by R. R. Banks
And being able to work with her, in this quaint little bookstore that I loved, was a dream come true for my younger self. I had to admit, though I was older and a little more cynical and jaded, stepping foot through that door and into the bookstore made me feel a bit better. Like maybe everything wasn't all bad and that there was still magic in the world – all you had to do was open yourself up to it.
It was one reason I was looking forward to working at Mary's store – I wanted to recapture that feeling of magic and wonder the world had burned out of me. I wanted to believe in magic and happily ever afters again.
“I'm so glad you were able to start right away,” Mary said, handing me a name tag. “It's been a madhouse since Irma left a month ago. Poor thing, she never did recover from that fall.”
Irma Swanson was also a familiar face around these parts. If it wasn't Mary working the counter at One More Chapter, it was Irma. Had been seemingly forever. Until recently, that was. Paula told me that Irma fell during an ice storm the previous winter and wasn't going to be able to come back to work – hence, the job opening.
“I'm so sorry to hear about her hip,” I said, shaking my head. “She always had a kind word for anyone who walked through that door. She's a lovely, lovely woman.”
“She's going to be missed, that's for sure,” Mary said with a deep sigh. “But we all grow old at some point. It's just a fact of life. Nobody ever escapes Father Time.”
“I'm afraid so,” I said.
“Anyway, not to ruin the good mood, so let's get you trained on the cash register, shall we?” she started, seeming to perk up a bit. “It's simple, a bit old-fashioned really, but pretty easy to figure out. If I can do it, surely a whip smart young woman like yourself can, right?”
“I'm a fast learner, Mary,” I said.
Being there just made me happy. I couldn't explain it, especially since I loved teaching so much. But being inside this familiar bookstore with a friendly face, breathing in the aroma of books that saturated the air, and getting that small, faint, yet undeniable spark of magic inside of me again – it's just what I needed after everything that had gone down in my life.
My first day at the bookstore felt like a new beginning for me – a new chapter. As Mary showed me around and trained me on the store operations, I realized that I could be happy there. I didn't need a man. I didn't need a fancy career or an apartment in the city to be happy. Simply working at a tiny little bookstore in a small coastal town was enough for me. At least for the moment.
~ooo000ooo~
“I'm just going to run and grab some lunch,” Mary said. “Are you okay on your own, Rose? Can I bring something back for you?”
“No, I'm good. But thank you,” I said with a chuckle. “And I'll do my very best to not burn the place down while you're gone.”
I heard the bell on the door jingle as Mary left, teasing me back with a, “Better not!” before she left.
A new shipment of books had come in that morning and needed to be received in and shelved. I held one of the books to my nose and inhaled deeply, feeling a smile crossing my face. I loved the smell of books, and as I opened another box, I couldn't help but close my eyes and take in the scent. Some might find it strange, but I found it to be one of the many perks of working in a bookstore. There was just something about the smell of a book that was indescribably wonderful to me.
The bell over the door jingled again, letting me someone had come inside. I laughed as I turned, expecting to see Mary rushing back in for her keys or something else she'd forgotten. The woman had a million things running through her brain every minute of every day and was sometimes a little scatterbrained because of it.
“Didn't trust me after all, did you –”
I stopped speaking immediately when I saw that it hadn't been Mary who entered the store after all. It was a man. A tall man, built like a football player. He had long, dark hair that fell to his shoulders, tan skin, and eyes that were darker than the sky at midnight. He wasn't the kind of man I would have expected to see wandering the bookstore. A sports bar or strip club maybe, but not a bookstore. And yet, there he was. And he stared back at me, equally as surprised by my presence apparently.
“Hello, I'm sorry, I thought you were Mary,” I said, unable to meet his gaze without blushing. “Welcome to One More Chapter. Let me know if I can help you find anything today.”
“Where's Mary?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “Or Irma?”
“Mary went out to grab something for lunch,” I said. “And Irma had to take medical leave, unfortunately, and likely won't be back. Not anytime soon, anyway.”
He walked closer to me, staring me down and I watched as his eyes slid down to my name tag. Instead of letting his eyes roam the rest of my body though – something I thought men were unable to stop themselves from doing because of some genetic predisposition – his eyes moved back up to mine, his gaze holding me in place. As he stared into my eyes, I felt my heart stutter slightly and a breath catch in my throat. His gaze was so direct. So intense. So penetrating. I got the idea that, as he stared at me, he was seeing right through me. Was staring into the depths of my soul.
“Rose. You must be new around here,” he said. “I haven't seen you in town before.”
“Uhh, yeah,” I said. “Just moved here actually.”
“Oh? And what brings you to Black Salmon Falls?”
He loomed over me, his presence large and intimidating. He caused me to back up against the bookshelf just to give myself some breathing room. Once upon a time, I might not have minded a tall, dark and handsome man cornering me in an empty bookstore. But things were different now. Everything had changed. And I didn't want to give off the wrong idea, especially to one of those so-called dangerous men, as my aunt liked to call them.
