by C. Coal
Ah, the joys of working retail in December.
She bustled up to the front register and added one more book to Mrs. Hendrix's growing stack of items. The woman loved to shop and was at Barks 'n' Books at least once a week, but she also insisted on shopping with her two-year-old Great Dane, King, so she always needed the staff to take her books to the front desk for her.
The one time they hadn't done so, she'd tried to juggle King, a fresh cup of coffee from the café, and a stack of eight books herself. King had lunged after a little bichon frise, Ms. Hendrix had screamed and dropped both the coffee and the books as she was dragged along after him, and Amy had been stuck with a very scared bichon as well as coffee all over the floor, the eight books, and every book on the bottom shelf for two feet in all directions.
So now Amy kept an eye out, and the minute Ms. Hendrix showed the least interest in a book, she swooped in to take it up to the front desk. Easier to reshelve a few titles than clean up something like that again.
Amy loved working at Barks 'n' Books—it combined two of her favorite things, dogs and books. But. A bookstore that not only allowed dogs but catered to them, was a disaster waiting to happen.
It certainly made for a new adventure every day, because she never knew exactly what might happen.
Amy jumped in on the secondary cash register and rang up five customers to help the new girl, Lindsay, out a bit. They'd needed to hire the new help for the holidays, but until Lindsay got the hang of things she just slowed things down rather than sped them up. The poor girl still didn't know where to look for the bar code on a book. And when the scanner didn't work, which was ninety percent of the time, it took her what felt like ages to key in each ISBN number.
Ah well. She'd learn eventually. Or maybe Bryce would transfer her to gift wrap and let Amy handle the register. Of course, gift wrap was also the information desk, and since half of all questions involved some version of, "I don't know the title of the book or the author, but it had a big yellow thing on the cover and was about World War II. Or was it World War I? I think it's fiction. Although maybe not," that probably wouldn't work very well either.
Amy puffed out her cheeks and surveyed the store full of happy holiday shoppers. Only two more weeks until Christmas and then this would all be over for another year. Oh, sure. There'd be some bargain shoppers in after the holiday—mostly to buy calendars on sale—but once Christmas passed Amy could go back to spending most of her shift reading a book while ostensibly working the register.
She wove her way through the crowd, straightening a stack of books here, facing her favorite new book there, smiling all the while. As crazy as this place was, she loved it.
Five times on her way towards the back of the store someone stopped her for help. Three times to ask for a recommendation for someone they apparently didn't know very well. Like the last woman who'd wanted "some fantasy series" for her nephew who was "I don't know, maybe twelve? Or is he fourteen by now?"
Amy never would understand the impulse people had to buy someone a book that they hadn't requested. Oh, sure. It might work. That kid might love The Chronicles of Narnia. But just as likely the kid already had it or didn't even read. (Amy winced to think of the gift-sets of The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of The Rings that had sat on her shelf untouched all through her childhood while she devoured the likes of David Eddings and Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey. She'd loved fantasy, just not the kind anyone bought her.)
But it wasn't her job to discourage people, so she did her best with recommendations along the lines of "Well, this one seems to be quite popular this year" or "I was always a big fan of these books when I was little."
She came around the corner of the biography aisle and narrowly avoided stepping in a pile of some puppy's piddle. Honestly. There were paper towels and spray at the end of every aisle. How hard was it to police your dog? But, just like at the park, it seemed some folks considered themselves above cleaning up after their dogs.
Muttering to herself about how she'd love the ability to banish certain people to an alternate reality, she wiped up the mess and continued to the back to wash her hands.
For a brief moment, she thought about going to work somewhere else, but then she dismissed it.
This was the only bookstore job on offer for miles and, given her voracious reading habits, the employee discount saved her a fortune each month. Not to mention the "read while you work" perk of a slow weeknight.
And she did love to see the dogs, especially since she didn't have one herself. Too many long hours for that between college and work. It was just when the dogs decided to make a chew toy of some new photography book or peed on the floor or got away from their owners that she questioned her choice of employer.
