“I need to see Warren,” I said, suspecting I probably reeked of vodka and smoke. “Is he here?”

She shook her head, making her glossy black hair sway. It was worn in a long, sleek style I’d taught her how to do. “He left about an hour ago. Didn’t want to stick around for closing.”

I glanced at a clock. I’d barely made it in before they locked the doors. I tapped my foot impatiently, wondering if I should call Warren at home. Finally, I asked, “You got a sec to go over some schedule stuff? I’m going to be out for a few days . . . or maybe more.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling and showing dimples. “You want me to grab Doug too?”

“He’s here?”

Both assistant managers closing in one night. It was a stroke of luck. I headed off to my office while she went to fetch her brother Doug. My desk was organized for a change, and I found the clipboard bearing the schedule for the next couple of weeks. I skimmed it, relieved to see we had a full complement of staff for a change. My immortal friends didn’t understand why I cared so much about this job. There had been days recently—days when I didn’t want to get out of bed because I was so depressed—that I’d wondered the same thing. But the truth was, eternity was an extremely long time, and I’d spent most of my time always occupied with some activity. It was part of my nature; I couldn’t be idle. And sometimes—sometimes—I could get so caught up in the day-to-day affairs of the human world that I could almost pretend for a heartbeat that I was one of them again.

“I don’t think we’ll need anyone to cover me,” I said when I heard the office door open a few minutes later. “Someone’ll just need to take over my—” I looked up.

Maddie had returned, along with Doug, but they weren’t alone. Seth was with them.

All the easy confidence I’d shown in the store, all the brashness and bravado I’d shown at the club . . . it all shriveled up into a cold, hard knot as I looked at him. Walls slammed down around me. How could he affect me like this, particularly while wearing a Buck Rogers T-shirt? It had been three months. Why wasn’t I over him? Why did I still want to cry or break something whenever I saw him?

“Whoa, Kincaid,” said Doug, partially distracting me from my angst. He glanced at my outfit and raised an eyebrow. “We interrupting your social life?”

I wore a knee-length black trench coat over a short red dress. My makeup was done to seductive perfection, whorish dark eyeliner and lipstick to match the dress. Shape-shifting in the car would have been a snap, but I didn’t feel like I needed to prove anything here. In fact, I kind of reveled in my tramp look tonight.

“Apparently this is my social life, if I’m pathetic enough to come in on a Saturday night.” I forced myself to focus on Doug and Maddie only, trying hard not to look at Seth’s soft, coppery brown hair or gentle eyes. Why did he have to be here of all nights? The answer: he was here every night. He was an author and did his best work in coffee shops. When we’d broken up, he’d tried to tactfully find another and stay away from me, but Maddie—oblivious to his reasons—had begged him to stay at the bookstore’s.