The Replacement Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “Yeah.” I sighed.

  He tilted his head. “Uh oh. Even worse than a best friend, isn’t it? I’m guessing he was more than a friend?”

  “What are you, psychic?” I couldn’t believe I was talking to Fisk Vilhelm so easily.

  He laughed. “You know how many love-struck girls I see on tour? You’ve got that same sad look in your eyes.” He lowered his shades to look me in the eyes. “I’ll tell you a secret. Whatever you did, he’ll probably forgive you.”

  I stared at him, speechless.

  He grinned. “I’ve gotta go. Vivian, right? Your mom owns the bookstore? Maybe I’ll try to sneak in there some day.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Incognito.”

  I nodded, still at a loss for words.

  He shoved his sunglasses back up to cover his eyes. “Take care of my gran. I’ll make sure to leave plenty of crack money here with Ms. Garcia.”

  “Okay,” I finally managed to speak. “I’ll take care of her.” I smiled. “And I never saw you here.”

  He returned my Vulcan salute, then he was gone.

  ...

  Even though Dallas had texted me that he wasn’t coming to work, he still showed up, startling me when he materialized at the counter.

  “I thought you weren’t coming today,” I muttered, yanking out my ear buds.

  “Temporary rage quit,” he said. “I’m over it.” He drummed his fingers on the counter and leaned against it, staring down at me.

  “Rage quit?” I forced myself to meet his eyes.

  “Gamer term. McNerd lingo.” He didn’t give me a full smile, but I thought I saw his lips twitch. “You want anything from the Bean?”

  Surprised, I stuttered out a reply. “Uh…coffee? Me? No. Too much. Caffeine. I’ve had plenty today, I mean.” I closed my eyes briefly. Talk much, Viv?

  “Okay. Back in a few.”

  I held my breath until the jingle of the door’s bells signaled his exit. I exhaled slowly. I thought of what Fisk said. “Whatever you did, he’ll probably forgive you.” I needed to apologize. Not for the article because that was funny, and he knew it was coming. But the whole thing with Drew and the talent show…I should definitely apologize for that.

  Spock’s face loomed in my mind. “If you must apologize, Vivian, why agonize over it? Simply do it and move ahead with your mission.”

  Mission? I was having plenty of doubts about that, especially after Jaz’s lecture. But Spock was right. Since Drew and Henry were busts, and Toff and Iggy were off the list, I’d better find some new targets so I could make a decision and stop the madness.

  Hiddles wandered in, mewing loudly. I glared at him. “He’ll be back soon. Cool your jets, cat.” Hiddles hissed, then disappeared down the horror/thriller aisle. How appropriate.

  I resumed my data entry. We’d planned another late night of inventory and data entry this week. Another night of just the two of us. My hormones were already in party mode, trying on dresses and shoes, storming around inside me like a deranged herd of sorority girls.

  An older couple who’d shared a couch while sorting through potential purchases approached the counter. The woman set a stack of books on the counter just as Dallas returned with a giant green smoothie. I tried to ignore his all-consuming presence as he settled himself in the chair next to me.

  “We’re finally ready,” the woman said. Her husband stood next to her engrossed in a spy thriller.

  “I’m glad you found something you liked.” I stood up to tally the books. “Are you visiting Shady Cove?”

  She nodded. “We’re doing a coast tour, so we’re just here overnight. I read about this store in a travel magazine.” She glanced around, then leaned forward to whisper. “Is it true Macy Gardner owns this store?”

  I could almost feel Dallas holding in his laughter next to me. I tried to look surprised by her question.

  “No.” I glanced at the woman. “That’s a common rumor, but it’s not true.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faded.

  “Told you.” Her husband glanced up from his book. “Can’t believe everything you read. Probably some rumor started by the owner to drum up business.”

  I tensed, feeling defensive.

  “Actually, this store is owned by an author,” Dallas said. We all turned to stare at him. He narrowed his eyes at the husband. “She’s very well known, but we have to sign a secrecy oath to work here. To protect her privacy.” He shot me a look full of such innocence and mischievousness combined that I practically melted.

