The Bookseller's Boyfriend (Copper Point: Main Street Book 1)

by Heidi Cullinan

  “What you’re wearing is fine,” Jacob said. “I thought we’d take a walk around the lighthouse.”

  “There’s a lighthouse?” Rasul started to take the scrunchie out of his hair, then paused when he saw the look on Jacob’s face. “What?”

  Jacob immediately averted his gaze. “Nothing.”

  “That didn’t look like nothing. Do I look weird?” He stepped past Jacob to get to the bathroom, examining himself in the mirror. “Am I too messy? Should I shower?”

  “No.” Jacob sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I like your hair pulled back like that, that’s all I was thinking.” His arms sagged a little as he added, “And when you wear your glasses.”

  Rasul tilted his head and looked at himself again. He indeed had his hair up and was wearing glasses. “I thought I looked like a sleazy hipster.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Well, I’ll leave them both, then.”

  Jacob had his car out front, and when they climbed in, Rasul spied a picnic basket in the back seat. An actual picnic basket.

  “It’s probably too cold for a picnic,” Jacob said as they pulled away from the curb. He glanced at Rasul’s head. “I should have had you bring a hat.”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Well, we’ll have to swing by Walmart and pick one up. It gets cold by the bay.”

  Rasul clutched at his heart. “Wait a minute. We’re stopping at a corporate store?”

  “There’s no helping it. Engleton’s only has driving caps, which don’t seem like they’d suit you. There will be some handmade winter gear at the holiday bazaar in a few weeks, but that doesn’t do us any good today.”

  “What’s the holiday bazaar?”

  “Kind of like a farmer’s market, but without fruit or vegetables. Area crafters sell goods on Saturdays in the community center. The Main Street businesses offer good sales at the same time and hold events. People come from quite a ways a way to participate in it as well as shop Main Street. The library also hosts a used book sale the Saturday after Thanksgiving.”

  “Isn’t that competition for you?”

  Jacob shook his head. “I’d never survive without the library. In fact, I donate pretty heavily to the sale.”

  “Why do you say you wouldn’t survive without the library?”

  “Because people who read do it a lot, and sadly most don’t have that much money. Libraries nurture readers, teach them to read more broadly and give them ideas. I’m for the next book in the series, when you can’t stand to wait, or to pick up your own copy for your shelf. Also, my books are given as gifts. In my store and at the library I have a wish list depository and keep up the database, so if someone’s grandmother wants to buy them a book, they know exactly what to get.”

  Rasul whistled low. “That’s brilliant.”

  “Gus thought of it. He’s good with ideas like that. I keep stock at his place too, and if anyone buys a book with me, they get a free drink coupon punch on their card.”

  “Main Street takes care of its own.”

  Jacob nodded. “We try.”

  Rasul enjoyed, just a little, watching Jacob actively dislike the discount store. Their trip to the winter hats and gloves took them past the book section, which was mostly a sad rack of a narrow selection of best sellers.

  Jacob curled up his nose at it. “Look at this. Half of these books have been out for years, but they don’t have yours, and you’re in town. I’m sure the buyer doesn’t even know, or care. Also their idea of diversity is laughable. And yet this book”—he picked up a copy of the number-one best seller, according to their rack—“is priced so low they’re not making any money on it. Its whole purpose is to keep people out of my store and bring them here so that they buy televisions and toasters too. But even those only make them a fraction of what the old appliance store made before it had to close. They only get away with this because they trade in inhuman volume.”

  Never mind, this wasn’t fun anymore. Rasul tugged gently at Jacob’s arm. “Come on. Let’s buy this hat and gloves and go see the lighthouse. As soon as the bazaar opens, I’ll go buy hats, scarves, and gloves from every vendor.”

  It took Jacob a bit to calm down, but once they pulled off the highway and started to trek up the hill, he relaxed and went into story mode. “The lighthouse hasn’t been used in years, but it’s a historical site, so we keep it up. When the copper trade was in full swing, Copper Point was a busy port. The lighthouse isn’t needed anymore with the lights barges have, but it looks nice on the clifftop.”

