Then she reached up, removing the elastic around her bun so the dark waves of her hair cascaded down, releasing the scent of her floral shampoo. I loved seeing her unravel, shedding her prim and proper exterior. She was no better than me.

But then her eyes flew open, and whatever she saw in me made her shut down. Gone were the desperate pleas for me to go harder, faster, deeper—and in their place was the stuck-up ice queen I’ve come to know all too well. Dream Josie pushed me away, pulling up her panties and lowering her skirt, mumbling excuses about having to get back to her store. She had important, intelligent books to sell to important, intelligent people. She had to make money, so she could beat me and fire my staff and turn my bookstore into a cold, bleak literary hellscape.

That part didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a premonition.

“Hey, Romeo, I think that one’s got enough tape on it.”

I snap to attention and glance down at the blind date book I’m wrapping in brown paper. Cinderella’s right—there are six pieces of tape where I only need one.

“Mind’s somewhere else,” I mumble.

Cinderella smirks as if she knows what I was thinking.

Her hair is now a vibrant green, like the M&M’s that were rumored to make you horny back in the day. Too bad there wasn’t another color that could turn it all off and stop you from thinking inappropriate thoughts about your newly sworn enemy.

The dream was confusing for more than the obvious reasons. I’ve never been into the paranormal stuff; I prefer stories that could really happen. Books where I can picture myself as the main character meeting the LOML, having that instant spark that makes people say, “When you know, you know.”

Although the last time I thought I “knew,” the other person did not. I have no intention of getting myself in that position again, but I still love seeing it play out in fiction.

“Your mind’s been somewhere else a lot lately,” Cinderella says.

“There’s a lot going on,” I tell her. “With the store.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She narrows her eyes as she tapes a sloppy corner on another book. If only she paid as much attention to her job as she does to my personal life. “Things got a little heated with you and that Tabula girl yesterday.”

“Yeah, well.”

“It’s not like you to let someone get under your skin like that.”

She’s not wrong. When I’m around Josie Klein, I can go from completely fine to pissed to turned on in the length of a heartbeat. But I can’t explain why, so I shrug and say, “It’s not every day someone comes into my store and disrespects my customers and staff.”