Page 82 of Ice Queen

The middle shelf is what I use for our “most anticipated” release. Every week, I put a poll on social media and ask what everyone is most excited for. Whatever wins goes on our prize shelf. The book sits cover out, with whatever the tropes are put on one of those letterboards that were popular back when I was in high school.

I usually put some sort of trinket or candle that goes with the book on there, too. It’s one of my favorite parts of the store. It gives me a bit of a creative outlet that I get to exercise every week.

I step back, my hands landing on my hips as I make sure the book is straight and the letterboard has everything spelled correctly. I roll my lips together, admiring my work. Perfectly centered, everything can be seen from any angle. Maybe I should put some battery-powered lights in there. Really jazz it up.

The front door opens, and I’m left with a cart full of books in the middle of the floor. Oops.

I really do need to hire someone else. It’s starting to get too busy for me to be able to handle all of this by myself. I don’t know a damn thing when it comes to hiring and firing, though. I might have to find a manager who knows what they’re doing first, and give them that freedom.

“Hey, Kait,” Camille calls from the back a few hours later.

I stick my head in, smiling when I see she’s got blankets, multiple energy drinks, and her empty coffee cup sitting on a coaster. “What’s up?”

“Lex has a release in five months. Can we have her release party here?”

Without hesitation, I start nodding. “I’d love that.” My hands start to wring in front of me, and fear of looking like I don’t know what I’m doing starts to creep in. But then I remember how far I’ve come. You don’t control me anymore, I say to my brain.

“I’ve never done one, so if you could let me know what it is you expect from the event, I’ll make sure it happens.”

She laughs. “I know you haven’t. That’s why she wants to have it here. You’ve made quite the name for yourself in such a short time. She saw the press release about the foundation and the animal shelter. It said you gave them the books.”

I did, I was sad I couldn’t go, but they went during business hours, and I couldn’t close to make the trip. Yet another reason I need to hire someone else.

“Hey, do you know anyone with management experience?” I ask. They’re plugged into the book world, so it might be a smart place to start. “I need to hire some people, but I think I’m too empathetic to hire or fire, so I need someone with a good head on their shoulders.”

She leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. “My sister literally just graduated with a business degree like last week.”

“She might be severely underpaid working here, then.” I blow out a breath. I’m not rolling in cash, but it would be nice to have someone who knows business, too.

“She’d do it for discounted books.” Camille wiggles her eyebrows. “She alpha reads all Lex’s books. The girl should have gone into editing, but she wanted something more versatile. If you want me to ask, I’m sure she’d be all over it.”

Biting down on my lip, my eyes trace the pattern on the floor. “Yeah,” I finally say. “That’d be great.”

Scooping up her phone, she texts her sister, shaking it at me and singing, “Done.”

“Thank you,” I say before knocking on the door frame twice.

“Book girlies gotta stick together.”

It’s strange, the way the women here are so supportive. Every woman I’ve ever known has been so cutthroat and fake, always doing what it takes to get to the next “level,” whatever that was. Maybe it’s because Wyatt was part of the image crazy group of Colorado elites. Maybe it was because women in that circle only cared about who they had to sleep with or suck up to, to get what they wanted. Or maybe it was the fact that they’d been told their entire life that other women were competition.

I rub the material of my shirt between my fingers. “Yeah,” I say. “That we do.”

The front door of the store opens, and I leave her to her work and greet the people who walk in. Natasha wasn’t wrong when she said that when word got out about our special editions section, we’d be bone dry. I make a quick note to order more and check the request box to see if there are any new releases that people are looking for.

Putting that request box both in the store and on my website has turned out to be the best decision I could have made. I’ve found so many new to me authors, and have even gotten the chance to listen to people passionately tell me how a book changed their life.

There’s very little that lights me up the way listening to someone else talk about the things they love does. It always reminds me of the way my mom would get when she talked about a new recipe, or the one time she swore we were going to move to a farm and raise cows. We never got around to that part, though.

It’s kind of the way Hannah gets when she’s excited about something, maybe that’s why she feels so safe to me. She reminds me a lot of my mom. She texted me this morning letting me know they were having food delivered to Markus’ house, fajitas, because they’re superstitious and that’s what they now eat every year during the first game of the playoffs.

Soon it’s six o’clock and time to close. The phone rings just as I make it to my office, and I debate letting it go to voicemail because, honestly, I’m beat, but we literally just closed.

“Thank you for calling Tattered Pages. This is Kaitlyn. How may I help you?”

A deep chuckle sounds from over the line, and I pull the phone away as if I could see him.

“You’ve got a sexy customer service voice, Princesa.”