  It was quite pretty, gleaming white brick against the early November sun. Almost like the turret of a castle. “Weird how you can’t see it from town.”

  “It’s just far enough away. The copper mines were farther north of town, and the ports are of course nowhere near the city, since we sit on a high cliff ourselves.”

  “Why did they build the town so high up? I was surprised I didn’t see a bay full of sailboats.”

  “The port is over by the country club. However, there aren’t as many boats as you might be thinking of. Lake Superior is cold and can be incredibly dangerous. If you want picturesque moments on the water, go over to Door County and Lake Michigan. The water is cold there too, unfortunately.”

  “I like the cold.” Rasul threaded his fingers behind his head and looked out the window. “Before I came here, I was in LA. Too hot, too dry.”

  Jacob glanced over at him. “You don’t miss California? The parties?”

  Rasul snorted. “I hated the parties.”

  “Yet you went all the time.”

  Rasul couldn’t decide if he was flattered or mortified. Both, maybe. “I couldn’t stand to be alone with myself, facing how badly I was failing.”

  “Do you feel like you’re failing now?”

  Unexpectedly, Rasul’s heart seized. He let out a ragged breath to relax the muscles in his chest. “No. I feel like I’ve stumbled into the most magical place in the world.”

  Jacob laughed. “Copper Point? Really?”

  It’s not Copper Point that draws me, not the most. Rasul ran a hand through his hair. “I like it here. Teaching is going better than I thought it would. The people are great, at the university and in town in general.”

  The man who owns the bookstore, in particular.

  Jacob nodded. “You haven’t talked about teaching as much lately. I worried you didn’t like it.”

  “Oh no, it’s great. It’s not what I expected, but it’s fun. I like watching people find their feet. The fanfic writers are my favorite. They’re so… pure. They just want to eat, breathe, and sleep the characters that started out as someone else’s and then became their own.” He rested his arm on the window. “I kind of want to do something for my students when we finish the second semester—they’re all staying on for round two. Have them do a short story anthology or something. You can print all kinds of stuff on demand for cheap nowadays.”

  “If you do, I’ll host an event for them in the store. Let them have a signing.”

  Rasul beamed. “You would? That’d be amazing.”

  “Of course. It’s what we do.”

  It was, Rasul realized. Jacob, Gus, Matt—even Christopher and Ram—they all took care of one another. That was what Rasul loved about this place too.

  Mostly, though, Copper Point was Jacob. It would always be Jacob, and the story he helped Rasul create.

  It was windy when they got out of the car, making Rasul extra glad they’d stopped for a hat and pair of gloves. The lighthouse was a self-guided tour, with warning signs about the stairs. By the time they got to the top, Rasul’s legs were jelly. The view was worth it, however.

  “This is amazing.” He gripped the iron rail and stared out across the bay toward the place where it spilled into mist.

  “It’s a popular confession point for high schoolers and kids at the college. Which I never understood. As soon as you pulled off onto this road or even headed in this direction, wouldn’t you k
now?”

  Rasul scoffed. “The anticipation is only part of the experience. Walking up the stairs, heart pounding, knowing what you were about to hear…. Good place for a first kiss too. That’s worth hiking for.” He rested his elbows on the rail and let his gaze unfocus, writing brain taking over. “Except if I were writing it, I’d build up the anticipation and then have something go haywire. Or I’d have the wrong love interest bring them up here, and it would be a breakup instead of a proposal. Talk about getting somebody to hate a character.” He winced and rubbed his cheek. “Sorry, lousy side effect of dating a writer.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s interesting.” Jacob was leaning on the rail too, inches from Rasul. He stared easily over the water, as if he were incredibly comfortable.

  Suddenly Rasul wanted to make sure Jacob wasn’t comfortable. He should be sweating the same way Rasul was.

  Turning to face Jacob, Rasul ran a gloved finger down his boyfriend’s arm. “Maybe we should have our first kiss here.”