  “Um, yeah, he’s right.” I turned back to the wife. “I’m not…we’re not…allowed to say, or we’d lose our jobs. But I can tell you she’s a much better writer than Macy Gardner.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I wish you could give me a hint.”

  The husband rolled his eyes. “What a scam.”

  “Mysteries,” Dallas said, standing up and moving close to me, so close my knees almost buckled. He reached across the counter to take the cash the woman held. “Will that be all for you today?” He counted out her change and stuck bookmarks inside her books like I always did.

  “Thank you, dear.” The woman smiled at Dallas in a grandmotherly way as her husband turned and headed for the door.

  “Thanks for shopping with us,” I said to their retreating backs, recovering some of my composure.

  “What a jerk,” Dallas said as the door closed behind them.

  I nodded. “No wonder she stocked up on romances.”

  Dallas crossed his arms over his chest, pinning me with the deadly green eyes. “You’re implying people who read romances are unhappy with their own love lives?”

  My entire body blushed under his penetrating stare. “No…I didn’t mean…I just…” I took a breath. “People read for all sorts of reasons.” I sank into my chair. “Anyway. Thanks for standing up for my mom.” I forced a wobbly smile. “Even though you still don’t know her pen name.”

  “You’re welcome. And not yet, but I’m still working on it.” Hiddles appeared out of nowhere as soon as Dallas sat down, jumping onto his lap. I glared at my disloyal cat, who watched me through slitted eyes.

  I put my ear buds back in to listen to the hot cello duo, lying to myself that my music choice had nothing to do with Dallas. Dallas glanced at me, then dug out ear buds from his backpack and plugged them into his phone. I wondered what he was listening to but felt too shy to ask.

  The bell on the front door jingled and we both glanced up to see Mrs. Sloane enter carrying her tote bag full of books. She waved at me and winked at Dallas. I removed my ear buds and hurried around the counter to meet her. After she settled into her usual chair, I poured her a cup of coffee and sat down across from her.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” She sipped from her mug. “I had to come in person to tell you. Everyone at the center is so excited about your book service. Ms. Garcia told everyone about it after you left.”

  “Wow.” I leaned back against the chair, feeling a tingle of excitement. “That’s great news.” I paused. It probably would be best to wait to do my first visit until we’d finished the inventory. If I was going to be lugging books back and forth, I wanted to be able to track things online, not on the index cards.

  I glanced at Dallas, who still had his ear buds in. His brow furrowed slightly as he stared at his screen. God, he was adorable.

  “Stop it, Vivian. As I’ve told you before, Vulcans do not swoon.”

  Stupid Spock.

  Mrs. Sloane gave me a knowing smile. “Have you two gone out yet?” She tilted her head toward Dallas. “On a date?”

  Horrified, I whipped my head toward Dallas. Thank God his ear buds were still in, but for a second I thought I saw his lips quirk. I turned back to Mrs. Sloane. “No! No, of course not. He’s just…we’re just…um, he’s you know, working here, that’s all. There’s nothing going on.” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with a silver-haired little old lady. Then I considered the number of romances she consumed and realized I sh
ouldn’t be at all surprised.

  “Well, the sooner you can start the bookmobile business, the better,” Mrs. Sloane said.

  “Bookmobile?”

  She smiled. “That’s what we used to call the mobile libraries. They were giant RVs stuffed full of books. They’d park in front of our school when I was a kid. We’d pack into the bookmobile like sardines, so excited to get new books.”

  “Cool.” I’d never heard of that.

  “Have you finished Amy’s book for this week’s meeting?” Mrs. Sloane took a sip of coffee.

  I nodded. “I liked it, even though it was kind of old school.”

  Mrs. Sloane’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “There’s something about a brooding hero who takes charge. I think we’re biologically programmed to respond. Especially when they rescue us from the evil villain.”

  I laughed and darted a glance at Dallas. His lips were definitely quirking. Was he eavesdropping? His ear buds were still in, but I didn’t hear the tap-tap of his keyboard.

