Page 28 of Till Orc Do Us Part
I curse under my breath and grab the feather duster.
If I’m going to spiral, I might as well be productive.
I start with the front display table. The spring poetry selections are overdue for a refresh anyway. I rearrange stacks of slim volumes, tucking sprigs of dried lavender between them.
Next, the fiction shelves. I pull every book that hasn’t moved in six months. The pile grows. The floorboards creak beneath me.
By the time the sun starts dipping low, the store looks like a hurricane hit it.
And still my mind circles back to that book.
To him.
I yank open the back storage closet and attack the mess inside like a woman possessed. Boxes shift. Dust clouds the air. I mutter curses that would make Liara proud.
Half an hour later, I’m on my knees beneath a stack of unsorted donations when the shop bell jingles.
“Closed!” I call automatically, wiping sweat from my brow.
A familiar voice floats back. “Not for me, I hope.”
Liara.
Thank gods.
“Back here,” I say, standing and brushing dust from my jeans.
She pokes her head into the closet, eyes sparkling. “Well, aren’t you a vision of rage cleaning.”
“Shut up.”
She grins. “What happened?”
I hesitate.
Then I sigh and lead her to the counter. I pull the poetry book from the shelf.
Her eyes widen. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“No note?”
“None.”
She whistles low. “Damn. The man knows how to play.”
“It’s not a game,” I snap, though my voice lacks heat.
She arches a brow. “Isn’t it?”
I slump onto the stool behind the counter. “I don’t know what the hell it is.”
Liara studies me a moment. “You scared?”
I open my mouth to deny it. Then close it.
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “Because this… means he’s paying attention.”