  Mmm, but it was delicious the way Jacob leapt back. “I—I thought you said—your book—”

  “I said I’d wait until I finished to take you to bed.” Rasul took a slow, predatory step toward Jacob, who backed up again. “Too cold to have sex up here, but a kiss would warm me right up.”

  “Wait, that’s not why—” Jacob almost tripped over his feet in his haste to get further away.

  Rasul swept in and caught him. He felt Jacob trembling as he righted him. “Don’t want a kiss from me?”

  “That’s not—I don’t—” With a shuddering sigh, Jacob closed his eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose, sending me to pieces.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Because you’re so delicious when you’re a mess.” Jacob’s eyes flared open, and Rasul laughed. “But you’re also delightful when ferocious. You’re perfect, full stop, Jacob Moore. Let me kiss you. Please.”

  Jacob let out a shaking breath. His gaze fell on Rasul’s lips.

  The wind whipped around them, but Rasul was full of warmth. For the first time in a long, long time, the universe felt right and good, and he didn’t want this moment to end.

  Sliding a hand behind Jacob’s head, Rasul pulled himself forward and kissed him.

  It wasn’t the kiss he’d anticipated giving him. It was soft and sweet, almost hesitant. For all Jacob’s outward panic, it was Rasul’s soul that screamed in terror, afraid to leap, afraid to dream. This man had changed everything, and with the snap of his fingers, he could do it again. It would be so easy, so terrifyingly easy, for Rasul to find himself more alone than ever.

  But he wasn’t alone right now. Oh, he absolutely wasn’t alone.

  Letting out a breath, he tilted his head and opened his mouth over Jacob’s.

  Jacob startled, hesitated, then kissed him with all the passion Rasul had seen banked in his eyes.

  They clutched at each other, grabbing jackets, tugging at hats. Rasul’s glasses bumped Jacob’s face, but he kept going, extricating his hands from his gloves so he could feel the faint trail of stubble along Jacob’s cheek, down his neck.

  When they ran out of air, they pressed their foreheads together and held on to each other’s heads.

  “Your hat went over the side, I think,” Jacob said at last.

  “Wasn’t that great of a hat anyway.” Rasul couldn’t stop stroking Jacob’s cheeks with his thumbs.

  Jacob let his hands slip to Rasul’s neck. “I was going to suggest we take the picnic to my apartment, but that seems like a bad idea now.”

  Oh, it seemed like an incredible idea. But Rasul could be patient. “We can eat in the car.” When Jacob gave him a look, he laughed. “The front seat, you dirty-minded man.” He pressed a kiss to Jacob’s nose. “Then take me back. I want to go finish this story, so I can show it to you, and so….”

  He dragged his thumb over Jacob’s lips.

  Jacob shut his eyes, and Rasul almost said screw it, and took him back to the apartment then and there. But then Jacob grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the stairs. “Your ears are red. We need to get inside.”

  Sighing, Rasul followed.

  But as they neared the bottom, Jacob stopped and said, without turning around, “The first time will be at your apartment. In your bedroom. With the lights.”

  If they’d still been at the top of the lighthouse, Rasul would have leapt off the edge and flown, joyfully, into the milky November sun. “That can be arranged.”

  TOWARD THE end of November, Jacob started having a recurring dream that he was back in high school.

  Sometimes there were mundane bits where he wandered the halls, but he always ended up at a school dance. He’d gone intermittently to dances in real life, mostly hanging out with his friends, all of whom had moved away after college. They were all back now in this dream, plus people who hadn’t lived in Copper Point in high school, like Gus and Jack Wu, and Matt, who had been much younger than him. There were also people who had been years ahead of him, like Simon, Owen, and Jared. They danced together for fast songs, but when a slow dance came on, all the men who were partnered in real life went out together, plus Matt and Gus. That tracked, as they’d dated briefly when they were both in college. The end result was that Jacob was left alone, the wallflower holding a glass of punch and pretending not to care that he was by himself. Sometimes the cats showed up, Mr. Nancy winding around his feet, Susan sitting on the punch table judging everyone, Moriarty tripping people.

