Page 40 of Even If the Sky is Falling
BUNKER BUDDIES
CHARISH REID
Bunker Buddies
Shea
“Nick, would you like to have coffee with me sometime? I know this great place near campus that has plenty of seating and some nights they have poetry readings. Of course, you’re not obligated to participate! I only added it because you’re a bookstore man, I mean, a bookstoreowner. Anyway, the coffee is exquisite—they roast their own beans...” Shea Anderson trailed off with a sigh. “Fuuuuck.”
She still stood outside The Page Turner, a bookstore located a few blocks from the University of Chicago, rehearsing her plan of attack. For the last six months, Shea stopped by after teaching just to catch a glimpse at the bookstore owner, Nick Hendrix. Well, more than a glimpse... She actually browsed his collection, pretending to need books she knew he didn’t carry. And when she approached his counter for assistance, a bright smile lit his face and creased the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. So far, Shea had ordered about twenty books just to see that smile.
It was getting out of hand.
She liked supporting a Black indie bookstore as much as the next academic, but her book budget had its limits. Tonight was the night. She’d pick up a book about East German spy craft, but she was finally going to ask him out for coffee. Because coffee was innocent enough. But for now, she just needed to move her ass from the sidewalk to theinsideof The Page Turner, where the hottest man who ever held books worked. She peeked inside his window and spotted him at the counter.
Shea sucked in a breath as her eyes scanned his body. He was so damn tall...with a lean and muscular build. He could wear anything and his body would make her salivate, but today he wore dark blue jeans and a snug-fitting white T-shirt. His brown biceps stretched at the sleeves, and flexed when he checked his gold wristwatch. Shea fluffed the tight curls of her twist-out and gently exhaled.Now, or never, bitch.
As she hitched her purse up her shoulder, Shea pulled open the door. A bell jingled overhead as she passed through the threshold, alerting Nick. His smile popped immediately, bright white against his black beard and smooth dark brown skin. Her heart stuttered in her chest, threatening to stop altogether.
“Ms. Anderson,” he said in a low, melodic voice as he stepped away from the counter. “I’ve got a book for you.”
Shea’s face grew warm as she stepped up to the polished oak counter with its old-timey cash register. He kept it cleared of extra books and flyers most bookstores might have. In fact, Nick kept his entire store tidy. Not a dust ball or cobweb in sight, and it pleased her immensely. It felt like a little secret she knew about him. Yes, she knew he used to be a photographer and he only took over his grandfather’s bookstore a year ago... But she also imagined his clean and spacious apartment, a place where she could slide on polished hardwood floors in her socks.
“Thank you, Nick.” She beamed.
He turned on his heel, leaning over his back counter. “You know, I was kind of tempted to thumb through this one,” he murmured. “I’ve heard of the Stasi before, but I didn’t know how awful they were. People were really snooping on their neighbors like that?”
He set the book on the counter with a curious expression. It was cute, really. A wrinkle appeared between his thick black brows as he pondered the oppressive regime of East Germany. “Oh, it was terrible,” she breathed, excited to talk about her favorite subject. She taught literature, but the Cold War was where her heart belonged. “There’s this brilliant movie,The Lives of Others. It’s about an agent who—”
Brrring, brrring, brrring.
Her phone interrupted her. She fumbled for it, giving him an apologetic smile, and read the phone number. It was her father. “I’m sorry, I need to take this,” she said.
Nick waved her off with a gentle smile. “No problem,” he whispered.
Shea wandered back to the poetry shelves for privacy. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“Nothing much, pumpkin. Your mom and I were just wondering if you wanted to stop by for dinner tonight. She’s making shrimp alfredo.”
She smiled against her phone. A lovely invitation, but she was on a mission tonight, and could not be deterred. One way or another, she was going to muster up the courage to tell Nick how she felt about him.
Nick
It was hard not to stare at her.
Nick tried to busy himself behind the counter, pretending Shea Anderson’s visits weren’t the highlight of his week. The incredibly shy professor came by almost weekly, asking for books in that soft breathy voice that always seemed on the verge of an exciting discovery.
All he knew about her was that she was a native Chicagoan, who taught English at U of C. She managed to tell him that much before ordering her books and running away. What he never understood was why a woman who taught English was so obsessed with the KGB, the atomic bomb and the Warsaw Pact. It obviously meant she was a history buff.
And her beauty...well, it was hard not to admire. She usually came to his store wearing a nice blouse and dress pants. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, Shea wore a navy blue dress that kept him staring. The bodice hugged her full bosom, while the neckline was a modest V exposing the top of her nut-brown chest. The wrapped skirt molded the tuck of her waist before draping over her generous hips and down to her dimpled knees. She was a classic beauty, like an actress who shared the screen with Dorothy Dandridge.
Nick imagined photographing her on a warm summer day in Grant Park, beneath the dappling shade of an elm tree. Perhaps she leaned against its trunk, hands clasped behind her back while wearing a coy smile. He could pull dozens of shots of her... He had to shake himself from the fantasy. Focus his attention on his work, what little he had. She was only his third customer that day. Plus, he was no longer a full-time photographer. He’d had to leave the far-reaching wilds of the globe and come back home when his grandfather, Donnie, died. Running The Page Turner wasn’t part of Nick’s life goals, but he didn’t feel right ignoring a bequeathment.
That was a year ago, back when things felt simpler. The world still had climate change, disease and war to contend with. But no one had Imminent Space Debris Hurtling Toward Earth on that year’s bingo cards. When the world discovered that a dangerous amount of interstellar projectiles could impact the globe with cataclysmic effects, every world leader had to come together to prepare. This forced America to buckle down and invest in its infrastructure. A jobs bill and enough money to implement a state-of-the-art national alarm system and reopen bunkers from the Cold War.
Nick had read up on it when he left the jungles of Borneo and returned to civilization. While he was lying under sweltering brush and getting eaten up by fire ants, the world had come up with a plan. When his father, Ike, called him back home to accept the bookstore and the apartment above it, Nick had a jarring moment of confusion. He’d left Chicago, years ago, aching to see the world—to capture its image. Now he was back, stationary and unsure of how to run a business. Also, there might be a day where the world would go up in flames.
That’s when Nick made an incredible discovery in his granddad’s bookstore.