She loved the town and most of the people who lived there, but she'd never had anything nice to say about “those guys.” I got the distinct impression from what she'd said in her many diatribes about them, that her words were mainly rooted in fear. For some reason, she feared some of the men in town. And though I didn't know any of them by name, I had no doubt in my mind that this was one of those guys she spoke of. Something instinctive within me just told me it was.
“My aunt, actually,” I said. “Paula. Paula Simmons.”
“Ah, right, Paula,” he said, taking a step back and giving me a half smile. “She's your aunt? Nice woman. Don't know her very well, but she's always been very pleasant. Sad to hear about your Uncle Raymond though. He was a good man.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling uneasy that he seemed to know so much about me. Small towns. It was eerie that everyone knew so much about everybody else's life. “He was.”
The man reached out his hand, and I shook it, marveling at the way his enormous paw enveloped mine entirely. He gripped my hand tightly, almost too tight, causing me a little bit of discomfort. But I could tell by the look on his face that it wasn't intentional – he apparently, just didn't know his own strength.
“Asher. Asher Blackwood,” he said. “My family owns one of the canneries in town.”
Blackwood. Yes, I knew that name. Heard it a time or two when I was younger and bouncing around town with my aunt. They were a prominent family, a wealthy family. In fact, they were one of the wealthiest and most prominent in town, truth be told. And yes, my aunt still warned me to stay away from them for reasons she'd never fully delve into. I was curious, but didn't want to press. The subject of people like the Blackwoods seemed to unnerve her a bit. And in her condition, I didn't want to add to her stress.
“It's nice to meet you, Asher,” I said.
I couldn't help but stare into his dark chocolate colored eyes. His face was almost too beautiful to be real. It was as if someone had carved it from stone and it was perfectly chiseled – right down to the perfect cheekbones and strong jaw. He was a beautiful man, there was no question about that.
Stop it, Rose. Stop staring, I chided himself. I feared that if I k
ept staring at him like that and blushing the way I was – the burning in my cheeks told me I was most definitely blushing – he was going to think I was interested in him. And I wasn't. Okay, maybe I was – a little bit. But it was only because he was so beautiful to look at. What normal, warm-blooded woman wouldn't be into him – even if only a little?
But I knew that I shouldn't be interested in him. Not in any way, shape, or form. And not just because of what my aunt said – because I wasn't anywhere near ready to venture down that path again. Not with any man. No matter how gorgeous he was to look at. It took some effort, but I managed to pry my eyes away from him, focusing on the floor beneath my feet instead.
“Uhh well, I better get back to work,” I said, turning back to my box of books. “But let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?”
Asher stepped closer to me – a little too close, honestly. He was most definitely well inside that invisible boundary that marked my comfort zone. But I could smell him and he smelled lovely – like pine trees and musk. No cologne smelled that delicious because it smelled natural, not like some perfumed imitation. No, that was the natural scent of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors.
He reached down into the box of books I was shelving and picked up a copy. “This is what I came in for, actually,” he said. “I'd asked Mary to order it for me.”
I stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head or something. The book in his hands was Welcome to the Universe, a book on astrophysics. While it looked interesting to me – as someone who was fascinated with the stars and space in general – I found it hard to believe someone like Asher would seriously be interested in reading about astronomy and physics. He looked like the kind of guy who'd read Sports Illustrated or some girly magazine. But a hardcore science book? It just didn't fit the mental picture in my head and it was tripping me out.
“Really?” I asked, hoping I kept the sound of skepticism out of my voice. “You're a Neil DeGrasse Tyson fan?”
“What? I don't look like the type who would be? You really should check your assumptions and not judge a book by its cover, Rose,” he said with a knowing smirk as he flipped through the book. “I saw him speak not that long ago actually. Really fascinating presentation. I'll read anything and everything he writes. I only wish I was half as smart as him.”
I shook my head, surprised but also impressed. And yeah, a little embarrassed for making the assumptions I had based on nothing more than the way he looked. I always thought it was wrong when others did it. And yet, there I was doing the exact same thing I'd called many people out for over the years.
“You a fan too?” he asked.
“I've read that book cover-to-cover more times than I can count,” I said.
“That good, eh?”
“I thought so,” I said. “Then again, my interests are considered kind of strange and out there. Most of my friends would rather read something like Fifty Shades or something like that. And they probably wouldn't be caught dead reading some nonfiction book about the universe.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but your friends are dumb, in that case,” he said, holding the book up. “Because this is good reading right here.”
I couldn't help but smile, but I turned away so he wouldn't see the heat in my face that made me think my cheeks were some shade of red not normally found in nature. I walked quickly over to the counter with Asher following behind. He paid for the book, and I tried not to stare too intently at the gorgeous man in front of me. The man who had a mind for astrophysics like I did and was making me feel guilty as hell for making the sort of assumptions about him – based simply on how he looked – that I had.
“Thanks for stopping by, Asher. It was nice to meet you,” I said, slipping his book into a bag and handing it over to him. “Let me know what you think of the book.”
“Will do,” he said with a wink.
