Trigger's Light - Carol Dawn Page 0,3
as exciting as being a firefighter or an astronaut, but it’s still the best job in the world. I get to be around books all day long. My favorite days are Wednesdays. That’s when a new shipment of books arrives.
Which happens to be today.
“I hear that we have adventures from three new authors coming today,” Ted, my boss, and owner of The Book Bin says. “And I believe two of the three are those trashy romance novels that you love so much.”
Ted is always making fun of my romance obsession. He says romance is dead, and the only way to find it is between the pages of a book.
I think he’s wrong. Romance is very much alive, and I know one day I’m going to find a guy who will fall instantly in love with me. All of me. Including my insane number of curves.
He might not look like the guys described in my favorite romance novels, because men like that don’t even glance at girls like me, but he’s going to love me, and I’m going to love him.
“You’re day-dreaming again, young lady,” Ted says, interrupting my fantasy. “One of these days, you’re going to fall into that dream world of yours, and I’m never going to get you to come back.”
“You’re not wrong,” I agree. “My hope is that one day I’ll be swept off my feet in a fit of instant love and dashed away to my happily ever after.”
“Might as well keep dreaming, Little Bit, because the only good men out there are married or gay.”
“You’re not married or gay,” I remind him.
“I revoke my statement,” he says. “I meant married, gay, or old.”
“You’re so ornery,” I say, handing him the book he’s been reading. “You’re not married, gay or old. Now, go back home and read this book.”
“Let the workers unload their truck,” he says, taking the book and heading for the door. “We’ll put everything away tomorrow.”
He pauses before opening the door.
“I’m glad you still believe in romance, Little Bit, I don’t want you to reach my age without knowing love. It can turn your heart bitter. Don’t you ever stop believing.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he leaves the building.
I’ll never stop believing in love. I hope that love finds me and easily slides itself into my life. But, even if it gives me a run for my money, I’ll fight with everything I have to hold on to it because the man who is meant to be mine will be worth it.
Call me a hopeless romantic if you want. But my heart is reaching for my forever. I’m just waiting for someone to reach back.
Two hours later, the truck drops off our weekly delivery. I know Ted told me to wait until tomorrow to start shelving everything, but I’m way too excited to get my hands on a couple of those new books.
As I’m ringing up my new purchases, the mailman walks through the door.
“Morning, Miss Thea. Anything interesting today?” He asks.
“Good morning, Charlie,” I smile. “There are a few hopefuls. I’ll let you know in a couple of days how they turn out.”
“Make sure you do. You know how the wife is always drowning me in questions every Wednesday.”
I laugh, knowing it’s true. Deborah, Charlie’s wife, is my number one customer. She buys enough books to keep the lights on in this place. I may or may not be part of that list, as well.
“I wouldn’t dare leave her waiting,” I say. “Is she enjoying the books she bought last week?”
“She finished those days ago,” he chuckles. “Now, she’s thinking about getting one of those e-readers, so she has thousands of books at hand whenever she wants.”
“Well, that’s not a bad idea,” I agree. “It would be so much simpler to have one of those instead of waiting for book deliveries. However, I rather enjoy the feeling of the pages between my fingers. And nothing beats the smell of a good book.”
He chuckles as he digs through his mailbag.
“Looks like you got something personal today, Miss Thea,” he says, handing me the mail. “Have a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Charlie,” I say, distractedly. “Give Deborah my love.”
“Will do.”
I toss the bills and junk mail on the counter and stare at the simple white envelope with my name on it. I’ve never received personal mail here before. Heck, I’ve never received any mail here.
Strange.
I open the envelope and pull out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, I read the