Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Every now and then, I check what the man is up to before glancing at Vincent.
“Do you have any books about baking?” the customer asks.
“Yes.” I leave the counter and head to the aisle where he’s waiting. Grabbing a book off the shelf, I hold it out to him. “This one is pretty straightforward. You don’t need a degree to follow the recipes.”
“Oh good.” He pages through it then gives me a smile. “I’ll go with this one.”
“Great.” I take the book from him and head back to the counter.
“Hey, little man,” I hear him talk to Vincent. My eyes flick to my baby before they settle on the customer.
Leave him alone.
Luckily he doesn’t approach my son and comes to join me at the counter.
“So, I couldn’t help but notice you don’t wear a wedding ring.”
Oh crap.
He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties. With dark blond hair and blue eyes, he’s not bad looking. I’m sure any woman would like to date him. Just not me.
“I’m a widow.” The lie normally works to scare off men.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Sure you are.
“I was wondering whether you’d like to have dinner with me?”
I almost let out a sigh but suppress it. “Thanks for asking, but I can’t. My son and the bookstore take up all my time.”
He stares at me for a moment, then smiles. “I’m going to keep trying until you say yes.”
Packing his purchase into a paper bag, I hold it out to him. “It will be a waste of your time. I’m not interested in dating at all.”
“I’m sure I can change your mind.”
Geez, dude. Stop already!
When I don’t reply quickly enough, he adds, “You can bring your son to dinner. I won’t mind.”
Trying to remain polite, I say, “Thank you for the invite but no. I’m really not interested.”
“Okay. I’ll accept defeat this time.” He gives me a flirty smile. “But I’ll see you soon.”
Dammit.
He walks to the door, then looks at me again. “By the way, I’m Barry.”
I don’t give him my name and just half-heartedly wave so he’ll leave.
When the door jingles behind him, I let out a sigh and shake my head before getting back to work.
When I’m done sorting the new books, I place them in a cart and head toward the aisles.
“Mommy, I need to wee,” Vincent calls from his corner.
“I’m coming, baby.” I shove a book into an open slot and hurry to the back. “Let’s get you to the restroom.”
I take him to the back and point to his little potty.
“Wait for me,” he orders as he pulls down his shorts.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him. Even though he wets the floor, I still praise him. “You’re such a big boy.”
I wait for him to pull up his shorts and open the faucet so he can wash his hands.
“Mommy’s big little man,” I murmur lovingly.
“Tsk.” He gives me a frown. “I can’t be big and little at the same time.”
Letting out a chuckle, I say, “You’re right. You’re just Mommy’s big boy.”
We walk back to his corner, and I ask, “Are you hungry?”
He shakes his head and lies down on his tummy to continue coloring in the picture.
When I turn around to get back to work, it’s to see Barry coming into the store with flowers.
Dear God. The man doesn’t understand the meaning of no.
Barry gives me a grin that would make most women swoon. “I’m back for round two, hoping I can change your mind.”
When he holds the red roses out to me, I shake my head. “I’m not going to accept the flowers, and I won’t change my mind. I’m really happy with my life and would appreciate it if you stopped trying.”
“Look, I’m a nice guy. Would it hurt you to have one dinner with me?”
I let out a sigh, and lifting my hand, I rub my forehead. Giving it one final try, I say, “I still love the father of my child, and I always will. There’s no place in my heart or life for another man.”
“I’m not expecting you to stop loving your son’s father.”
God, give me strength.
“This is making me uncomfortable.”
Much to my annoyance, he places the roses on the counter. “Just as friends? I’m not asking for anything romantic.”
Losing my patience, I snap, “What I’d like is for you to respect my wishes. Please leave the store.”
“Mommy,” Vincent calls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, baby,” I tell him sweetly before leveling the man with a glare. “Leave before I call the cops.”
“You don’t have to be a fucking bitch,” Barry snaps. He grabs the flowers and storms out of the store.
Was all of that really necessary?
Letting out another sigh, I return to work, but after a few minutes, I feel bad for how I handled Barry.
You said no, and he didn’t listen. End of story.