The Replacement Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  After a chapter of a hilarious Susan Elizabeth Phillips book, I felt somewhat calmer. I straightened my ponytail, washed and dried my face, and put on some lip gloss.

  When I re-entered the shop Dallas was gone. Picasso and a couple of the other art kids had arrived, settling in to sketch and argue with each other.

  Picasso caught my eye as I glanced around the store. “Vespa Guy said he’d be right back.” I was relieved, having been embarrassed by the length of my time-out.

  “Thanks.” I shrugged like I didn’t care, but a tiny wave of relief snuck through me.

  I sorted through the pile of books Jake had returned. As I stood up to return them to the shelves, Dallas’s voice stopped me.

  “Renee Larson.”

  “What?” I spun around. He towered over me, holding two smoothie cups from The Jumping Bean.

  “My second guess.” He handed me a smoothie. “Renee Larson. Author of the vampire hunter mysteries.”

  I laughed. “Not even. Mom’s picky about vampire books. She definitely isn’t a fan of Renee’s.” I sipped from the smoothie straw. “Chocolate and peanut butter! Thank you. How’d you know it’s my favorite?”

  He shrugged, his eyes darting toward the jar of Reeses’ candy. “Lucky guess. You looked like you could use it after Jake left.” He settled himself into his chair, then pinned me with those sparkly eyes.

  Wow. Nerd hot and thoughtful. Dallas’s lips were moving, but the Star Trek red alert warning blaring at maximum volume in my mind drowned him out.

  “Sorry, what?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I asked why your mom isn’t a fan of the Larson books.” He sucked on his straw while I tried not to stare at his lips.

  I sat down, looking away so I didn’t have to watch his mouth on the straw. “It’s hard to explain. Mom’s sort of a vampire purist.”

  “A what?”

  “You really want to hear about this?”

  He nodded. “Sounds like I need to, for business reasons.” His lips quirked ever so slightly, and I hoped that meant he’d forgiven me for the Bill Gates comment. And the McNerd nickname.

  I took a breath. “Okay, so basically there are readers who love the whole new-age, sparkly vampire thing. But some readers are anti-sparkle. Purists. They’re all about the horror and the blood and the super scary stuff. The original vampire legends, Dracula, Nosferatu, all that stuff. Some of them blame Twilight for ruining vampires forever.”

  “Wow!” Dallas exhaled when I finished. “I had no idea it was so complex.” He paused, then gave me a sly smile that made my stomach flip over. “How about you? Are you a purist? Sparkly or scary?”

  As I tried to feign indifference to Dallas’s smile and sparkly eyes, I was tempted to answer Team Sparkle. Where was my inner Spock when I needed him?

  “I’m not as opinionated as my mom. I read all kinds of books. As long as the romance is awesome, I’m happy.”

  Dallas turned back to his laptop. He nodded but said nothing as his fingers flew over the keys. Was he blushing?

  ...

  We spent the rest of his shift touring the store. He took notes, muttering about databases. When I showed him the romance section, he focused intently on scribbling in his notebook. I couldn’t resist taking two books off the shelves to explain how the same author might write under different pen names.

  “Why, um, do I need to know this?” he asked, color creeping up his neck as he glanced between the two covers. One cover had a swirly font title with a simple line drawing of a flower. The other cover, however, almost made me blush. A bare-chested, impossibly ripped guy bent over a gorgeous naked woman barely covered by a red silk sheet.

  “Sometimes customers want to read every book by an author, but they might not know the author writes under more than one name. Maybe you can figure out a way we can indicate that in the database? So we can let readers know.”

  “Cross-listing,” he said, scribbling more notes as I reshelved the books. I wondered what he thought of me reading books with covers of half-naked people. I didn’t read all the romances, especially the super steamy ones that sometimes made me cringe, but I read a ton of review blogs so I knew which ones to stock.

  I thought of the snippets of conversations Dallas had overheard about morning tongue action and Jaz saying Iggy was the last guy who’d want to drag me to the beach after dark. It was my turn to blush, wondering if Dallas had misinterpreted things.

