you say to such a pathetic purchase? I could have told her the book was supposed to have been a joke between me and her son, but now the joke had fizzled and it was just a cheesy book on clearance that I was buying before I made a quick getaway. But that seemed like a lot to explain, so I just stayed silent.
Why, I asked myself mournfully for the hundredth time, did I take my e-reader into the shower?
“So that’s a dollar ninety-nine,” Stella said. I handed over two of my precious dollar bills, then dug into my pocket for the tax.
“No tax, sweetie,” Stella said. “After all, that book was headed for the shredder. You rescued it!”
“That’s what I said,” I said. She grinned at me, and I half-smiled back, feeling a little less mortified.
“Okay,” I sighed. “Well . . .”
I cast a glance back toward the stacks, where Josh was still hidden. Suddenly I felt a rush of tears swell behind my eyes.
How had this gone so wrong? I wanted to linger in Dog Ear. I wanted to slowly browse the stacks, then take a tall bundle of books over to the lounge. I’d flop into that cracked-leather chair, where I’d skim through six different first chapters while nibbling vanilla wafers. Then I’d buy myself a good book and take it straight to the beach.
But instead I’d met Josh, and somehow we’d gone from flirting to flame-out in less than five minutes. I was too mortified to stay. I had to slink out of Dog Ear, with a lame book, to boot.
It just wasn’t fair.
I turned back to Stella to thank her for ringing me up, but she was peering with concern into the lounge.
“E.B.,” she said with a warning tone.
The dog lifted one eyebrow at her and whimpered.
“Oh, no,” Stella cried. “E.B., hold on, boy!”
She swooped down to reach for something under the counter. When she came up, she was holding a leash.
Now the dog let out a loud, rumbling groan.
“Noooo, E.B.!” Stella cried. She raced over and grabbed the dog by the collar. She clicked on the leash and hustled E.B. to the door.
“You know you shouldn’t eat so many cookies,” she scolded.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud as Stella hustled her rotund black Lab through the door.
But a moment later I felt a presence behind me, and my urge to laugh faded.
It was him. I just knew it.
I paused for a moment before turning around. I inhaled sharply.
You know how some people’s looks change once you get to know them? Unattractive people become better-looking when you find out how funny and smart they are. And gorgeous people can turn ugly if you find out they’re evil inside.
Well, now that I’d seen Josh’s surly, sullen side . . . that didn’t happen at all. He was somehow cuter than ever. Which is really annoying in a boy who’s made you feel like an ass (even if he did make me feel pretty amazing first).
“E.B. has a touch of irritable bowel syndrome,” Josh explained.
“Am I supposed to laugh at that?” I asked.
“No,” Josh said simply. “It’s not a joke. It’s really gross, actually.”
That, of course, made me want to laugh. So now Josh was making me feel like an immature ass.
“Well, I hope he feels better. See ya,” I said. Of course, I didn’t plan to see Josh. I was already wondering how I could find out his work schedule—so I could be sure to avoid him.
“Look at this,” Josh said, thrusting a book toward me. It sounded a lot like an order.
“Excuse me?” I said. I raised one eyebrow, which was a skill I’d learned recently. I’d had a lot of time to practice it during the drive from California.
It worked. Josh looked quite squirmy.
“I mean, well, I think you might like this book,” he said more quietly. When I didn’t take it from him, he put it on the counter next to me. I glanced at it only long enough to see that the cover was still intact. It had a photo that looked blue and watery.
“Listen, Coconut Dreams is not my usual kind of book,” I said. “If this is anything like that, I think I’ll pass.”
“It’s not, I swear,” Josh said. “Look, it’s not even on clearance.”
I gave him a look that I hoped was deeply skeptical, and picked up the book.
I loved the look of the cover. It was an undulating underwater photo. In