My jaw drops. “Am I supposed to be flattered? Because that’s incredibly sexist, not to mention patronizing and…”
“Demeaning?” he adds helpfully.
I have the urge to kick him.
He laughs. “It’s just an observation. Right now our camera is fixed on the field, but there might be opportunity for video, too. And you have nice eyes. Except when you frown and you get these weird slash marks between your eyes.” He points. “Yeah. Like those. I love the vintage tees, but your sandals are hideous. We’ll cut those out of our publicity photo.”
“Publicity photo?”
“We need to submit it with our game tape.”
It’s all I can do not to scream. “There is going to be no game tape. I’m not saying yes.”
“Because I don’t like your sandals?”
“Leave my sandals out of this!”
“That’s my point exactly.” His eyes gleam. “See, we’re already in agreement. Say yes. It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t do things because they’re fun.”
His grin hitches up on one side. “That’s your problem right there.”
I gasp. I don’t even know what to say to that. To him. He’s a force of nature, but I’m not going to give in. “Go away, Garrett.” I put my hand on the door to the bookstore. It feels like a hold on reality. Books are inside. My StoryClub kids. Brandi, my no-nonsense boss. Bryan, the new hire, with the cute glasses and the shy smile who made me an origami owl on Saturday. He’s the kind of guy I want to spend time with. Steady. Smart. Trustworthy. A guy who plays no games.
Not a guy who only plays games.
I pull open the door. “I’m not going to say yes.”
He holds the door open as I walk in. I can hear the smile in his voice. “That wasn’t a no,” he calls after me. “I think we’re making progress.”
Chapter Six
“Hi, Brandi.” I’m still breathing hard after jogging to the office to stuff my purse in a cubby and then searching most of the store before I find my boss. She’s at the computer station in the picture book section, looking like a teenager in a Lion King tee with jeans and Converse high tops. You’d never know she runs the entire children’s department. Well, unless you heard her pissed off. Then she’s scary.
She smiles when she sees it’s me. “Hey, Josie. You ready for Book Club?”
“Always.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She twists her long brown hair into a bun and fans her neck. “The princess book turned out to be a hit. We have ten girls today and two boys.”
“Twelve?” Usually, Wednesday’s Book Club gets about seven or eight kids. I run the gathering every week and we read a book and then the kids do a craft. But once a month, we have a special story that the kids are encouraged to read on their own, like a real book club. Usually, I have the kids act out their favorite parts, but I’m wondering if that might be a little wild with a dozen bodies in the activity room.
“They’re waiting for you,” Brandi says. “Good luck.”
I hear the buzz of noise before I even reach the room. Pausing behind one of the doors, I take a peek. Book Club is meant for kids in kindergarten through second grade, but there are a few preschoolers here, too. I smile when I see Ciera’s sparkly pink dance shoes. She can’t resist an opportunity to dress up. Talia is wearing a tiara and mimicking Ciera’s pirouettes. My shy ones—Lola and Kate—are waiting in the safe zones of their moms’ legs. Bryson is running in a circle around the room while Javier stomps his foot, trying to get them to settle down. He’s my rule follower and he sees me first, his whole body going limp with obvious relief that I’ve arrived. My heart takes over, pumping warm, gooey happiness through my veins. Even the commotion makes me smile.
I step in, calling out, “Who read the book?”
There’s a tiny breath of pause and then twelve voices chant, “Josie!” and “I did I did!”
I have to plant my feet to withstand the onslaught as half a dozen bodies hurl themselves at my waist. I dish out as many hugs as I can, smiling over the top of their heads and making eye contact with the ones who held back. I recognize them all, and I’m glad to see a few I wasn’t sure would come again. “All right, everyone. You know the drill.”
The parents wave goodbye as the kids run to the round rug. They settle themselves while Javier does a loop to be sure everyone is in their place. My seat is the throne at the head of the circle. I made it myself out of a straight-backed chair and an upholstered headboard I found at a garage sale. James cut the headboard for me and nailed it to the chair, and I decorated the material with cutout stars and hearts. Brandi gave it two thumbs up and declared that I was officially in charge of both toddler groups. That was a year ago.
It’s what I’m going to miss most when I graduate.
Seated on my throne, I take a minute to commit this scene, this feeling, to memory. All eyes on me, a fizz of excitement in the room. The kids are ready to go where I lead. It feels good to be trusted that way. To be able to trust them, too.
“So,” I begin, “today’s book is called Pizza Breath.”
Voices rise along with their little bodies. “Josie! Noooooooo!”
“Oh dear!” I clap my hands over my cheeks. “Was it Socks for my Head?”
There are hysterical giggles and a louder chorus of “Noooooooo!”
“Then who can tell me what book we read?”
“Princess Pudding!”
“Yes!” I say, and I pull my copy from under my throne. “Princess Pudding. Who can tell me something special about the princess?”
“She loves pudding!”