  Before Jake, my love life had been mostly non-existent. The romance in my life existed between the covers, all right. The covers of books.

  I returned to the desk and busied myself sorting through Mom’s pile of mail.

  “I need to get going,” Dallas said. “I have to babysit my sister.” His arm accidentally brushed against my back as he moved behind me, making me freeze.

  “Your internal timer go off again?” I joked, willing us both to stop thinking about that book cover with the red silk sheets because I knew we were.

  He stopped loading his backpack. “It never lets me down.”

  “So you’re part robot?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Not all McNerds have artificial parts.” He finally gave me a real smile, the first one all day. “Only a few of us get chosen for implants. I got the timer.”

  I laughed nervously, tucking a wayward curl behind my ear. His steady gaze didn’t waver. Had he forgiven me for the nickname? I hoped so. “How old is your sister?”

  “Seven.”

  I smiled hesitantly. “That’s great. I always wanted a big brother when I was little.”

  “You’re an only? Lucky you.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.” After my parents had divorced, I’d wanted a sibling, but eventually I’d found companionship in my books.

  He watched me thoughtfully, then pulled his phone from his pocket. “So are you working Saturday? I’m busy in the morning, but I could come by that afternoon.”

  I hesitated. Saturdays were always busy plus this Saturday was Lonely Hearts book club. But maybe it would be good for him to see us in action on a busier day. “I’m doing my book club from one o’clock until two thirty. But you can come by after that.”

  “See you then.” He paused. “I’ll probably see you around school, too.”

  “Right.” I nodded, toying with Jaz’s fraying friendship bracelet. She and I needed to have a serious chat after the way she’d totally embarrassed me today.

  As soon as he left, I retrieved the purple RC notebook. Homework could wait. I needed to put the Spock brain to work before the hormones took over and wrecked my life once again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HUNKALICIOUSHEROES.COM

  Romance Reviews for Ravenous Readers

  SCORCHED BY FIRE by Declan Reever

  Reviewed by Sweet Feet

  Rating: Crocs*

  This is a solid entry in the shape-shifter genre, though it didn’t break the mold (and melt my e-reader) like Thea Harrison’s Elder Races series. Still, it kept my interest, especially once Kevin the beta dragon showed up. I know, right? A dragon named Kevin? He’s super cute, trying to get used to his dragon-ness and struggling to keep the fire-breathing in check every time he encounters the girl he’s crushing on. He’s terrified he’ll burn her clothes off or set her hair on fire. (Teaser: one of those things actually happens the first time they kiss).

  The main dragon, Ranz, is your usual scary alpha shape-shifter dude, covered with tattoos and swinging a bad attitude around like a club. He’s saved from his badass ways by the love of a good woman, of course. And some super-hot bedroom scenes that are technically for older readers (don’t say I didn’t warn you).

  I’m on Team Kevin for this one. Even though he’s not the main character, he has enough scenes to make it worth your time. I hope he gets his own book. Are you listening, Ms. Reever?

  *Rating Scale:

  ◆ Granny Shoes - safe for Grandmas

  ◆ Birks - lots of emotion and navel-gazing

  ◆ Wing
Tips - bossy but irresistible heroes

  ◆ Crocs - Funny heroes, imperfect heroines

  ◆ Vans – testy heroes full of smarcasm

  ◆ Go-go boots - my highest rating: perfection

  “It was logical to cultivate multiple options.”

  —Spock

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Thursday, August 28

  “How’re things going with Dallas?” Mom asked. We sat at the kitchen table, Mom sipping tea and me eating cereal. Hiddles nibbled from his bowl, pausing occasionally to hiss at us.

  I swallowed quickly, trying not to choke. “What do you mean?”

  Mom’s brow wrinkled. “At the store? Showing him the card system?”

  “Oh.” I let out a relieved sigh. “It’s going okay, I guess.”

  Mom refilled her cup from the teapot. “Just okay? He seemed quite capable when I interviewed him. I’m planning to check in with him on Saturday; he emailed me to let me know his schedule.”

