Page 69 of Battle of the Bookstores

“So, uh…was it Xander who called my store a bleak existential wasteland?” she says, and I go rigid. In a softer voice, she adds, “And Eddie told me you said there’s not enough caffeine in the entire coffee shop to keep my customers awake.”

My heart sinks; yes, I said those things. No wonder she was so prickly toward me.

“I’ve given you grief about not understanding romance, but—” I swallow. “I’ve done the same to you. I’m really sorry. I was wrong. About your books. And about you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she says. There’s silence again, like we’re both digesting this.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends?” Josie asks, after a bit. “If we’d given each other a chance before Xander pitted us against each other?”

I think about that. We became friends easily online, but in real life, I’d already judged her for being snooty and unapproachable.

If I hadn’t? Maybe I could’ve gotten to know this side of her a long time ago.

“I think so,” I say finally.

She exhales, and I catch a slight whiff of that minty toothpaste I’m dying to taste.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do if—if you don’t win?” The sadness in her voice settles in the empty space between us. Again, guilt niggles at me; I have another option, even though I don’t really want it.

“Yeah, I…” I lick my lips. “A friend of mine is opening a romance bookstore in Provincetown, and they’re trying to get me to join.”

“Oh.” The word is a surprised puff of air. “And will you?”

“Maybe. If it comes to that, which I hope it won’t.” I clear my throat, uncomfortable at the thought. “What about you?”

There’s a rustling noise as she shifts her weight. More of her hair brushes against me—my neck and shoulder—and I lift my finger and stroke it. Gently enough that I hope she doesn’t notice.

“I don’t have anything else,” she says in an almost whisper.

“But you could find something.” I believe that without a doubt. “Any bookstore would be lucky to have you.”

My eyes are adjusting to the dark, and I can make out the shape of her now as I look over. She’s lying on her side, facing me, the covers dipping at the curve in her waist. I’m still touching the lock of her hair, and if she can see me as well as I can see her, she knows it. But she doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe,” she says. “If it comes to that—which I hope it won’t.”

She’s repeating my words back to me, and I chuckle softly. “Yeah.”

“So, um…” She sighs. “Are we going to be enemies again when we get home? What was it you said—go back to destroying each other’s prospects for the future?”

I huff out a mirthless laugh. “Well, you’re beating me, so…”

“No, Xander said you’re slightly ahead.”

Startled, I turn. “He told meyouare slightly ahead.”

I feel the bed shift as she rolls onto her back. It moves her hair away from me, and I immediately miss it. “That little sneak—I knew he was trying to manipulate us, but this is…”

“Low,” I say. “Even for Xander.”

Josie groans, lifting her hands and slapping them against the bed in frustration. “I wish we could turn the tables on him.”

“Me too, but how? Xander holds all the power here.”

I hate feeling like a puppet in his stupid game. But that’s exactly what we are.

Josie doesn’t speak again, and soon my eyes drift shut.

“Ryan?” Josie says.

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