Instead, Imogen leaned back, because she’d had enough of that kind of trouble for a long while. “No, that’s on me. I didn’t see you.”

“Here for the Harvey signing?” The girl’s voice was hopeful, for reasons that Imogen could not fathom, didn’t want to fathom.

Imogen resisted the urge to say God no and go running in the other direction. She pointed to her name tag. “Nope, just work here.”

“Lucky,” said the girl with what was nearly a flirtatious smile.

It took all of Imogen’s willpower not to bat her eyelashes right back. “Not for much longer.”

Then Imogen shrugged, and turned around before the girl could say anything else. Imogen faced the register again. While she wasn’t exactly a big fan of Jo right now, she wasn’t going to leave the only source of money for the store completely vacant. There was enough mismanagement going on around here that Imogen didn’t need to add to it. She was, if she could, going to temporarily destroy the horrible metaphor that was opening up a pitiful chasm of nothing in her chest.

Imogen should have foreseen that Little Miss Perfect would abandon her post for that absolute dirtbag of an author. Everything about that guy—from his elbow-patch jacket to his too-shiny hair—screamed, I look up to Michael Bay. Imogen was glad that she had ignored the girl waiting for a Harvey signing. That couldn’t be the kind of girl for her. Imogen knew better than to say any of these thoughts out loud, though. She’d only get a dirty look from Daniella and a corrective comment from Little Miss Perfect.

Except, maybe Imogen wouldn’t have gotten flak from Daniella, because that girl had made herself scarce. Maybe, for once, she and Imogen agreed on this one thing. That Brock Harvey ought to be avoided at all costs.

Imogen wasn’t going to hold her breath on that one, though.

When Imogen got behind the counter, nobody was waiting in line. She checked the till, and all the cash was in there. She checked in with her badge and the register popped open. She closed it back again as she flipped open the paper holder.

Imogen never liked running out of paper while a customer was checking out. During a lull was the right time to change the paper over so she didn’t have to worry about it at all. They—the customers—inevitably stared at her, wondering what was taking so long, and the moment was awkward, and Imogen would avoid that if she could.

Imogen never could remember where Jo kept the spare paper. She looked in the drawer under the register, but there wasn’t any in there. She checked in the cabinet underneath the register, and there was nothing in there, either.

Imogen’s kingdom for a roll of register paper.