  Of course he did. Mr. Always-on-Time probably worried I’d forget to tell her. “He’s definitely smart,” I said. “He asks a lot of questions about how we do stuff.” I shrugged. No way could I tell Mom how much he rattled my composure. “He talked about databases yesterday. He definitely seems to have a plan.”

  Mom looked relieved. “Good. We also need to do an inventory after hours. I’m hoping the two of you can work a couple of late nights together to get it done.”

  I stopped mid-chew. “What?”

  “Inventory, Vivvy. I can’t even remember the last time I did it. We need to record every single book in the store and categorize all the books by genre. We should do it all in one shot, but that won’t work with my writing schedule and you at school.”

  “Um, maybe you and I can do the inventory. Or I could ask Jaz and Amy to help.” Mom gave me a questioning look. “Dallas is busy. He, um, always seems to have places to go. Cello lessons. Babysitting his sister. Stuff.”

  Mom raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re getting to know him, however, it’s critical that he participate in the inventory, Vivvy. He’s the one creating the database, after all.”

  I fiddled with my spoon. “Isn’t there software you can buy that already does what you need? Did you have to hire someone to design it for you?”

  Mom looked surprised. “Well, yes, there is. But I’d rather give that money to someone local. You know how I feel about supporting local businesses.”

  I snorted. “Dallas isn’t exactly a business.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean, Vivvy.” She sipped her tea. “Besides, I won’t be surprised to see him running his own business some day.”

  Hiddles meowed from the floor. Grateful for the distraction, I made a few kissing noises to entice him onto my lap, but he ignored me and stalked away, swishing his tail indignantly.

  “Okay, whatever,” I said, not meeting Mom’s eyes. I didn’t want her deciphering my feelings about working late nights with Dallas in the store. Just the two of us. In the dark. Well, it wouldn’t technically be dark…but metaphorically….

  “Vivian, if Dallas is making you uncomfortable in some way—”

  “What? No!” I yelped. I didn’t want her assuming anything bad about the guy. “No, it’s not that,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm. “He’s nice. Funny. You don’t need to plot his death with poison or anything like that.”

  Mom frowned, studying me with her hyper-observant writer face, looking for secret motivations and underlying agendas. I tried my best to look totally uninterested in Dallas as anything other than a coworker.

  “All right.” Mom brushed her curls behind her ear. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, sweetie. I do, completely.”

  My face burned, remembering how many times I’d snuck out to meet Jake. “You don’t need to worry about anything happening between Dallas and me.”

  Mom nodded. “He seems like a great guy. Probably much nicer than whoever made you cry.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I try not to be overprotective but I hate to see—”

  “Um, Mom? Why are we having this conversation? It’s not relevant.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Not relevant? Sweetie, you’re seventeen. Trust me, it’s relevant.”

  I jumped up from the table and put my cereal bowl in the sink. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. Jaz is determined to spot Fisk Vilhelm on the beach this morning.”

  “Oh, I heard about that. He’s staying at The Lodge.” Somehow Mom always knew who was at The Lodge.

  “Really?” That was two confirmed reports: both Dallas and Mom. Jaz would be thrilled.

  ...

  Jaz and I dismounted our bikes. She’d brought her opera glasses for spying today. She wore an old Led Zeppelin shirt with a mini skirt and wedge sandals. I had no idea how she rode her bike in those shoes, but somehow she managed.

  “So do you forgive me?” Jaz asked. “For outing the McNerd nickname to Dallas?”

  “I wanted to kill you, Jaz.”

  “I know, I know. I totally suck. I just start talking sometimes and I can’t stop.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. “Was it awful after I left? Did he freeze you with Kryptonite?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? Besides, Kryptonite doesn’t freeze. It weakens, and it weakens Superman, not the other way around.”

  She grinned. “Whatever. You have to admit he’s totally rocking that Clark Kent/Superman vibe. Did you see those biceps?”

  “No comment.”

  “Forgive me?” she begged.

