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IcyBoss: I don't want any coworkers seeing my face here.

NotNeurotic: Maybe I am a coworker.

IcyBoss: Unlikely, darling. Are you neurotic?

NotNeurotic: Not even a little. I'm about as normal as they come.

IcyBoss: You up for coffee?

Not Neurotic: Not this late. Wine or tea. Or coffee tomorrow?

IcyBoss: You busy right now?

5

Florence

I look around the nearly deserted Book Nook. I love my tiny bookstore and café. It should be easy to find myNotNeuroticdate here.

I don't want to meet in a very crowded place right now—there's enough drama on social media without adding an innocent woman into it.

The bell above the door rings, and a tall striking blonde woman with piercing blue eyes steps inside, glancing around before zeroing in on the coffee counter in the back. She's dressed impeccably in fitted jeans and a sapphire blouse that matches her eyes, far too put-together for someone who's had less than an hour to get ready. Something feels vaguely familiar about her, but I can't place her.

I circle around a bookshelf and silently come up behind her. "Are youNotNeurotic?"I murmur in a husky voice close to her ear.

She jumps, her hand flying to her chest. "God, you scare me." For just a moment, there's a flash of recognition in her eyes. Then it's gone. "What kind of question is that? I'm not neurotic. Are you?"

I snicker. "I'mIcyBoss.I meant yourHerhandle."

She lets out a long breath. "Oh. Sorry." She hesitates. "I've never done this before. I didn't expect you to sneak up and scare the shit out of me. You can call me Josie."

"Can I buy you a drink, Josie?" The corner of my mouth curls up. I think I like this woman.

She might be a good fit for what I need. Her height is striking—she's got at least five or six inches on me—but it's her quiet confidence, even after I've rattled her, that draws me to her.

"If they have tea? Sure." Her gaze drifts along the bookshelves as we walk toward the back of the store. It's like she's tryingnotto look at something—or someone. Me.

"You like to read?" I ask, following her eyes as they linger on the literary fiction.

She blushes. "Some, although my typical taste is a little less refined than that." Her fingers absently brush along the line of her neck, drawing my attention to the curve of her throat.

Judging by her flushed face, I take a guess. "You like trashy romance novels," I tease. "Exclusively lesbian, or straight, too?" I don't have much time to read, but I indulge in the occasional romance once in a while.

"Only women for me." She frowns. "Oh, —sorry! You meant books, didn't you? Mostly sapphic romances, honestly. Living vicariously and all that." She shrugs. "What about you? Do you read?"

It's a fair question, seeing as I invited her to a bookstore. "Some," I say simply. I bite my lip as I study her. Despite her easy smile, she's trying very hard to look relaxed. Definitely nervous.

"Do you want some wine?" I offer. "Instead of tea, I mean?"

She glances around the store like she's checking for exits. "Is there a good bar nearby?"

I chuckle. "There's a wine bar next door."

"Nectar? They wouldn't let me in, not looking like this." She looks down at herself. "I didn't plan to go out tonight."

I wave at Matthew, one of our employees, to get his attention. His gaze flicks to Josie and lingers just a bit too long.

"Can we get two cups of tea, please?" I ask.