He turned to leave, and yes, I stared at his ass as he walked to the door. Sue me. But he had a tight ass and a body that would make Chris Hemsworth jealous – how could a woman not stare?
He turned around suddenly, very likely catching me ogling him as he walked away. I blushed some more and tried to look like I was really concentrating on something other than his backside. I was doing my best to recover some of my dignity – and was failing pretty hard at it.
“Rose?” he said, making my name sound prettier and more exotic than it actually was. “It's been a pleasure to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay in Black Salmon Falls, and I hope to run into you again sometime.”
The bell jingled as he left the store and I stood there grinning like a fool, hoping he would stop by again. Not just because I wanted to hear his thoughts on the book, but just because I'd enjoyed our conversation – brief as it was. And yes, because I'd enjoyed the view too, and wouldn't mind another peek.
A few minutes later, Mary came inside, sandwich from the deli a few doors down in hand, and gave me an odd look.
“What's that look on your face for?” she asked me.
“Oh nothing,” I said. “Just happy to be working here.”
Chapter Five
Asher
“Dad, you home?” I called out.
A slight tingle of nervousness rolled through me when I saw the front door had been left open. My father was usually at the cannery this time of day, I often had the place to myself. I walked in, cautiously, my body tensed and prepared to fight if it came to that.
“Yes, I'm here,” my father answered.
I breathed a sigh of relief and put my book down on the coffee table. His voice had come from the kitchen, but as I walked down the hallway, that sense of concern flared up within me once more. It looked like a raging bull had run down the hallway, knocking down everything thing in its path.
“Dad, everything okay?” I asked as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.
I found my dear old dad – Marshall Blackwood – sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of whisky in front of him. I noted with a twinge of concern that there was no glass – just the bottle. My dad didn't drink much these days, and when he did, there was often a reason for it. He sat there, like an older version of me, with his fists clenched on the top of the table, a murderous gleam in his eye.
“No,” he said. “Everything is not okay.”
I joined him at the table. “What's going on?”
“You didn't hear yet?” he asked. “God almighty, Asher, this is bad. Real bad.”
“I figured that out by the amount of whisky missing from that bottle,” I said.
I reached for the bottle to put it away – he'd had more than enough. My dad stopped me by grabbing my hand. We stared at one another in a tense silence for a moment before I relented and let go of the bottle. He nodded to himself and let go of me, sitting back in his seat again – picking up the bottle and taking a long pull of it as if just to prove a point – he was still the man in charge. The top of the Blackwood food chain.
“What's going on?” I asked. “Trouble at work?”
“Nah, I wish it was something that mundane,” he scoffed, scratching a beard that had more gray than black in it these days. “It's much worse than that, son. Luke was found dead this morning.”
Luke was my cousin. We were close, having grown up together, though he was a bit older than me. I looked up to Luke and he'd taught me a lot of things about our family, culture, and of course, about women. He was more like a brother than a cousin.
And now he was dead. The news hit me like a solid punch to the gut – nearly taking the wind out of me and putting a lump into my throat.
“What happened?” I asked, feeling like someone had stabbed me in the heart.
“He was murdered,” my dad said. “Found dead in the woods not far from the N'gasso compound.”
“Whoa,” I said, leaning back in my chair, absorbing it all. This was huge. “Any idea who did it?”
“Of course,” my father said. “We know. It was the goddamn N'gasso. People are afra
id just to trespass on N'gasso land, much less kill somebody else on it. I don't see how it could have been anybody but N'gasso.”
My mind shot back to Mariana, my betrothed. Everything was set for me to marry her and the ceremony was supposed to happen within the year. She had already started planning the wedding, and this marriage formed an alliance between the two clans. Why would the N'gasso risk everything by doing something stupid like that? It didn't add up in my head.
“Why would they do something like that?” I asked, still stunned by the revelation. “It doesn't make sense.”
“It makes plenty of sense,” my father said. “They hate us. They always have. They feel like we impede on their territory with our business and –”
“But I'm marrying Mariana in less than a year,” I said. “We are combining our clans, uniting as one. Why would they risk that? We are going to be the most powerful clan in the nation, if not the world, once Mariana and I wed. Killing one of our people – and letting him be found on their land – it doesn't make sense to me.”
My dad sighed and stared down at his hands. They were bleeding – likely from putting them through a glass window somewhere, which he was apt to do. My father had a wicked temper – one of the less charming qualities that I inherited from him. But I'd been learning to temper my emotions. Control them a little better than he did. If I was to be the clan Chief one day, I wanted to be sure I ruled by reason and logic, rather than emotion and passion.
I didn't blame him for being so upset. I was pissed. Luke was my cousin, my blood, my friend. I just didn't want to start something with the N'gasso without all the facts. I didn't want to start throwing accusations without having the truth of the situation on my side.
“I don't want us going after the wrong people, that's all,” I said. “This could cause a war between the two clans, dad. If we went to war with the N'gasso and they weren't behind this, everything we worked for would be over. Gone. We'd lose more of our men. Resources. We could even conceivably be wiped out as a clan. And for what? Let's make sure they're truly guilty before we go after them. It just doesn't make sense.”