  “Yes, I forgive you but promise you won’t talk about my RC mission in front of anyone else, okay?”

  She crossed a finger over her heart. “I swear. On the hot body of Dallas the McNerd.”

  I snorted; I never could stay mad at her. “Look!” I exclaimed, pointing. Way in the distance, a guy ran along the surf’s edge. It could’ve been anyone, but I loved messing with her.

  Jaz leaned over the parapet, opera glasses glued to her face. “Oh my God! I think it’s Fisk.”

  I laughed. “No way.” I squinted in the sunlight and tried to focus on the guy. I supposed it could be him.

  “We’re going to be late.” I grabbed my bike from its resting placing against the wall. “Let’s blaze, stalker.” We raced each other to the bottom of the hill, laughing.

  “I’m listing that as an official sighting,” Jaz declared as we hurried across the school courtyard.

  “No way. It doesn’t count. I refuse to sign.”

  Jaz liked to have witnesses sign her notebook to confirm the sightings, but I only signed when I was sure she wasn’t deliriously hallucinating.

  “Come on, Viv,” she whispered as we slunk into homeroom. “You know it was him.”

  Ms. Kilgore paused her roll call as we slid into our desks. “How nice of you girls to join us. Don’t mind us; we’ll wait while you finish your conversation.”

  Laughter rolled across the room like an ocean wave. Jaz and I shared an embarrassed look. Much as I loved Ms. Kilgore’s scariness, I didn’t like being on the receiving end.

  Ms. Kilgore resumed her droning roll call. I shot another sideways glance at Jaz and caught Toff grinning at me. He reminded me of a deranged human puppy. If he had a tail, it would always be wind-milling, knocking over everything.

  Toff caught up to me in the hall after we left homeroom. “You coming to the surf comp on Saturday? It’s just a qualifier, but it’ll be cool.”

  His wavy blond hair was still damp from morning surf practice. I swore he smelled like seaweed. The guy was part dolphin, which was why I’d nicknamed him Flipper when we were kids.

  “No, I’ve gotta work.”

  He gave me a fake devastated look. “Man, Viv, I’d think my almost-sister would be more supportive.” He winked at me, his sky blue eyes lit with laughter.

  “Right.” I laughed with him. “Maybe another time.”

  “Guess I’ll see you for dinner on Saturday then.”

  I stopped outside my classroom door
and stared up at him. “You will?” I noticed a few girls shooting me envious looks. I didn’t blame them. The shredder gods had graced Toff with the full package of athleticism and hotness, spiked with goofy humor.

  He leaned against the wall, smiling down at me. “Yeah, my dad and I are coming for dinner. Your mom didn’t tell you?”

  I shook my head. “She’s in the middle of first-draft frenzy, so sometimes she forgets stuff.”

  Toff’s grin deepened. “Researching cross-bows?”

  “No, that was the last book. It’s poison now.”

  “Cool.”

  When our parents started dating, I worried it would be awkward, but Toff took it in stride. He always found something to tease me about, but he’d never tried to move us out of the friend zone. He dated girls on the surf team; he definitely had a type and I wasn’t it.

  The chimes sounded from the speaker mounted right above us in the hallway, making me jump.

  “Later, Wordworm,” Toff said, pushing off the wall.

  “Ciao, Flipper.”

  He tossed me a lazy smile over his shoulder then sauntered down the hallway.

  “Do you want to put him on the list?” Amy whispered. She’d followed me into Lit class after Toff disappeared.

  “Toff,” Amy mouthed as she pantomimed writing on a piece of paper.

  Jaz had suggested the same thing and I’d shot her down. I considered my criteria: smart, funny, no higher than a five on the zing meter. I knew Toff was smart, but he was one of those guys who hid their intelligence under layers of jokes. He was a surfing savant, obviously, spending most of his waking hours in the water or at his dad’s surf shop. He was definitely funny. But more like class clown funny, not banter funny.

  God, I was a dork. How many girls ruled out a guy because he didn’t excel at witty banter?