Page 2

EDEN

I’m watching you, Eden.

I balled up the note and tossed it in the trash can as soon as I walked in the door of Book Boyfriends and Lattes. The door locked turned with a loud click and I sucked in a deep breath now that I was alone. And safe. Two hours until Indra or Nia, the owner of Book Boyfriends and Lattes, would arrive with loud fanfare about whatever book they were binging last night.

My fingers trembled as I clicked the lock back to it’s I’m going to keep all the crazy people out position.

I had a stalker. I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination. Foolishly. But texts and now handwritten notes were the cold bucket of ice water thrown over my head I only acknowledged when I was alone.

Even more foolish.

The really bad bury my head in the sand reaction to it all?

No one knew. Not Zoe, my BFF. Or Noah, by BFF because he was Zoe’s BFF. Not even Nia or Indra, even though the notes had started showing up at the bookstore three weeks ago. It had been easy to ignore the texts for the past few months, even if I read everyone then deleted them right after. For my eyes only.

But these damn notes? Physical evidence. Thrown in the trash, without a second thought. Until a few days ago when Nia caught me crumpling up the note I shoved neatly in between the door and the door frame when we arrived early to go over last minute signing event details.

I glossed it over, and quickly changed the subject. But, she studied my face for a few seconds before giving in to my blabbing.

Eyes that watch me from the shadows or places I refused to acknowledge. If I didn’t say out loud, it wasn’t true. If I threw away the notes, they no longer existed.

One of the many lies I told myself.

I stared down at the sketch on my iPad, and ignored the gnawing feeling creeping up the back of my neck as I reached for the steaming mug of chamomile tea I steeped far longer than the instructions said to.

Calm. All the calm. Theoretically, the tea bag could only steep so much magical herbal goodness, but the longer I steeped, the more in control I felt. And so, I drank my very strong herbal tincture with one hand and drew with the other.

“Wow, Eden!” Indra said, scaring the living daylights out of me.

“Indra! Can you tone the ninja down just a little?” Thankfully I hadn’t spilled any tea, since I had the biggest Jack the Pumpkin King mug known to man.

But still, I could have.

And then it would have gotten on my iPad, which while a little waterproof, still meant the screen would’ve gotten all crazy. I breathed in, counting to four, refusing to give in to all the things that could have gone wrong and focused on what didn’t.

She grimaced. “Sorry, I swear next time I will actually put on my shoes and click clack all along the hardwood floor and announce my arrival. Forgive me?”

Glaring playfully over the rim of my mug as I pretended to mull her apology over. I sighed, then grinned. “Just this one time, Indie.” She nudged me with her shoulder and pointed at the tablet. Her long dark blonde waves falling forward. Indra worked at Book Boyfriends and Lattes, buying and finding indie authors, ironically enough. She was a few years younger than me, but loved books as much as I did. Her cousin, Nia, opened the romance bookstore six months ago, and I joined as the social media and event coordinator a few weeks after. Because what girl didn’t love a book boyfriend and having access to thousands of them?

Especially one who never lets you down in real life. Or broke your heart.

“I love it.” She leaned over my shoulder and rested her chin on my shoulder. “The neon green. I’m not a haunted house girl, but this,” she tapped her finger on the iPad screen with a sigh, “makes me want to go. Is Beetlejui-”

“Indie! You can’t say his name.”

Her laugh filled the empty bookstore. “I’ll be sure not to say it again, then.” With a sigh, she walked over to the front door, and flipped the sign over. “Nia is going to be late. The girls were at dickhead’s last night and he couldn’t take them to school. Dude needs a wake up call. She’s too nice.” Nia and her soon to be ex shared custody of their daughters, and Indra had a less than glowing opinion of him. It was well deserved, given that he’d been screwing the girls’ nanny. In their house.

“At least he isn’t having the ‘nanny,” I finger quoted, “ take them. But, agreed. Why do penises make men stupid?” I groaned, and took a sip of tea. Still hot. Ish. “I can stay for a little bit. My meeting with Lanie isn’t until after twelve.”

