by R. R. Banks
Dean nodded. “I can get behind that idea – but what do you have in mind?”
“Just leave it to me,” I said. “I'll do the dirty work. Just make sure that you and your guys stay out of my way and let me operate as I see fit. I'll take care of your problem for you. Sound good?”
Dean, for the most part, was a good man. A man with a solid moral compass. One who didn't condone murder or violence, which is why he became a cop in the first place. As I looked at him, I saw the toll the job was taking on him. He just didn't look well and I had to wonder if these bears had gotten under his skin that deeply. Wondered if they'd pushed his buttons and if he'd allowed his rivalry with Asher Blackwood to be the thing that sent him over the edge. I wondered if it was that frustration with having his hands tied, that was going to allow me to work my magic and do my thing. To solve all of his problems once and for all.
“We stay out of your way?” Dean asked, giving me an uncertain look. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“You trust me, right?” I asked. “You know I stand with you on this deal with the bears, and that I only want what's best for Black Salmon Falls?”
“I do,” he said. “But I also can't ignore trouble when I see it. What kind of sheriff would I be if I just looked the other way when crimes were being committed?”
“What kind of sheriff would you be if you continue to let these goddamn bears run this town, huh?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Listen, once I'm done here, you will be back in charge, man. You will be the law – the undisputed law – and things will be good here in town. I promise you that.”
After a moment's pause, Dean nodded, albeit slowly. “Alright,” he said. “I'll look the other way. On one condition.”
“What's that?”
“Cover your tracks” he said. “And be careful. No innocent person gets hurt or killed – not on my watch. So, you make sure that you and your boys are being extra cautious with the lives of the people in town.”
Innocent person? Because of how he phrased it, I could agree to that. These creatures weren't innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination. And they were most certainly not people either.
“That works for me, brother,” I said with a smile. I reached out and shook his hand. “That works for me.”
Chapter Four
Rose
“I found a job in town today,” I told my aunt over dinner.
“Oh yeah? Doing what?” She pushed her pasta around on the plate, but I noticed that she barely ate a bite.
“I'll be working at the bookstore in town. Nothing glamorous, just helping customers and whatnot, but it shouldn't be too stressful.”
“Good. I'm glad to hear that, dear,” she said, smiling back at me. “Did you go by the school?”
I cringed inwardly at her question. “Uhh no. Not yet,” I stammered. “I'm thinking about taking some time off from teaching. At least for now.”
Not only was I not ready to go back to teaching thanks to the traumatic experience at my last job, I was also concerned about working too much. My aunt clearly needed me to care for her, and working part-time would give me that flexibility.
Not that I wanted her to know that. It wasn't the only reason, and hell, it might even be an excuse since I was still not over being accused of sleeping with a student. But either way, this was for the best. At least, for the moment.
“Whatever makes you happy, Rose,” she said. “The nice thing about living out here opposed to Seattle is you don't have to work a stressful, soul crushing job just to get by.”
She was right about that. My teacher's salary barely afforded us a place an hour away from the city. Jason's job paid decently well, a little better than mine since he worked in the tech field, but he never moved up within the company before he was fired. Alcoholism will do that to a person.
“When do you start?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning actually,” I said. “They needed someone right away. Which is good for me.”
“Very good, dear,” my aunt said.
I looked down at the plate in front of her. She'd taken two bites of the spaghetti and that was it. Instead, she merely pushed the food around on her plate as we sat there.
“You need to eat, Paula,” I said, giving her a serious look. “Are you not feeling well?”
She shrugged. “The chemo makes me sick at times,” she said. “It's to be expected. I just need to rest for a little bit.”
I hated that my once healthy, vibrant, and lively aunt was withering away before my eyes. She'd lost so much weight since I was a teen – and it hurt my heart to see her looking so frail. She couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds as it was – and not eating would only make things worse.
“Is there something else I can make for you?” I asked. “Or maybe we can have some ice cream for dessert?”
Anything to keep the weight on her. I wasn't a nurse, but even I knew she needed to eat to continue to survive.
“Ice cream sounds nice, dear,” she said.
I almost told her to eat a few more bites of her dinner first before we had ice cream, but I stopped myself just in time. I wasn't her mother – even though, having to take care of her made it feel like it sometimes. It hurt me to see her like that. To talk to her like a child.
As we sat there, a memory drifted up from the bottom of my mind. I remembered a time so long ago where she'd had to badger me into eating my spaghetti in order to have ice cream for dessert. And I'd by no means been a malnourished child. Back then, I'd been a little chunky, actually.
“Alright, auntie,” I said, standing up and taking my plate to the sink. I kissed her on the top of the head as I walked by. “Anything you want.”
Some days were certainly better than others. Most of the time she seemed cognizant and like her normal, healthy self. And other times, usually after she got a round of chemo, she seemed a little out of it and sick to her stomach.
A little ice cream never hurt anyone, right? I piled some in a bowl for her, making sure to give her a few extra scoops just to get her calorie intake up.
“Mint chocolate chip,” I said with a smile. “Your favorite.”
“It's yours too,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
“It's your fault,” I laughed, thinking once again about how so many of my likes and preferences mirrored my aunt's. “My dad always thought it was gross. He wouldn't buy it for me. But you always made sure to have some on hand.”
“Your dad is an idiot,” she said flatly. “Always was. Probably always will be.”
There she was. There was my Aunt Paula with the mischievous glint in her eye.
“You can say that again,” I said.
~ooo000ooo~
“Welcome to One More Chapter,” my boss said as I walked in the door, settling the little bells chiming.
As soon as she turned around and saw it was just me, she smiled and greeted me with a handshake.
“Ahh, sorry, I was facing the bookshelves, didn't see it was you, Rose.”
“That's fine, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I said.
“Please, call me Mary,” she said. “Everyone in town does.”
Mary Hawthorne was an older woman with graying hair and glasses, yet she never seemed to actually age. She looked almost exactly the same as she did when I'd come to her shop as a kid. When I visited my aunt back then, she'd treat me with a visit to the bookstore. I remember that I would look around in wonder, reading anything I could get my hands on. Books were little pieces of magic to me and it was one more influence in my life I had to thank Paula for.
It was so long ago that I'd been surprised she remembered me when I first came in. But as soon as she saw my face when I applied for the job the day before, she rushed over to me and greeted me with her normal, friendly smile, and a warm hug. She was like the town's communal grandmother, she loved everyone. And everyone loved her.
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 kept 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?”