  “We need to finish the inventory,” I said. “But once that’s done, I’ll be there.” I shot another glance at Dallas and caught him staring at me. He was totally eavesdropping. Nosy McNerd. My eyes met his. Nosy, hot McNerd.

  Swallowing, I turned back to Mrs. Sloane. “I’m guessing just another week or so. It depends on Dallas’s schedule since he’s helping.” I waited, expecting him to speak up about his schedule, but he didn’t. Instead the sound of the keyboard clicking resumed. I snuck a glance and saw him frowning at his screen.

  I remembered what he’d said about battles and strategies. I had a feeling I was outmatched.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said loudly. “Maybe we should talk about our favorite hero types at the next book club meeting. I’m going to set up a shelf of highlighted books based on hero types.”

  Mrs. Sloane’s eyes lit up. “What a marvelous idea!” She reached up to pat her hair. “But I’m not sure if I can pick just one type.”

  I nodded, cocking my ears for the sound of Dallas’s keyboard, which was silent again. I smirked with satisfaction. Spock’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Vivian, it appears you’re becoming distracted from your mission. I sense an awkward attempt at flirtation. Perhaps you should reconsider this conversation.”

  I didn’t want to listen to Spock right now; I wanted to trap Dallas. But why? Why was playing this game with him so intriguing? Like I didn’t know.

  “Well, we know one of your favorites,” I said, ignoring Spock’s imaginary glare. “The brooding hero.”

  Mrs. Sloane nodded. “An oldie but a goodie.”

  We giggled together. Dallas resumed typing, but sporadically.

  “What about you?” Mrs. Sloane asked. “I remember how much you loved that book with the hero who had supernatural fighting abilities.”

  I sighed, remembering that hero. “My super ninja,” I said. He was definitely one of my favorites. I didn’t dare look at Dallas because he’d stopped typing again.

  “I’m sure you can’t pick just one hero type, either,” Mrs. Sloane said.

  “Definitely not.” I stretched my arms above my head, thinking. “I guess I like complicated heroes. You know, not just one archetype.”

  She nodded. “Moody and brooding but also sensitive.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “Super awesome ninja powers and an artist all rolled into one. Plus an awesome dancer.”

  Mrs. Sloane laughed. “You know those people don’t exist in real life, my dear. That’s why we read novels.”

  “Maybe not. But a girl can hope.”

  A loud feline protest sounded, followed by a thump as Hiddles landed on the floor. Mrs. Sloane and I turned toward Dallas, who’d stood up. He stared at his phone, then glanced at us. “I’ll be back. I need to make a call.” Then he turned and disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

  Curiosity consumed me as I wondered who he was calling. Spock’s voice interrupted my reverie. “His affairs are not your concern, Vivian. You’re veering dangerously off course from your mission.”

  Mrs. Sloane glanced out the windows to the parking lot where the senior center’s driver waited patiently, flipping through a magazine. “I should hurry up and pick out a book. We need to stop at the market before we go back to the center.”

  I nodded and hoisted myself out of the chair. “Pick your hero poison.” I gestured toward the romances.

  “How about a pirate? It’s been ages since I read one of those.”

  “Swashbuckling historical or modern-day corporate raider?”

  “Hmm.” She tapped her chin with her finger. “Let’s try one of each.”

  “You got it.” I disappeared down the aisle, trying not to obsess over who Dallas was talking with.

  Maybe it was just his mom. But he wouldn’t disappear for that conversation; I’d already overheard several of those when-will-you-be-home and can-you-stop-at-the-store chats.

  Dallas didn’t return until after I’d walked Mrs. Sloane out to the car. He stalked inside, vibrating with an intense energy I’d never seen before.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He moved behind my chair, leaning down to grab his backpack. “I’ve got to go. It’s kind of an emergency.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He scowled. “Yeah. But I’ve gotta do something for a few hours.” He straightened, looming over me. “I know you want to finish this inventory. I can come back and work late tonight.”

  I swallowed as I looked up at him. He didn’t seem like an adorkable McNerd right now. The energy pulsing out of him was powerful and intense and very un-nerdy.

