But before I can apologize, he stands. He’s looming over me, a mountain of a man, and I scramble to my feet and try to muster a confidence I do not feel. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, if you’d let me finish.” He huffs out a frustrated sigh. “All I’m trying to say is that if I win…” He bites his lip, then blurts, “You could be my assistant.”

Indignation sparks through me. “Your assistant?”

“I mean, I could hire you as an assistant manager so you wouldn’t be out of a job.” The expression on his face is all, See what a nice guy I am?

“Wow, that’s great,” I say.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows lift.

“I mean, you’re the man, you should be the boss.”

“Uh…”

“And all us little women should work for you, right?” I’m gathering steam, letting the frustration I didn’t unleash on that awful customer surge out of me. “I bet that’s why you love managing a bookstore. Hordes of women asking you to tell them what to read? And hey, if those books happen to reinforce the message that women aren’t complete without a man, that’s a bonus! Patriarchy at its finest.”

“I…”

I step closer, poking a finger at his chest, saying what I wish I could say to every single person who has ever underestimated me.

“I’ll never be your assistant, Mr. Happy Endings. And you’d better polish up your resume, because I’m going to win this battle. And the first thing I’ll do? Fire you.”

With that, I turn and walk off.

I wish saying all that made me feel better. Instead, I’m left feeling like no matter what I do, if I stay silent or stay in control or let everything out, I’ll always end up in the wrong.

4

Ryan

What in the ever-loving hell was that?

I’m blinking at the spot where Josie stood just seconds ago. I thought she’d be happy to know she wouldn’t lose her job, even if she lost Xander’s stupid competition.

The last thing I meant to imply was that I think she’s beneath me.

Cue my brothers’ voices in my head, suggesting that very thing: Josie, beneath me.

Fat chance of that happening. The fact that her eyes sparkle like emeralds when she’s angry and she smells like a lavender field on a rainy day is irrelevant. I have no doubt that if Josie Klein could summon lightning like Violet Sorrengail, I’d be a pile of ashes on the floor.

If she’d given me a second to explain, maybe she’d realize I’m not the enemy, Xander is. I’m the one person who understands that our jobs mean so much more than a paycheck, that we’d be lost, rudderless, without our bookstores.