out like we did. We should have stuck around and given him time to make a move.”

I brush them off and take a strong pull on my drink. “Adan Murphy is not interested in me. You two are seeing things. If he was looking our way, it was probably at someone behind us.”

Kimberly frowns and raises an annoyed brow. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be looking at you?”

I can’t believe I have to point out the obvious. “Come on, just look at him. He wears a suit that probably costs more than my car. He’s dignified and refined. I’m sure he goes for women much different from me.”

I’m not putting myself down, just stating the facts. I could never date a man that put more thought and effort into dressing than I do.

Shy raises her hand and gestures to the waitress for another round. “Umm, Poppy, I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but your car is old and falling apart, so that’s not saying much.”

My mouth drops. She did not just diss JuneBug. I bought her myself, used of course, when I was sixteen. Her metallic purple color is gorgeous, thanks to a paint job one of my brothers did for me. The color has faded and some of the gauges don’t work anymore, but when I moved here I knew I’d need a car to get around and JuneBug gets me everywhere I need to go.

We won’t talk about the harrowing trip from my home in Alabama to Faire Island. Or how many garages I had to spend time in en route. Or how much money I spent on repairs. I love JuneBug and I couldn’t put her out to pasture like my dad wanted me to do. And by pasture I mean exactly that—a pasture on my family’s farm in Owlette, Alabama to be precise, where all old farm machinery or vehicles go to die. We call it “the bone yard.”

Kimberly jumps in. “I agree he does wear a suit well, but that doesn’t mean he can’t find you attractive and someone he’d like to date. I think you two would hit it off.”

My eyes bug out as I look at her like she’s crazy and shake my head. “No. Dating is the last thing on my mind. I am not one of the Faire Island brides. That’s not why I came here,” I kindly point out.

Since the world found out there’s a woman shortage in town, hopeful brides have been swooping in on the hunt for their grooms. A few stuck, but most flew right back out when no hands were offered.

Kimberly goes in for a final hurrah. “I know, but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Just have an open mind, you know, if he should stop by the bookstore someday and ask you out.”

I sigh heavily, fully aware they won’t give up. “My door always has an open sign between nine to five,” I concede, which is as much as I’m willing to do. These two have been trying to fix me up since I got here.

It’s not that I’m against relationships…for other people, just not for me. Yet. Maybe never. Most all the women I’ve met on Faire Island are either happily married, engaged, or dating seriously. Just like back home.

I know if I’d stayed in Alabama, I would be expected to marry and start producing a houseful of kids. I shudder at the thought. I’m not ready for that. Someday, sure. With the right guy. In some ways, theOwlette Gazettegoing out of business gave me the push I needed.

After college, Naudi and I had plans of moving to New York. She was going to establish herself in the fashion world, and I was going to write the next bestseller. That’s what we told ourselves, but when the time came, I chose to move back home and work for the local paper. And that bestseller? Ten years later and it still isn’t finished.

I swallow the last of my second drink as Kimberly passes her phone around to show us the latest adorable picture of her baby. I’m feeling a bit fuzzy and that must be why I don’t notice Kimberly ordering another round and why I don’t object.

By the time we stand to leave, I wobble, my head spins, and I wish I’d stopped after two. Especially when I had no idea what was in them. After hugs, assurances that I can get home by myself, and promises to do it again soon, I leave and hope the night air clears my buzzy head.

I love my new life. I like who I am here. I feel fearless, like I can do anything. I sigh and admit to no one, “I do miss Naudi.”

That’s the one thing that would make my new life perfect. I don’t get to see her very often, but we talk almost every day.

My steps slow and stop in front of my bookstore. I spread my arms wide and lean into the glass to give my baby a hug. Touch My Shelves. A fresh and fun name for a bookstore. Naudi and I came up with the gem one night over a bottle or two of red wine.

I can’t help but smile at the warm, inviting storefront I created smashed against my cheek. Ending our “embrace,” I trail my fingers across the window glass as I move down the sidewalk. I lucked out on getting a corner store with large picture windows on both sides of the central door in the middle. The window displays are incredible. One is decked out with all the dragons, magic, and hobbits a child could ever dream of, and the other window display showcases popular adult books and looks like a room with a cozy, stuffed chair by a roaring fire. A perfect place to snuggle in and read.

I trip and catch myself on the window. Yeah, I had too many drinks.

I stumble again as I head further down the sidewalk toward the side door that leads to my apartment, which is another thing I lucked out on. My own home. I should have moved out of my parents’ house years ago—and I tried—but something always came up and it was easier to stay. It’s not like I was in the housewiththem. I lived in the room over the garage. My brothers helped me fix it up and added plumbing so I could have a bathroom and mini-kitchen.

Just as I round the corner, I run into a brick wall.

“Oomph!” I bounce off and start to fall backwards when hands grasp my arms and I’m propelled forward into said wall. A rapidly beating heart ticks against my cheek and warm, firm muscles tense under my hands.

---