She washed her hands, took a deep breath, and stepped back into the store.
Just in time for a husky puppy to barrel by, no collar, no leash, and no owner anywhere in sight.
"Whoa there, where are you going?"
The puppy ran down the aisle to Ms. Hendrix and King, its little puppy tail wagging in excitement as it yipped and jumped at King's face. King immediately took an interest in the pup, dipping his large head down to sniff at it, and bringing a paw the size of the puppy's head down for a playful swat that sent the puppy sprawling.
He followed that up with another big sniff at the now-frightened puppy, which scurried back towards Amy, tail tucked between its legs.
King, not wanting to be left behind by his newly-found friend, followed, dragging an unwilling and, until then, unaware, Ms. Hendrix along.
Ms. Hendrix made it about three steps before she lost hold of King, her coffee flying into the air.
Amy winced as, powerless to stop events, coffee splattered everywhere and King lunged after the puppy that was running right for her.
"Princess, Princess. Where are you?" a man called from somewhere towards the front of the store.
Princess, or so she assumed, ducked between Amy's legs as Amy straight-armed King like she was playing defense in a professional basketball game.
"King. Sit." She tried to fend him off with one hand while the puppy wove her way between Amy's legs with a quiet whimper.
King ignored her as he darted from one side to the other trying to reach the puppy.
The only thing that kept him from following the puppy through Amy's legs were the frantic blocks Amy made each time he tried.
Ms. Hendrix—a sweet but ineffectual woman who really shouldn't own a dog that weighed more than her—tried to help by standing about three feet away repeating, "Come here, boy. Come here, King. Leave the puppy alone." She never once raised her voice above a library whisper.
And, of course, King didn't listen to her any more than he'd listened to Amy. All he cared about was the puppy who had finally found safety on the other side of Amy's legs.
"Princess," the man called again somewhere towards the front of the store.
Normally, Amy would never think to shout in the bookstore. It wasn't that kind of place. But King wasn't going to wait much longer before he decided to push right through her to get to the puppy.
"If you're looking for a husky puppy that got loose, she's over here," she shouted.
King chose that moment to lunge for the puppy.
Through Amy's legs.
He didn't fit; Amy found herself straddling a dog the size of a small horse as he barreled down the aisle after the puppy. She stood on tippy-toe to let him through, but King still managed to push her along for about two feet before she tumbled off his rear and rolled to a stop on her butt in the middle of the aisle.
"Oh, Amy, are you okay?" Ms. Hendrix reached down to help her back up, but just then, the puppy—which had raced down the neighboring aisle—turned the corner and ran right for them, King in hot pursuit.
"Watch out, Ms. Hendrix." Amy motioned her to the side and Ms. Hendrix jumped out of the way just in time for the scared puppy to leap into the apparent safety of Amy's lap. Instinctively, Amy co
vered the pup with her body and ducked her head as King bore down on them.
He sniffed and snuffled at them as the pup quivered in Amy's arms, scared to death. "It's okay. It's okay. He's just really big and really friendly," she said in her most soothing sing-song.
Finally, Bryce showed up, grabbed King's collar, and dragged him away.
Amy let go of her death grip on the puppy and breathed a sigh of relief. Disaster over.
The puppy, restored to its usual puppy enthusiasm, climbed all over her, tail whipping side-to-side as it covered Amy's face in frantic puppy kisses.
Amy couldn't help but laugh as she tried to defend herself from this unexpected secondary attack.
"Oh no, I am so sorry. What is she doing to you?" a man asked. "Princess, come here."
Princess ignored him.
"Princess, I have a treat."
Princess immediately stopped and ran to the man kneeling a few feet away, a treat in his hand.
Amy glanced around to make sure King was well away and secure. King loved treats.
Princess snarfed down the treat as the man finally managed to put her collar back on.
