Page 4 of One Happy Summer

She grabs a book off the shelf. “Like this one. Is it any good?”

I look down at the cover. “Oh, yeah, that one is . . . great.The Rule Bookby Sarah Adams. Everyone is reading it.”

She cocks her head to the side, the corner of her mouth moving up slightly. “What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s a rule book of sorts. There are these rules.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“It really is.”

She takes it from me and stacks it on top of the Sunny Palmer book. “Any others?”

“Uh, sure,” I say as I reach out and grab another book off the shelf. “This one right here is a breakout sensation.” I hold it out toward her, the wordsbreakout sensationin bold at the top.

She looks down at it. “The Love Hypothesis?”

“Yes. It’s by—” I pause to search the cover. “Ali Hazelwood. It’s aNew York Timesbestseller.” I point to the gold sticker with the white lettering stuck to the front of the paperback. Why do they put stickers on paperbacks? I’m pretty sure everyone hates it.

“Sounds interesting. What’s it about?”

I look down at the illustrated drawing of a man and a woman kissing on the cover and then awkwardly back at her. “It’s definitely a page turner. It’s about people who . . . hypothesize about love.”

She smiles now, lovely, bright-white teeth on display. “Sounds like a good one.”

“Oh, it is,” I say.

“You haven’t read any of them, have you?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

She giggles at that and my stomach does a weird dipping thing, a feeling I haven’t had in forever. It’s almost foreign.

A little voice in my head, one that has been quiet for a long time, nudges me to ask her out, or at the very least ask for her number. It’s been a while since I’ve had that thought. This time is unfounded, because even though she looks familiar, I can’t place how I know her. Plus, she might not even be single, or even be interested. Not to mention, I’m in no place to date. Not with the back-to-square-one turn my life has taken.

“Well, I’ll take them. All three.” She holds out a hand, and I give her the third book, which she stacks on top of the others.

“Excellent choices,” I say.

We stand there again, and I rack my brain, still trying to figure out where I could possibly know her from. Was it here on the island? During college? If she’d take off the sunglasses, that might help—they’re keeping me from getting a good look. All I’m basing this off is a perfect button nose and full lips in a lovely shade of pink. Why can’t I figure this out?

“Can I . . . buy them?” the woman asks, snapping me out of what might have been a short trance. Good hell, was I staring at her lips? I think I was.

“Right,” I say, berating myself for acting like a fool. I feel disarmed around her. It’s a strange feeling.

She follows me to the front of the store, and once I’m behind the register, she hands me the books. I ring them up while she peruses the odds and ends my mom has for sale on the front counter—small notebooks, a variety of pens, and some gimmicky books of questions.

She hands me cash from a black cross-body bag once I tell her the total. I’d hoped for a credit card so I could see a name to help jog my memory, but no such luck. I guess I could just ask her, but it feels like I’ve missed the timing on that. I bag up the books and hand them to her.

“Thanks for the help,” she says as she takes them.

“You’re welcome. You’ll have to let me know if you enjoyed the books.”

“Rules and hypotheses—how can I not?” She gives me a smile.

“Have we . . . met before?” I finally ask. It’s taken me too long to ask, but I’ve already made a fool of myself—might as well run with it.

She shakes her head. “No,” she says definitively.

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