But Wild Nights belonged to Rinn. It had belonged to her as a customer and now it belonged to her as an employee. She couldn’t imagine a world without it. It was the one space where everything could be all right.

She had to do what she could to save it. Rinn clicked through and posted the videos. She’d been able to geotag them, thanks to re-adding the store to Google Maps.

Rinn and AJ both started walking back toward the checkout counter. It was a natural and easy silence that Rinn didn’t take for granted. She’d learned through years of filming vlogs that she could quite literally talk to a wall. Or a camera. But companionable silence was a rare and precious thing.

Just before Rinn swung behind the register, AJ bumped his shoulder into hers. He stretched out the book in his hand again. “You forgot this, by the way.”

It was that next Sayers murder-mystery novel. Rinn took it and decided maybe, now was as good of a time as any to actually flirt with AJ. Maybe, with the magic of this moment, it would work. “Thank you, I—”

Rinn opened her mouth, when a heavy thud sounded in front of her. Rinn jumped back as two full grocery bags of books landed on the counter. Her pen got knocked off the register, her glasses slipped down her nose, and AJ made himself scarce. He hated dealing with the resale customers.

Rinn didn’t blame him.

“Are you open?” An aggressive-looking man stared at her. He had a sharp, angular face and a direct sort of disposition.

“Uh. Yes?” Of course they were open. How else could the man be standing in the damned store, ruining her life?

The man folded his arms across his chest. He was athletic and sun-weathered. He had one of those faces that could have been between forty-five and sixty-five—the kind of tanned white skin that had been left out in the sun to dry out, like leather. Rinn couldn’t help but think of a romantic lead in a historical novel who had aged. Straight, rugged nose. Deep-set eyes, heavy eyebrows. Piercing stare. A rough voice saying horrible, sarcastic things. “Are you not sure if you’re open?”

This was why Rinn was attracted to the sensitive, artistic type. They didn’t go around shouting to get their way, bullying young women who had little power to do anything but apologize. “I’m sure we’re open, sir. I’m just not sure what you’re trying to ask me, since you couldn’t be talking to me if we weren’t open.”

“Don’t get smart,” he snapped.