After helping another customer, I look around the store and sigh in contentment. I freaking love my job. People enter Once Upon hesitant, hopeful, eyes flitting across the shelves in search of something special, and I get to help them. I get to comb the shelves and come up with the right title to brighten their entire week or even year. There’s nothing quite like the perfect book—nothing else in the world that can shine a light on something deep down inside of you, that can burrow into your heart and make you feel seen and heard. Holiday bonus or not, finding that perfect book for someone is a greater burst of adrenaline than even my most legendary sugar rush (Halloween, 2016).
I notice Daniel is finishing up with a customer as well, pointing them over to the registers with a pleasant smile. I size him up with sudden suspicion. Daniel, reader of all the books, speaker of countless recommendations, wearer of Spider-Man socks. He’s one of the few employees in the store more well-read than me and just as personable. If I have competition for the bonus, he’s it. And just because we’re nerdy BFFs who once came up with 101 alternate titles for the Harry Potter books together (including Harry Potter and the Goblet of Teenage Angst and Harry Potter and the Deathly Angst), it doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on him.
Daniel notices my gaze and laughs as he approaches me, running a hand over his hair. “You should see the look in your eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d be scared of you, Shoshanna Greenberg.”
“So…,” I say. “Planning to win the bonus?”
He winks. “Subtle. But don’t worry. I’m not working enough shifts to win. Family is in town early for Christmas, so I won’t be pulling doubles like you.”
“Oh, good,” I say, feeling quick relief.
Daniel laughs again as his phone chimes. He checks it and says, “Ah, Lola is here. I’m heading out.” He salutes me. “See you later, Greenberg.”
I salute back. “Until tomorrow, Rhodes.”
He walks away, sliding his phone into his pocket and high-fiving Myra on the way out, and a little sigh escapes me. Not to be all cliché or whatever, but it’d be nice to have someone during the holidays. Daniel has Lola, and it’s totally understandable why Cheyenne is all lustful after her ex, Anna. Who doesn’t want to cozy up with someone during the cold weather? Of course it’s at the exact moment of that thought that I look up and find Jake standing in the adult fantasy section. He’s talking with a customer, laughing and running a hand through his luscious head of curls. I bite my lip as my eyes flicker from his jaw to his flannel all the way down to his brown boots, and I wonder for just a moment…
But then the laughing stops. And Jake looks awkward, and the customer gives a This guy is no help sigh. So in a burst of holiday goodwill, and definitely for no other lustful reasons, I decide to lend a hand.
I walk over and keep my voice bright as I ask, “Can I help you find something?”
“I’ve got it, thanks,” Jake answers.
I step up to him close enough to whisper, “Just let me help.” When he looks at me, I almost wobble backward. His dark brown eyes are intense, “swoonworthy,” some might say, and up close they make my head light, my thoughts slow yet heady, like I just downed two glasses of wine at a seder. I manage, barely, to keep my voice level as I tell him, “You can keep the sale.”
Those swoonworthy eyes narrow as he scratches his neck with two fingers. I find myself staring at the soft patch of skin a second too long. “Really?”
I clear my throat and flick my eyes back to a safe area—also known as a piece of lint on my cardigan sleeve. “Really,” I promise. “I kicked bookselling butt this afternoon. It’s not like an extra sale will bring you anywhere close to beating me.”
“Fine,” he relents, and I swear I sense a small grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, then.”
My pulse ticks faster than usual. I really did step up close to Jake, close enough I can feel the warmth of him through my cardigan and his flannel. My cheeks heat as I turn to the woman standing in front of us and focus my attention on her instead of Jake and Jake’s warmth. She’s holding a stack of three books, but her frown tells me she’s unhappy with the choices.
I stick out my hand. “Hi! I’m Shoshanna. Can I help you find something?”
She shifts the books and shakes my hand. “I’m looking for a gift for my dad. He likes fantasy, and I want to get him something recent, written by a woman, if possible.”
“Oh!” I say. “He has to read Time Stands Still. It’s the best series to—”
She shakes her head. “No, I want something recent.”
“It’s recent!”
She gives me a weird look. “Didn’t that series end, like, a decade ago?”
Well, in the history of literature, I’d still call that pretty dang recent, but the customer is always right, especially when I’m showing Jake the definition of exemplary customer service, and I’m still very aware of Jake at my side. “Right! Okay, so we have a display table of new fantasy. Let’s see if any of those are the right fit!”
I try to lead her off to the display, but she stays put. “Anything you’d specifically recommend?”
“Every single one is a staff recommendation!” I assure her, finally ushering her over to the table. Jake trails behind us, and we all pick through the titles together. Now that I’m looking at the display, I realize I haven’t read any of these. I love fantasy. It’s basically my favorite genre, but I guess I’m a little behind, which can happen when you reread your favorite series approximately eight times in a row and also read assorted fanfiction for that series. I feel the woman’s hesitancy and hate the discomfort of not having an immediate solution. I rack my brain, but every title that comes to mind was released at least a few years ago.
“So something like Time Stands Still but recent?” Jake asks.
“Exactly!” the woman replies.
“It’s a great series,” Jake says.
Oh, come on. He hasn’t read it.
“One second…” Jake pulls out his phone, and after a minute of typing and tapping, he says, “How about Elyse Greene’s Willow Warrior series?”
“Have you read it?” she asks.
“Not yet,” he responds, “but I’m planning to soon. It’s on a list of recently released reads for fans of Time Stands Still.”
She claps her hands together. “Oh, that’s perfect!”
Anxiety pulses through me. Can Jake really sell books that way? With lying and a smartphone? What if it’s a good strategy? What if he wins the bonus, and I don’t have enough money to fix Barbra, and my moms will keep fighting about it, and—
Before I can stop myself, I’m saying, “Oh, I know exactly where that one is! Follow me!” I spin on my heel and lead the woman back to the fantasy shelves. I find the book and pass it over, along with my own QR code. “Just hand this in up front, thanks so much. Happy holidays!”
After the woman heads to the register, Jake walks up to me, jaw tense, swoonworthy eyes now alight with annoyance. “Seriously? You said that was my sale.”
His words hit harder than expected, and my shoulders tighten. I did say that was his sale. I just got anxious and panicky about losing the bonus. “You’re right,” I admit. “I’m sorry. But you also basically stole my sale this morning with Ryan the Jimmy Carter fan. So. We’re kind of even.”