Page 70 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
“Sounds like they’re having fun,” he says, his words hovering somewhere over my left ear.
“Mmm,” I manage to get out. I’m not sure he’s entirely right; whatever’s going on back there is bordering on heated. “Better go see what’s going on.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders for a brief second, and I can’t help but notice how far they span; almost the full width of that space, from my neck to the slope of my shoulders. He could spread his fingers and reach my upper arms. His thumb could caress my neck in gentle, sweeping motions—
I shake my head abruptly, surprised by the turn my thoughts have taken. “Whew,” I say, shaking it again. Then I give my cheeks a few firm pats and step away from Soren. “Okay, let’s see what they’re going on about,” I say.
The voices grow louder as I make my way through the bookshelves and back to the checkout counter. When I emerge, I find my brother and my employees almost exactly as I imagined I would: Calvin and Gemma behind the counter, Eric in front, all of them leaning on it.
“No,” Gemma is saying as she shakes her head. “No. If it doesn’t have a happily ever after at the end, it’s not a romance.”
“It doesn’t have to have a happily ever after,” Eric argues. “As long as there’s romance in it, it’s romance. What else would you call it?” he says, incredulous. “It’s right there in the name.Romance.”
“Yes,” Gemma says, and I can tell she’s growing increasingly more irritated, “but for a book to be called aromance book,it has to end with the couple being happy.”
“She’s right,” Calvin says to Eric, looking embarrassed. He always looks at my brother with hero worship eyes, despite Eric having done nothing to earn it. “Sorry, man.”
Eric throws his hands up in the air. “Take a book that’s completely about a romance, where the couple doesn’t end up together, and tell me what else you’re supposed to call that. The romance is the only thing in the book.”
“Literary fiction,” Soren says, just as I chime in, “Women’s fiction.”
We look at each other, surprised, and then both of us nod—I think acknowledging that either of us could be correct.
“This is not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” Soren says, leaning back against the counter next to Eric and then looking over at him. “You’re not dealing with generic descriptions; you’re dealing with genre expectations and publishing labels. If a reader picks up a book labeledromance, they’re expecting a happily ever after, and they probably won’t be happy if they don’t get one. That doesn’t mean that what’s happening in other books isn’t romance; it means that theprimary genreis not romance.”
“But what if the book isn’t about anything else?” Eric says, still frustrated.
“Then it’s either literary fiction or women’s fiction,” I say. “If it focuses on a woman’s inner journey, it’s women’s fiction. Usually romance isn’t the only thing going on, though. Even if a book is mostly character driven, there’s still stuff going on. It just might not be heavy on external plot.” Then I frown at my brother. “Why are you here?”
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I came to tell you that I’m going out to the hot springs tomorrow. We got some new men’s hiking boots in last week that I want to try. Invitation is open to anyone who wants to come”—he points at us—“as long as no one mentions romance novels.”
“What time?” I say. I haven’t gone yet this year, but I’d like to.
He shrugs. “I was thinking of leaving around ten. We can drive out, make the hike, spend the afternoon there, and then come back before dark.”
I bite my lip, looking at Gemma. “We’d lose a day of sales,” I say.
“Your call,” Gemma says—like the amazing friend she is. But I can see how hopeful she is, her eyes shining, her perfect brows raised expectantly.
I sigh. “Yeah, all right. It won’t hurt too much. We’ll come.” I look at the men. “You guys want to join?” I’m talking mainly to Soren, if we’re being honest, although I don’t mind Calvin at all. In fact…
“Hey,” I say to my twenty-three-year-old employee. “Calvin.” I turn my body toward him and open my arms wide. “Want to give me a hug?”
“Of course,” he says immediately, a giant smile breaking over his face.
The corners of my lips twitch. He’s such a little ray of sunshine.
The sunshine bounds around the counter and all but flies to me, engulfing me in a warm hug with lanky arms. “Why are we hugging?” he says into my ear, and I can hear that he’s still smiling. “Are we making someone jealous?”
My twitching lips pull into a real smile. “Not quite,” I say, returning his hug. “Let’s just stand like this for a second. I’m testing something.”
“You got it,” Calvin says. His arms tighten around me. “We can stay here all day.”
“Another minute should be fine,” I say, still smiling. I poke around at my insides while I speak, connecting to my heartbeat, examining my breaths. They’re even, my pulse steady, and—perhaps most tellingly—the only emotion I really feel is a generic contentedness. I like Calvin; he’s a sweetheart, and a great employee, and a good friend. But I don’t feel warm or flushed from his touch; I don’t want to burrow into his chest and stay like this forever.
It’s as I suspected. I think I actually have romantic feelings for Soren Mackenzie, my favorite author. And what’s more…I think I might have feelings for him even if he’d never written a single book.
I rotate Calvin and me so that I can see Soren over Calvin’s shoulder. His blue eyes are on us, watchful, and although he doesn’t look annoyed, he does look antsy; his fingers are drumming on the countertop, and his entire body seems alert. Under the lights of the bookshop, his tanned skin and perfect hair seem to glow. Like he’s some sun god from ancient times, beautiful and golden and unattainable.
