The Bookworm's Guide to Dating (The Bookworm's Guide 1)

Because as nice as Elliott was, his laugh hadn’t sent any kind of tingles anywhere last night, and we’d laughed together a lot.

One little laugh from Josh this morning and it was like I’d dipped myself in a vat of damp popping candy.

“Holy shit. Is this a delivery, or are you setting up a second store we don’t know about?”

I sighed and set the heavy book down. “I know. I can’t move and organize all these by myself.”

“Jesus.” Josh shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair in the corner, revealing a form-fitting black t-shirt that clung to his toned body. I kind of really wanted to run my hands up his front just to see if there were as many dips and crevices as I imagined.

That was not helping the tingling.

“Where do we start?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “They all need logging and storing, but I don’t know which box is which.”

“Don’t you have a system to log them all?”

I grabbed the scanner from one of the shelves. “The software connects to the laptop at the front and logs it all, but I just don’t know which box to start with.”

He scanned the room. “Well, the room is huge so there’s no shortage of space. Are there packing slips in the boxes?”

“There should be, but they’re sometimes shoved to the bottom.”

“Haven’t you opened any of them yet?”

“I moved one box, realized I was out of my depth, and called you.”

“I expect to be fed for this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swedish-style multi-tool, then flipped out the knife.

“I’ll buy you lunch.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you often carry a pocket-sized toolbox around with you?

“Only if I know I might have to help out a needy bookworm with an abundance of boxes.”

“Funny.”

He sliced open three boxes and looked. “Right. The packing slips are on top. I suggest we go through them all, find the ones with packing slips, and set them to the side. That way we can work on the ones without the slips, log them, and then do the easy stuff after.”

I stared at him.

“Is that too organized for you, Ms. Bookworms Are Gonna Take Over The World?”

“No, but I’m considering which book to use to break your nose with,” I muttered, carrying the scanner across the room to where he was.

He grinned, moving one of the boxes. “You won’t break my nose.”

“I don’t know. I bet I could get a nice swing with an encyclopedia.”

“Yeah, but then you’d probably put your back out and need a trip to the ER yourself.”

“Well, at least we could share an ambulance. Split the cost.”

He looked at me, his lips twitching as if he were fighting the biggest laugh.

“What? I’m just being sensible. Those suckers are expensive.”

Out came the laugh.

I was right. It was a huge belly laugh that rocked his entire body, making his shoulders shake to the point he had to lean on a huge stack of the boxes to catch his breath.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I muttered, folding my arms to sulk.

“You just looked so serious,” he said after a moment, straightening up again. “Ouch, shit!”

I looked down at his hand. Red was pooling on his finger, and my eyes widened. “If you bleed on my books, I’ll kill you!”

He instantly stuck his finger in his mouth. “Gee, thanks for your concern,” he said around his finger.

“That’s karma.” I pointed my own finger at him and turned away.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the damn first aid kit, you baby. Sit down and be quiet a minute.”

I had no idea if he did as he was told right away because I’d already left the room. I knew we had a kit under the sink in the staff room, and a quick peek behind the cleaning tub proved me correct. I grabbed it and the roll of paper towels.

I took the little white box back through to the storeroom. Josh was perched on the windowsill, his finger still shoved in his mouth.

“Ugh, stop licking your own blood. You’re not a vampire.” I shoved a wad of the paper towels at him.

He took them, putting them over his cut instead of his mouth. “Vampires don’t drink their own blood.”

“Whatever. Just stop. It’s gross.” I rifled through the box for some Band-Aids.

“It’s really not bleeding that badly,” he said as I took them over and laid them out on the nearest box. I had a selection of sizes so I could pick the best one.

“Whatever. Let me see it.”

He didn’t.

I grabbed his wrist and flipped his hand over, then slapped his other hand away. The paper towel was already coated in blood, and although it didn’t look particularly deep, it was almost the length of half his finger.

With a sigh, I told him to hold the paper towels there again and went back to the first aid kit.