The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

“Yes. He’s clearly trying to make things right with you. Can’t you even give him five minutes?”

“Whose side are you on here? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”

“I’m always on your side.” She held out her hands, raising her eyebrows, then shrugged. “Unless you’re being a dumbass bitch, then I’m on the other side.”

“Ugh.”

“Hey. That’s how you know I’m a good friend.”

“How exactly is that?”

She hung her coat up. “Because a good friend isn’t afraid to call you on your bullshit. And you, my friend, are full of it.”

“Seems like I’m interrupting a therapy session.”

I looked at Sebastian, who was now standing in the open doorway, then at Saylor. “Why didn’t you close that?”

“Because I don’t possess the power of telekinesis?” she replied.

I turned back to Sebastian. “Sorry. We’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Holley!”

“What?”

Saylor stalked over to the door, kicked the door wedge away, and shut the door. “There. Now we’re closed with him inside.”

“I’m going to murder you while you sleep.”

“Try to wear gloves so you don’t leave any evidence.”

“Oh, no. I want people to know it was me.” I glared at her.

Sebastian’s lips twitched to one side. “I see some things really don’t change.”

Saylor snorted. “You could say that. What’s up?”

“I was in town and thought I’d stop by.” He glanced at me.

“You wanted to see if I got the flowers,” I said, wrapping another book without looking at him. “As you can see, I did. You can’t really miss them.”

“You’re so rude,” Saylor interrupted.

Sebastian fought a smile, ignoring her. “Good. That was the point.”

Swallowing, I forced myself to look up. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But I still don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re a child,” Saylor muttered.

“Do you mind?” I snapped.

She grinned, leaning against the side of a bookcase. “No. Not at all.”

Sebastian looked between the two of us. “Two minutes, Holley. Please?”

I stared at him, a piece of tape flapping on the end of my finger.

He drew a cross over his heart. “Then I’ll leave.”

Let’s be honest: it wasn’t like I had a choice. He was going to stand here regardless, and the last thing I needed was the pink-haired peanut gallery over there to witness every last second.

“Fine.” I walked out from behind the counter. “Two minutes, then if you don’t leave, I’m going to drag you out of here.”

His grin made all kinds of butterflies erupt in my stomach.

Goddamn it.

This was a terrible idea.

I beckoned for him to follow me to the back room, and when I caught Saylor craning her neck, I glared at her and said, “You can finish wrapping those books, or I’m going to tell Margaret you’re going to take them to her.”

That wiped the smile off her face.

Boy, I hoped she didn’t get bored of trying to marry Saylor off anytime soon.

Sebastian followed me into the storeroom. “She’s still as nosy as ever.”

“Mm.” I still had the bit of tape on my finger. I flapped it through the air as if that would dislodge it, then stuck it on the edge of a shelf filled with autobiographies that needed to be restocked. “Two minutes.”

“I’m glad you liked the flowers.”

“Really? You brought me back here to say that?”

“No. I just thought it was a good place to start. I’m actually wondering if anyone can explain the ducks,” he said slowly, a frown marring his brow.

He did not bring me back here to talk about the ducks.

I folded my arms across my chest.

“My grandpa has been sending me photos of them in bow ties and bonnets all morning, and I’m confused.”

“No. Nobody can explain the ducks. We really don’t know what’s going on.” I paused. “But it does get worse when you hear their names.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Their names? They named them?”

“Oh, yeah. And they’re all puns.”

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I kept my face expressionless. “Those ducks are a nightmare. Quackie Chan haunts me.”

He fought a laugh. “Did you just say Quackie Chan?”

“Mm.” I leaned against the shelving unit and looked at him. “But you didn’t bring me back here to talk about ducks,” I said. “What do you really want?”

“All right, you got me.” He held up his hands, then ran one through his messy black curls.

They were all shiny and unruly, and a flash of desire to have it be my hand running through them shot through me.

Whoa.

That could back the fuck up to Nopeland.

When he didn’t say anything, I raised my eyebrows in question.

He rolled his shoulders and winced. A hint of pain flashed through his eyes, but he brushed it off before meeting my eyes again. “Kate’s getting married this weekend.”

“I thought it was just before Thanksgiving.”

“On the save the date cards it was, but they settled on this weekend.”

“Oh, right.” Josh must have been wrong then.

“I need a date.”

“It’s the fourth of November.”