Page 32 of Aaron's Patience

“A bookstore,” he commented.

“Not just any bookstore. They sell vintage books,” I defended.

He snorted but used his free hand to pull the door open, his other hand still at my back.

Entering the bookstore, I inhaled the scent of old and used books, loving it. “Hi, Sam,” I greeted the clerk who seemed to always be here at the store.

He lifted his head, his wire-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he did. A smile blossomed on his handsome face, but it quickly disappeared when his eyes moved from me to the man standing closely behind me.

For some odd reason, I felt the need to make introductions. “Sam this is, uh, Aaron Townsend. He’s a friend of my father’s.”

Sam’s pale face seemed to grow even paler, his lips clamping together before parting. “Aaron, nice to–”

“Mr. Townsend,” Aaron corrected.

I looked back at Aaron who was staring at Sam, relaying something silently with his eyes. I had no idea what was going on. I turned back to Sam, whose eyes had narrowed, but he quickly looked away from Aaron.

“Sam, did you get the books in?” I asked.

He nodded and went to move from behind the counter but stopped when he took a quick glance behind me. “They’re on the shelf in the back row. You know where we keep them.”

I wrinkled my forehead but nodded and proceeded down the two stairs to enter the main part of the store. Aaron followed me all the way to the back of the bookstore. I smiled widely when I saw the newly stocked books on the shelf. Stooping low, I took out a copy of Toni Morrison’sThe Bluest Eye,followed byHome.I stood with the books in my hand, and that giddy feeling I always felt when I wrapped my fingers around new books overcame me.

“They just got these in,” I stated, smiling, my eyes still trained on the books. “This one was published this year.” I held up the copy ofHome.“I’ve read this one but this is a vintage copy. One of the first published. I’ve been waiting weeks for the bookstore to get it in.” I went on to talk more about the books, but paused when I saw Aaron simply staring at me, his usual scowl set in place. “I’m sure you have better things to do than to watch a librarian geek out over books.”

He lowered his chin, eyes boring into mine. “I’ll let you know when I have other matters to tend to.”

I swallowed, feeling uneasy and oddly comforted under his penetrating gaze. How was that even possible?

I turned back to the bookshelf, realizing Aaron wasn’t going anywhere unless he wanted to, and for now, he didn’t. I didn’t want him to leave either, but I’d never say as much out loud. Browsing some more, I picked up two more books I hadn’t intended to get right then but just couldn’t turn away. I headed to the register, placing the books down on the counter. Sam gave me the same smile he always gave whenever I was in the store, until, again, he ventured to look behind me.

“That’ll be two-hundred–” Sam was cut off when Aaron thrust a credit card in his face.

I turned. “You don–” My refusal stopped short on my lips when Aaron turned stern eyes on me, telling me without words that his paying wasn’t up for debate.

Sam silently took the card and rang up my items.

With Aaron’s hand again at the small of my back, we exited the bookstore.

“Do you like ice cream?” I questioned without thinking.

Aaron lifted an eyebrow and I dipped my head on a smile. He looked perplexed, as if he was trying to figure out what he was still doing with me.

“There’s a shop right across the street. I was going to stop by to get my favorite praline ice cream before heading home for the night.”

He turned his head in the direction of the ice cream shop I’d just gestured toward and then nodded.

I took that as a yes, especially when he placed his hand at my back again, urging me forward. We got our ice cream—my vanilla and praline while he ordered regular chocolate—before he offered me a ride home. After telling him that I opted to walk, he took that as an opportunity to walk me all the way back to my third floor walk-up apartment.

“Your father allows you to live here?” he questioned once we reached my door.

I squinted. “He doesn’t allow anything. I’m twenty-three. He doesn’t really have a say in the matter.”

That frown deepened.

I angled my head. “The neighborhood isn’t that bad.”

He didn’t respond but the expression on his face revealed he didn’t think too highly of my neighborhood.