Page 160 of Will Bark for Pizza
“Not from the cabin.”
“So, I’ll ride with you.”
“I’m hardly home.”
“Because of some bookstore? What’sthatabout?”
“If you’re staying with me for a week, I’m putting you to work.”
“I’m a terrible laborer,” she said.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Seriously, Beck. Tell me about the bookstore. Nana said you bought a million-dollar commercial building.”
I emptied my iced tea, pushing up from my chair.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
I left a twenty on the table and walked away, wondering what special hell I was in for with my sister in town. I loved her to death, but her timing couldn’t be worse. The last thing I wanted Kira to think was that I only wanted her for sex. And with Madeline attached to me at the hip for the next week, I couldn’t fathom getting Kira alone long enough to talk about what today meant.
But my sister left to her own devices was definitely the bigger risk.
FIFTY
KIRA
I refreshedthe link for the bookshelf shipping information, hoping for an update. Despite the delays I’d already been notified about, the two dozen shelves I ordered were supposed to be here today. Yet I hadn’t received a confirmation text from the shipping company that they were on their way.
“No update?” I grumbled.
Husker perked his head from the dog bed I tucked behind the front counter. Most days, I left him at the farm due to the excessive number of book stacks littered around the store. I could just see him getting excited and knocking them over with an enthusiastic butt wiggle. Not only would it create more work, but I didn’t want him to get buried underneath them.
Today however, the store was quiet. I gave everyone the morning off in anticipation of a late night of bookshelf assembling, promising to update them the minute I had one.
When things were quiet, Husker tended to nap.
I searched the order confirmation email for a phone number. I was not in the mood to have a chat with a robot.
Before I could locate one, the bells jingled overhead.
I almost forgot Dad rehung them last night while the rest of us were sorting the remaining books intokeepanddonatepiles. I looked up, expecting to see one of the book club members or a family member. But I didn’t recognize the tall, slender woman with wavy chestnut hair who walked in.
“I’m sorry, we’re not open.”
“I can see that,” she said, extending a smile as she scanned the mess.
“We’re re-opening next week.”
“I’m not here to buy a book.”
My patience was running a little thin, on account of the bookshelf fiasco and a lack of sleep from a late night of writing. “Is there something else I can help you with?”
“I just wanted to meet you.”
Okay, this was starting to feel uncomfortable.