Amy stood and dusted herself off. She was pretty sure she looked like a fright after the tumble over King and the kiss attack from Princess, but what could she do? Just another day of work at Barks 'n' Books.
Not like she was some fashionista anyway.
"I am so sorry about that," the man said from behind her.
"Oh, no worries. Just another day on the job." Amy turned around.
Holy cow.
The man was gorgeous. Like, so gorgeous he couldn't possibly be real. Cover-of-a-magazine-that's-been-air-brushed, gorgeous. Every-hot-movie-star-rolled-into-one, gorgeous
Except he was real. The most gorgeous man she could have ever dreamed of was standing right there in front of her and grinning at her with a completely adorable lopsided grin.
He grabbed a paper towel from the end of the aisle and wiped slobber off her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, I think that was actually King."
Amy shook her head. If she wasn't careful she'd stand there staring at the man like a fool. She bent down to scratch Princess's ears to give herself a chance to recover. Honestly, it wasn't fair for a man to be that good-looking. And to smell that good either. Like wood smoke and fresh air.
"Well, thank you, whatever did happen. Princess certainly seems to like you."
"Oh, yeah." She gave Princess one last pat and stood up. "Dogs always like me. It's the humans I don't do well with. Except babies."
She scanned the store. The line at the register was a mile long and information was swarmed. At least Bryce had cleaned up the coffee spill.
"I better get going," she said.
"Yeah, me too."
But neither one moved until Princess started hopping backwards, squirming left and right, trying to shake herself loose from her collar again.
The man gave her that lopsided grin as he pulled another treat from his pocket. Princess immediately sat down, her entire attention focused on his hand.
He shrugged. "Treats. Work every time. Unfortunately, she's going to be five hundred pounds by the time she's full-grown if we keep this up."
Amy laughed. She was staring again, but she couldn't help herself.
"Anything I can help you find?" she asked.
"Probably wanta get rid of me and my troublesome dog, don't you?"
"Ah, um, no. No. Not at all."
The man met her eyes and Amy almost melted at his feet.
"That's okay. I think Princess and I are done with our little shopping adventure for today. Maybe we’ll give it a shot during the week sometime when there are fewer people around. And after I've made sure her collar is actually tight enough to stay on." He ruffled Princess's ears. "Thanks again."
"You're welcome. Come back any time."
The man led Princess away through the throng of holiday shoppers. Amy stood in the middle of the aisle and stared after him, her mouth slightly open.
She would've probably stayed there the rest of her shift, but some woman came up a moment later asking for "a blue book with white text on it that was about something spiritual. Or religious, maybe."
Fortunately for the woman, Amy knew exactly the book she was talking about.
* * *
Amy quickly forgot about the gorgeous man and his incorrigible puppy. Between helping out on the register, shelving new books, and tidying up after the insane number of people and dogs shopping for gifts, she barely had time to breathe, let alone think.
And so it went for the next two weeks. Amy had agreed to work any available shift which meant she was scheduled seven days a week through Christmas Eve including twelve hours shifts on both Saturday and Sunday.
The man and Princess did come back into the store a couple times in the next two weeks, but it always seemed to be at the worst moment possible. Once she saw them when she was on the register with a line of ten impatient people waiting. Another time she saw them hovering nearby as she helped some woman with a twenty-item-long list of items she insisted she couldn’t find herself.
All Amy could do each time was manage a quick smile for the man and a treat and ear scratch for Princess before she dove back into the insanity of working retail over the holidays.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around she was dead on her feet, a smile permanently plastered on her face, and every word of every song on the Christmas CD tattooed into her mind to the point she heard the songs even in her sleep.
* * *
At four o'clock on Christmas Eve, Amy stood behind the information counter, wrapping a series of books in golden paper, one after the other, as she spoke to an elderly woman.
"A cookbook for an outdoorsman?" Amy asked.
"Yes. They talked about it on some morning show last week. Said it was very good." The old woman pressed her hand-written to-do list through her fingers over and over again.
