Page 8 of The Holiday Grump
“Where’re you from?”
“Bangor.”
“That’s two hours away,” he stated.
I looked away, feeling the burn of shame on my face. “I know. But I can’t. Trust me.”
To my relief, he didn’t push. He just turned, kicked a box out of the way, and headed for the door.
I locked up and followed him down the street. Fredrik stopped next door at a darkened shop I’d completely missed earlier. In contrast to the bright and festive displays around it, the window looked like a black hole. Only when I drew closer to the glass did I make out shelves crammed with books, stacked so tightly they formed an impenetrable wall of literature.
Fredrik unlocked the door. As we stepped inside, a buzzer doorbell screeched overhead, a sound that instantly made me think I’d failed a test. The air smelled of books and dust. In the dim light, the tall shelves loomed like an ancient forest. I hugged myself, terrified of bumping into one and starting an avalanche.
I loved bookstores. I’d seen my share of crammed little stores, but never anything this… grim.
Fredrik vanished behind a shelf, and a light flicked on at the back, throwing long shadows across the floor.
“The bathroom is upstairs.”
I followed his voice to a narrow staircase. Upstairs opened into a cramped hallway. The bathroom was old, but to my surprise, it had a shower stall.
“This used to be the shopkeeper’s quarters.” He gestured down the hall. “Now it’s… storage.”
I didn’t linger even though I wanted to. I could always brush my teeth later with bottled water. I was resourceful when I had to be.
Still, I couldn’t resist grabbing a clean towel from a shelf,wetting it, and giving my armpits a quick wipe. Oh, the bliss.
I rinsed the towel and came out, dabbing my cheeks. “I borrowed a towel. I hope that’s okay?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Sure.”
“I really need a shower, but that’s okay. I’ll find the gym tomorrow. Where did you say it was?”
“On Buoy Street, past the library and fire station. But it might not be what you’re picturing. I’ve never seen a woman there.”
“I’m not fussy!”
“No, you’re right. It’s probably better than a bar for push-ups,” he said dryly.
I muffled my laughter in the towel. “I was taking a photo and wanted to look a bit warmer.”
He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he’d drop the subject. But as we reached the stairs, he turned back. “Why?”
I could tell it bothered him, and I felt a sudden bout of glee. I’d managed to crack that carefully curated act of disinterest. Because it was an act. I was sure of it.
He wore no ring. He sat alone in a bar on a Friday night. He’d warned me about a matchmaking lady. All signs pointed to being single. Yet he acted like he wanted nothing to do with anyone. Why sit in a bar, surrounded by people, if you didn’t want to talk?
I’d never met anyone like him. Guys like this didn’t end up on cruise ships, though, so maybe it was a case of sampling bias.
I didn’t think I was stunning, but I was cute enough to get by. I could tell he felt responsible for me in some old-fashioned, chivalrous way. But he hadn’t looked at me with even a flicker of interest.
Except now. Now, Ibotheredhim. It wasn’t exactly the stuff of daydreams, but it felt like a victory.
A smile tugged at my lips, and I met his gaze. In the low light, his eyes were almost black. “I’ll tell you, if you first tell me why you read in a bar.”
CHAPTER 4
Fredrik
