Page 2 of No Shelf Control
"You don't say." I give her a dirty look. "You could have mentioned that at any point before right now, you know."
"Oops, my bad." She laughs a little too loudly, then clamps a hand over her mouth, glancing around like she isn't the one who enforces the rules around here.
I spin on my heel and march down the aisle, following behind him. It might be my imagination, but the whole aisle smells faintly, deliciously like amber. His cologne? Maybe.
I let the scent guide me through the reference section, past the history section, all the way to the mythology section in the back.
River is at the end of the aisle, crouched on his heels while scanning a row near the bottom, the muscles in his thighsbulging. Jeez. He's built like a linebacker. Who needs all those muscles to write books?
"Excuse me, Mr. Jamison?"
"I don't have time to sign autographs today," he growls, his voice a little rusty, like he rarely uses it. "I'm working."
"I'm not here for an autograph," I say, leaning up against a shelf. I think about leaving it at that, but when in the history of ever have I left things alone? Never, that's when. "And, for the record, if a reader wants to say hi when you're at the library, you really should take two minutes to say hello without being a jerk. You're able to do what you do because of them, and the library is a bookish space. It's not like you're being accosted at dinner."
He stops scanning the row, his head snapping up until our eyes meet. "If you don't want an autograph, what do you want?"
"My name is Jasmine Knudsen. My friends call me Jazz. I work atBook of Love, the new spicy romance bookstore in town," I say, refusing to get lost in those eyes. They really are incredible. The glasses are doing it for him. "I'm here to invite you to speak at our monthly book club meeting next month. Our members would love to meet you."
"No."
I wait for more, but that's it, just a singular, emphatic no.
For a man who writes so eloquently, he sure doesn't speak the same way. His books are full of beautiful prose and the most erotic sex scenes. His heroines are real, genuine, as if he plucked them off the streets and dropped them into his novels. And his heroes are literal perfection, as if they instinctively understand how hard it is to be a woman in this world, even when they aren't from this world. In person, he's…annoyingly abrupt. And kind of rude, actually. His heroes would never.
I narrow my eyes at him. "No?"
"No." He goes back to scanning the row. "It is a complete sentence."
"I'm aware that it's a complete sentence,Mr. Jamison." I make a point to emphasize his name. "But—"
"No."
"You didn't even let me—"
"No."
I actually stomp my damn foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I don't know why! He's hot, cranky, and annoying as hell. He just brings it out of me.
"Stop saying no!"
"No." Is that a hint of a smile I see?
Oh my gosh. Is he actually enjoying being this infuriating?
I glare at him for a long, silent moment. "Has anyone ever told you that you're annoying?"
He pauses his search to cock a brow at me. "Jazz, isn't it?"
"I said my friends call me Jazz. You aren't my friend. Ms. Knudsen will do just fine."
He actually smiles this time. And damn, he's beautiful when he smiles…which I'm guessing the crabby bastard doesn't do often. "Fine,Jasmine," he says, emphasizing my name the same way I did his, "has anyone ever told you that it's rude to continue pressing someone when they've already said no?"
"It's also customary to give an explanation when rejecting an offer to meet the very people who buy the books you write," I snap. Maybe I'll have a bonfire with my copies of his books tonight. I don't stan book burning, but for him, I might make an exception.
"Explanations imply that I might be swayed into changing my mind. That isn't going to happen, so why waste the time when, again, no is a complete sentence?" He glances at me again. "Have you ever heard of boundaries?"
"Yes, and you know what?"
