Rinn double-checked the ID against the number that he had written down. Then she smiled again. “Feel free to look around the store while you wait.”

The man shook his head incredulously. “Kid, I’m trying to get rid of books. Not buy more of them.”

And you just ruined me telling the love of my life that I was in love with him, so I think we’re even, bud. “I’ll just be a minute.”

A new pair of hands slapped the sales desk, and Rinn looked up, expecting to paste on her most patient, but also most threatening smile. It was the Please do not make me go get my manager smile, because Rinn knew that Jo would always be on her side. Jo, blessedly, never thought the customer was right when they were behaving aggressively with young female staff. Instead, Rinn looked up to see Imogen’s girlfriend, Lena. She was clicking her shining, stiletto-shaped, baby-pink nails against the counter.

Oh no.

“Hey there, sunshine. Any chance you’ve seen my girlfriend?” Lena was smiling like she’d lost track of her keys or her phone or something. Like Imogen was an everyday kind of thing that she misplaced and there was no harm in it.

Rinn sputtered. She had never been very good at being put on the spot. It was honestly possible that Imogen hated Rinn, but Rinn felt protective of her the way she would have any of Wild Nights’ employees. They didn’t have to like each other, but they did need to look out for each other. “I. Uh. I think. Well. Imogen is here. She is definitely here. She’s probably here.”

It was just that Rinn was a horrible liar and probably couldn’t cover for a person if the saving of the world depended on it.

Lena gave Rinn a look of skeptical confusion. “Yes, I know that. She told me she was working today. She jetted from my house so fast yesterday that I wanted to drop by and give her this. She left it at my house.” Lena held up something. It was a black leather jacket, as though Imogen didn’t already own the world’s supply of those.

“I’ll go see if she’s available.” Rinn made a move to leave the register.

But of course, the bird-watching man saw her, like he was some kind of hawk. “Excuse me, miss, you haven’t finished tallying my books yet.”

“I need a quick second to go look into something for this woman here, sir.”

“She doesn’t look like a customer.” The man eyed Lena, from her nails to her sleek bob to her denim jacket.

“That’s rude,” said Lena, completely nonplussed.

“Are you a customer?” Birdman folded his arms across his chest.

Lena shook her head. “No, but that’s still rude.”

The man waved his hands toward the books. “I rest my case.”