  Always at some point Air Supply would start to play, specifically “The One That You Love.” Then a very adult, very sexy Rasul would part the crowd and move forward, hand extended to Jacob, asking him to dance.

  Usually this was when Jacob woke up, but sometimes he ran out of the gymnasium and into fog that never ended. He didn’t have the dream often, but it was regular enough that when he heard an Air Supply song come over the radio in the grocery store, he twitched. He also started acting awkward around Rasul, which wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help it.

  Jacob knew the dreams were caused by stress, a lot of it brought on because of Clark’s constant digs. They were subtle, but they were a regular drumbeat, and they ate at him. Just as he had with every other candidate for the chamber, Clark ragged on Jacob’s business sense during meetings and to every member, stopping by their businesses to tell them why Jacob was so dangerous. Clark criticized Jacob’s choices, his methodologies, his dangerous ways. The attacks held no water with Jacob’s friends, but the real dangers were the neutral parties like James Petersen, who ran Petersen Home Furnishings. Petersen liked Jacob well enough, but his business was threatened every time another online retailer made it easier to shop elsewhere cheaper. It wasn’t so much that he believed Jacob was a threat as he worried Clark was right, that the only way to be safe was to never change.

  Jacob worried he should have had more of a campaign. Well, he knew he should have had one. He kept thinking of what Rasul had said on their first date, about how he should let someone else do it if he didn’t want to. But he’d put his name in now. Wasn’t he letting everyone down if he didn’t commit? Probably.

  So he tried counter-messaging, visiting the members too, listening to their concerns. He didn’t promise them he could fix everything, but he did offer some tips when he had them, and he never got upset if they said they weren’t sure those ideas would work. Maybe he wouldn’t work.

  “You’re doing better than you think,” Rebecca told him after a hospital board meeting when he mentioned his potential failure as a candidate. “Besides, Julian and I are working behind the scenes.”

  That gave Jacob some hope, but he kept having nightmares.

  Then, three days before Thanksgiving, he didn’t simply dream that he ran away from Rasul through the fog. He darted out of the gym and into the living room of his parents’ house, arriving in time to see them heading out the door to the garage, waving at him and telling him they were running an errand and would be back soon.

  He woke still shouting at them not to go, te
ars streaming down his face.

  As he shook off the tendrils of the nightmare, he took in the details of his room: his bed, the dresser, the three cats sitting in a concerned circle around him. Shaking, he got up to get a glass of water.

  He had the glass half full before he dropped it in the sink and collapsed against the counter, sobbing.

  In the dream, he’d known they were departing for what would be their last ride. They wore the clothes they’d worn that day, the ones from the pictures of the event they’d been at. The ones that had been incinerated somewhere in one of the hospitals, too torn and bloody to save. He’d had variations of this dream about three years after their death, right before he’d started the bookstore. There was no way he could handle it if that dream came back. He’d rather go to the school dance naked and have Rasul laugh at him as he walked off with a troupe of models.

  Rasul.

  He had his phone in his hand before he realized it, had started dialing faster than he could check the time. His gaze fell on the clock, though, as Rasul picked up: 2:30 a.m. He winced.

  “Hello?” Rasul’s voice was only slightly rough.

  “I’m sorry.” Jacob shut his eyes, focused on slow breathing, but his voice was still shaky. “I shouldn’t have called.”

  “Jacob?” Rasul became instantly clear and alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  He meant to say It’s stupid, but instead he whispered, “Nightmare. Parents.”

  “Oh, baby. Hold on. I’ll be right over.”

  “No, no.” Jacob collapsed into the sofa and shut his eyes. “I only… needed to hear your voice.”

  “Well, you can hear it as much as you want.” There was shuffling in the background, something closing. “I need a break anyway. I think I’m producing swill at this point.”