“I wonder if it’s their penis, or a lack of communication between both of their heads.” Indra waved her hand, then unlocked the door. “I’ll be fine. Prince Charming will be here any minute to rescue me and take me away from all this.” As she walked behind the barista counter, and poured a cup of coffee, checking the various bottles of syrups, and making sure the fridge was stocked. “And Nia said to remind you to call Delena Bennett to confirm her and that other author you love-”

I nearly squealed with delight. Two of my favorite authors had agreed to come to the signing at the bookstore in three months from now. And Nina entrusted me with all the details and planning while she navigated life as a newly single mother dealing with an obtuse ex-ish husband and her much younger nanny who was also his now live-in girlfriend. Delena Bennett was a coup, because she rarely did signings, but since she finally posted her face on her social media alongside her football player boyfriend, I took a chance and asked her to come. But the other author wrote my favorite MMF trilogy, and getting her to come had taken all the gushing and begging on my part.

“-and to not come in this weekend. Direct order.”

Most of my work was remote anyway, but there was something about the bookstore, with it’s coffee bar that only offered craft worthy lattes, the sitting area with a fireplace that flipped on with a switch but looked like it an old fashioned wood burning style, and the dark wood shelves that lined the walls that soothed my soul. The second floor lined the rim of the main area with a loft and was where the signing was going to be held. The storefront next door was empty, and by a twist of fate, the owner found a tenant that wanted to lease it after the event and was letting Book Boyfriends and Lattes rent the space for the event before the new tenant took it over and began construction.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose as that telltale tingle worked its way along my spine again.

Someone was watching me.

“Eden?”

A beam of sunlight peeked through the clouds outside, illuminating the front sidewalk in an eerie glow. But other than the usual morning foot traffic, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No one standing in the shadows or lingering on the sidewalk.

“Earth to Eden,” Indie repeated, waving her hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times, shrugging off the creepy watching you vibes, and forced a grin. “Sorry. Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? Plenty of time to get to my meeting, and still have to finish my tea.” Cup in hand, I lifted it, as it magically appeared in the midst of my near panic attack.

Her long, dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders as she shook her head. “Nope.” The ‘p’ popped as she rounded the counter and rested an arm on the vintage cash register Nia insisted on using. It was cute, but most sales still were rung through the mobile device. Plastic or tap your phone. Nia took it all. And refused to get rid of the cash register because it had been in her grandma’s flower shop.

I loved it and threatened to cry my eyes out and force her at celery point (she hated celery) if she ever decided it needed to go.

“I know you came in early and probably did the inventory for the signing even though I told you I would, and ordered the damn peen cookies,” she held up her finger when I opened my mouth to protest, “and a million other things because I bet you stayed up watching Freddie or Beetle-”

“Don’t say it!”

She burst out in loud laughter. “It would serve you right if he showed up.” She shook her head as she teased, “I still don’t know how you resist the urge to grab Noah’s-”

I threw my hands over my ears. “Oh, God, no! I’d have to bleach my skin and go into a contamination chamber! Noah is my friend. Friennnnnnd. He’s like a…a…” I wrinkled my nose. “OOH! A girlfriend. He’s like a really good girlfriend. Once you watch him squeal and cower when Freddy does the vein puppet thing, he loses all hotness points.”

Indie gasped. “Oh, no. He’s gorgeous. And he likes Tay. Those viral videos of him at karaoke?” She pretended to swoon, hand on her forehead.

I laughed and stuffed my iPad into my bag. “Fine, he’s cute. But, so not my type.”

“Who cares about type when you need to scratch the itch?” Indie wagged her eyebrows.

While I could admit Noah definitely had that golden retriever energy and looked the part of the hockey player suit walk in vibe, there was nothing there. Not even a tingle. Not even the urge to brush off an errant hair. “I do! You,” I slung my bag over my shoulder and waved a finger at her, “need to get laid. Or get a new vibrator.”

She sighed and propped her chin on her hand. “Ordered a new one yesterday. Express shipping applied. That should tell you a little something about my itch and scratch prospects. Self scratching only.” Her nose wrinkled as she gathered her hair and secured it in a messy bun with a hair tie from her wrist. “Now, shoo. Go do haunted house hockey things. And maybe just send me pics of any hot hockey boys to use as scratching inspiration if you run into any?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve only run into coaches and staff the three times I’ve been to Triumph Land. No hockey hotties. But, if I see them at Noah’s, texts will be sent. Overtly. Though some of those guys would probably love the idea of a girl scratching. Besides the point. Tell Nia not to let asshole bring her down.” As I left, I sidestepped two women talking excitedly about getting the next book in a trilogy that I loved, and with a wave, stepped out into the sunshine.

And ignored the nagging feeling someone watched from a place I couldn’t see.