Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Cybil wanted Mexican, and we certainly weren’t going to walk.”
“There’s streetcars and cabs and––”
“We don’t trust other people’s driving, and besides, every time we move it, we sell more books.”
“I have no idea why,” I grumbled. “These books are ridiculous.”
“Romance makes the world go round.”
Science made the world go round, but arguing with her, I knew from firsthand experience, would get me nowhere.
“You’re groaning,” Cybil remarked as she walked by me, toward the front of the bus, carrying a stack of paperbacks.
“These books will put people into sugar shock.”
“A few. Perhaps,” Jane conceded, smiling at me.
“A few? Have you looked at these titles?” I asked her.
“Of course,” she affirmed with an evil chuckle.
“The Sheik’s Son’s Secret,” I said, reading one to her before shooting her a look.
“That one is very sexy, and it’s about two men, in case you were wondering.”
I was not wondering at all.
“I’ll bet you can guess what the secret is.” She winked at me.
“This one is The Bourbon Baron’s Barren Bride.”
“Would you like to know why the bride is barren?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Because he’s a man!” Cybil called out from the front.
“Loved that one.” Jane said with a sigh.
“The Drowned Duke’s Lover’s Lady.”
“Now that one’s a ménage,” she clarified for me. “Two women, one man.”
“Dear God.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude.”
“The Silver-Spooned Spinster’s Son,” I went on.
“That one has two men, and it’s pretty good, though it has a bit too much fade-to-black for my taste. You would probably like it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She gave me a dismissive wave.
“The Secret the Sun Surfer Made.” I continued.
“Now just to clarify, the heroine in that one is a snowboarder, not a surfer like in the ocean.”
Like it mattered to me.
“That one’s a slow burn.”
“The Well-Bred Baker and His Cake?”
“Now that one might actually be a bit too sweet. I prefer some raunchy sack time in my romance and in real––”
“No. No.” I stopped her. “I don’t wanna hear that.”
She shrugged.
“Okay, the books are up, I helped you unpack, I’m outta here before the ick gets on me.”
“It’s love and romance, and you could do with getting some of that on you.”
I rolled my eyes and made it to the stairs.
“Christopher.”
Turning, I looked at Cybil who was sitting in the driver’s seat sorting books.
“Love is returning for you, my dear.”
“Do me a favor and get some books on science and history in here.”
“Never,” she vowed with a flourish.
“Chris?” Simone said my name, returning me to the present.
“Those two ladies are old busybodies is what they are,” I told her. “They just want free food, and everybody in here takes them plates throughout the day.”
“That part is true.”
“See? If they forecasted doom and gloom, do you think we’d be giving them Georgine’s food? I think not.”
“You used to be a romantic,” she said flatly. “I blame Dawson’s leaving for this.”
We were not talking about him today. “Can you get back to your point?”
“That we’re part of the community. Those ladies sit that bus over by the park when they come to town, and it’s nice to walk over there at eleven at night and look at books. I get to do that because we’re open, because we are a live-music venue that stays loud and fun until two in the morning on Friday and Saturday.”
“So you’re saying what?”
“That yes, we can become a full-time restaurant, but that’s not what either of us wants.”
“Agreed.”
“Then you have to bite the bullet and call the booker,” she concluded.
“Or,” I said because I had another idea, “we could invite street musicians.”
Instantly her face scrunched up.
“Why is that not a good idea?”
She shook her head.
“Wait, listen, I—”
“They are used to working their own hours, with people they want to work with, and you know as well as I do that so many of them are unreliable and—”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “Take Justice and Molly. They—”
“Have a website, and you can Venmo them the money for their CDs right there on the street,” she said, then narrowed her eyes and did her really terrible impression of me that made me sound like a stoner. “They’re awesome and totally professional.”
I glared at her.
“Again, you have to remember they all work for themselves. They do what they want when they want. Why on earth would they choose to split profits with us when they can keep everything for themselves when they’re on the street?”
“I think they’d prefer a permanent place, not the fly-by-night of maybe having their spot and maybe not.”
“Everybody knows where each person sets up. Have you ever seen anyone take anyone else’s spot ever?”
I had not, but that wasn’t the point. “I just—”
“Again, because you’re making me beat this poor dead horse, you have to keep in mind that they make their own hours and come and go as they please. Why would any of those people want to conform to ours?”