  “You don’t have to—” I started to say, but he cut me off, waving a hand impatiently.

  “I know I don’t have to. But I’m committed to finishing this project. I gave your mom my word.” He closed his laptop and shoved it into his backpack. “And you,” he said, almost under his breath.

  “You sure everything’s okay, Dallas?”

  He stilled briefly when I said his name. “Yeah. Just something I need to do.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed his helmet. “Text me later about tonight. I’ll be available after seven.”

  I nodded, discombobulated by this new Dallas I hadn’t seen before.

  Hiddles jumped onto the empty chair and Dallas reached down to rub his ears. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually bail like this.”

  I shrugged. “You’re not bailing. Just pressing the pause button.”

  “Thanks.” His lips curved into a brief smile, then tensed into a thin line again. “Later,” he called over his shoulder, and he was gone.

  “Wow.” I turned to Hiddles, who glared at me. “What was that about?” Hiddles curled into a tight ball of fur on Dallas’s chair. I reached out to rub his head. He made a weird noise in his throat, but he didn’t hiss.

  The door jingled and a group of chattering tourists entered. Hiddles jumped off the chair and disappeared.

  I put on my most welcoming smile, grateful for the distraction.

  ...

  My phone pinged with a text from Dallas at 7:03 p.m. while Mom and I sat at the kitchen table eating dinner. “Inventory?”

  I wanted to tease him about texting three minutes late, but hesitated. I didn’t know where he’d gone this afternoon, and if it was something serious, I shouldn’t joke.

  “No texting during dinner,” Mom said, but she winked when she said it.

  “It’s Dallas. If I don’t reply he’ll blow up my phone with more texts.” I took a sip of juice. “He’s, um, persistent.”

  She nodded. “I’ve noticed. He’s quite disciplined for a teenage boy. Very unusual.” She watched me like a hawk, trying to suss out my feelings for him. Sometimes I hated having a writer for a mom.

  “Let me reply, then I promise no more texting.” My fingers flew across the screen. “Need 2 finish hmwk. Maybe 8-10?”

  “We’re going to work tonight,” I told Mom. “Just for a couple of hours.
We’re almost done.”

  She frowned. “It’s a school night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, I’m not ten years old.”

  She rolled her eyes right back at me. “No kidding. But you still need your rest.”

  “We’ll stop at ten.” I paused. “Ten thirty at the latest. I want to get this done, so I can start the mobile bookstore for the senior center.”

  Mom’s face brightened. “It’s such a great idea, Vivvy. The director was so thrilled when I talked to her.”

  My phone pinged. “C U @ 8.”

  I set my phone aside and dug into my quinoa salad.

  “There’s another surf comp this Saturday,” Mom said. “Do you want to go? I can handle the store.”

  I pictured last week’s scene, with Jake and Claire tongue-fencing. “No thanks. I’d rather work.”

  Mom frowned. “I thought you liked the comps.” Mom tugged at my curls, just like I did when I was unsettled.

  “I do, but Saturdays are busy. I don’t mind working.”

  She waited for me to say more, but I didn’t. Maybe I could just fake an illness for the rest of this week.

  Incurable crushitis.

  “Did I ever tell you that you play a very irritating game of chess, Mr. Spock?” —Captain Kirk

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I entered the store at 8:10 p.m., Dallas had already set up at his laptop, a stack of fantasy novels next to him, typing with Hiddles on his lap. I wondered when Mom had given him a key.

  “Hey.” He glanced up, then refocused on his screen, scowling.

  “Somebody’s grumpy,” I said, sitting next to him.

  “You would be to if you had to write a bunch of stupid college application essays and babysit for your sister and finish this inventory and—” He stopped short, shooting me a guilty look.

  Wow. Okay then. I gulped as I sat next to him. “You didn’t have to come back tonight. I could’ve—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.”

  He wouldn’t look at me, his jaw tight and shoulders rigid. But in spite of his attitude, he smelled like soap and whatever else made him smell way too good. Why had he showered? My face flamed, imagining activities that could cause him to sweat.