"Was it a real book?" Amy finished wrapping one book and started on the next.
The old woman canted her head to the side. "A real book? What do you mean?"
"Well, there's a joke cookbook that we have right now. About cooking squirrels. I don't think it's meant to be real, though." Amy had to wrap the book at an angle because she'd cut the paper too short. Thankfully, she'd learned the angled-book trick or she would've wasted a lot of wrapping paper in the last two weeks.
"That could be it." The woman nodded her head.
"But you understand, I don't think they expect anyone to actually use the recipes." Amy finished the last of the four books, put them back in the shopping bag, and handed them off to the middle-aged man waiting for them. "Thank you. Happy holidays."
The man barely nodded to her as he walked away.
The old woman shrugged. "Nothing wrong with eatin' squirrel. Or raccoon. Or possum. I've eaten them all in my day."
Amy hid her surprise. To each his own. "Well, then, that's probably the one you want."
She saw Mark, one of the new hires, halfway down a nearby aisle, looking confused. "Mark. Can you show this woman the squirrel cookbook? It'll be in the humor aisle, second or third section, about halfway down. Cover is blue with white writing and a little doodle of a squirrel. Thanks." She gestured the woman towards Mark. "Mark'll show you where to go. Let me know if that's not the book."
She grabbed the next stack of books and started wrapping as the woman followed after Mark.
Two black paws suddenly appeared against the edge of the counter and she jumped back with a loud, "Oh!" of shock.
"I'm so sorry. Princess, treat." Princess immediately sat and looked up at her owner.
Amy went back to her gift-wrapping. Anything to avoid staring at the man who was just as gorgeous now as the first time she met him.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Princess was still sitting there perfectly behaved. The pup pawed at his hand and nudged it with her nose, but otherwise she stayed seated, waiting for
her treat.
"How can I help you?" Amy asked. She nodded towards Princess. "Better make it fast. I suspect she won't sit there for you all day."
"Right. Sorry. Um. My mother wants this book." He showed her a shopping list on his phone.
Amy scanned the other items on his list. A sweater for his sister, hiking boots for his brother, a movie for his father, and five different things for Princess.
She tried not to smile, but she knew she was busted when she heard him laugh. "I know. Ridiculous aren't I? I'm buying more gifts for my dog than for my family."
She glanced at him and then away again. He really was too gorgeous too exist in the real world.
As she typed the book into the computer, she saw him give Princess the treat at last. Immediately, Princess darted around the corner to Amy.
"Princess. No."
"Oh, it's okay."
Amy bent down to pet the puppy's ears and laughed as Princess immediately started kissing her face.
"Princess!"
"No, it's fine. It's fine. I don't get to see puppies often." She gave Princess a kiss on the nose and stood back up. "So, can I ask, why did you name her Princess? It fits her, but…it's not really a name most guys would give their dog."
Well, at least it wasn't a name she thought a straight guy would give his dog. And certainly not a husky. Maybe a shih-tzu or Chihuahua.
He laughed, a soft husky laugh that made her toes curl, and leaned on the counter to look down at Princess. "It is a pretty ridiculous name, isn't it?" She tried not to notice just how close he was. He smelled like snow and fresh air. "You want to know the worst part?"
"What?"
"When I take her to the dog park everyone knows her name, but they don't know mine. So when they see us they always say, 'Hi, Princess.' And, because she can't respond, I always end up answering."
Amy laughed. "You do?"
He nodded with a little half-smile. "Yeah. If I'd known…"
"So, the name?"
"Right." He held out another treat as Princess started to take too much interest in the printer paper. Princess raced back to his side and sat down, all her attention focused on his hand. "She was my sister's dog. One of those shelter dog drives. My sister adopted her spur of the moment. But she forgot to check what the pet restrictions were for her apartment building. Turns out she wasn't allowed to have a dog over twenty-five pounds. And since Princess will be twice that full-grown, well…" He shrugged.