Debbie Macomber - Blossom Street Bundle

With exaggerated effort, he rolled back his wheelchair, allowing her to exit the row.

Barbie pushed the sleeve of her soft cashmere sweater up her arm and hung her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she told him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

“I won’t.”

When she entered the lobby again, she saw that Tessa was working behind the concession stand. The girl looked curiously in her direction and Barbie nodded. She grabbed some napkins to wipe her hands, then walked over to wait her turn. She made an impulsive purchase, smiling as she did.

“How’s it going?” Tessa asked, handing her the change.

“He wants me to leave.”

Tessa seemed worried. “You’re not going to, are you?”

Barbie shook her head. “Not on your life.”

Tessa nearly rubbed her hands together with glee. “This is so cool.”

“What is?”

The teenager shrugged. “Well, you know. You and my uncle Mark. He needs someone in his life. He doesn’t think so, but… well, it’d just be so cool if that someone was you.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Tessa.” Barbie felt obliged to warn her. “I’d better get back. The movie’s about to start.”

“Don’t let him give you any crap,” the girl advised. “Oops, I mean attitude.”

Barbie grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

Attitude was the right word, she mused as she made her way into the theater. It wasn’t hard to figure out that his surliness was an attempt to protect himself from pain and rejection. If there was one thing she knew about, it was dealing with the insecurities of the adolescent male. And if she had her guess, he’d reverted to that kind of negative behavior after his accident. Beneath all the hostility, he was as lonely and lost as she was.

The film was just beginning as she reached their row. She stood in the aisle, waiting for him to roll his chair back.

“Excuse me,” she said when he pretended not to notice. “I’d like to sit down.”

“Must you?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes, I must.” Taking the initiative, she raised her leg and attempted to climb over his lap. He got the message fast enough when she presented him with an excellent view of her rear. He shot back with enough force to bolt into the empty space two rows back.

Barbie reclaimed her seat, then tossed him a chocolate bar. “Oh, here,” she said. “I thought this might sweeten your disposition.”

He tossed it back. “My disposition is as good as it gets. Chocolate isn’t going to change it.”

“Fine. I’ll eat it then.”

From that point on, she ignored him and he ignored her.

The movie, another romantic comedy, was delightful and Barbie quickly got involved in the plot. She and Mark didn’t exchange a word until the credits were rolling and the lights came back on.

“That was really good,” she said to no one in particular.

“It was sappy,” Mark muttered.

“Naturally you’d say that,” she protested. “Don’t you believe in the power of love?”

“No.”

So why had he chosen this movie? “Well, I happen to believe in it,” she told him.

“Good for you.” He wheeled back and started out of the theater, with Barbie keeping pace five steps behind him. Tessa, still at the concession stand, glanced at her eagerly. She gave the teenager another thumbs-up, and the girl returned a huge grin.

Just outside the complex, he unexpectedly wheeled around and confronted her. “Are you going to make a habit of this?” he demanded. The corners of his mouth curled scornfully.

“Of what?” she asked, playing dumb.

“Monday night at the movies. The only reason you’re here is to irritate me.”

“I didn’t realize I had to pay money to do that. Couldn’t I just sit out here and do it for free?”

He pinched his lips tightly closed.

“I enjoy the movies and Monday’s a good night for me.”

“Come another night,” he said.

“I don’t want to.”

Frustration showed in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” she asked, again feigning innocence. “You mean coming to the movies two weeks in a row on a Monday night?”

“Yes.”

“Well, like I said, Monday evenings are good for me and movies are my favorite form of entertainment.”

One look told her he didn’t believe a word of it. “Then how come you picked the same movies I did?”

She tried to pretend she was bored with the subject. “If memory serves me, I was seated first last week. You’re the one who invaded my space.”

He frowned as if he’d forgotten that. “Maybe so, but this week was no accident.”

“You seem to have an inflated opinion of your charms.” His mouth opened and he seemed about to launch a comeback, but she didn’t give him a chance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. Good night, Mark.”

He frowned. “How do you know my name?”

“I asked. I’m Barbie, by the way. Barbie Foster.”

“Barbie,” he repeated and snickered. Then he laughed outright. “Barbie. It figures. You’re about as plastic as they come.”

“And you’re about as rude as any man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“Then stay away from me and we’ll both be happy.”

“Maybe,” she said flippantly as she reached for her car keys, buried deep inside her giant purse. “And maybe not. I haven’t decided yet.” She left him then, with a decided sway to her hips. It was an image she hoped would stay with him for a long time.

Chapter 10

Tuesday was a good sales day at the bookstore, which wasn’t typical. Anne Marie had worked out a careful method of maintaining inventory, balancing the number of mainstay and classic books she kept on the shelf with the new ones. It was crucial to have a wide range of titles. Relatively new to the business, she was learning as she went. Past experience had come from a part-time job at the University of Washington campus bookstore. Her previous career, as a customer service rep at a national insurance company, had taught her some valuable skills, too—but she hadn’t loved it and was glad enough to give it up, at Robert’s suggestion, to work in the bookstore, with an eye to eventually buying it.

The store was independent and needed an edge to compete with the large chains. Each bookstore, whether a chain store or an independent, was important in its own way. Blossom Street Books served the community. Over the past four years, since the renovations to the entire neighborhood, the store had developed a following and earned the loyalty of local residents. Anne Marie hadn’t wanted to specialize, like some independents did, in mystery fiction or cookbooks or children’s books; she preferred to meet all her customers’ book-buying needs. She ordered books for them, ran several reading groups, offered competitive discounts on bestsellers and provided a cozy, intimate atmosphere. She’d made the store as inviting as possible, with comfortable chairs, a gas fireplace and warm lighting.

Her clientele depended on Anne Marie for recommendations and updates on authors and publishing houses. She’d managed the store before she bought it, to make sure she really wanted to take on her own business, and in the process familiarized herself with the industry.

Even as a child, Anne Marie had been an inveterate reader. She’d found her adventures in the pages of a book. Never outgoing, or one to stand out in a crowd, she’d been her husband’s opposite in personality. Robert had been gregarious and sociable, and they’d complemented each other well. He was fun to be around, and that had attracted her from the beginning. Their age difference had never concerned her because he didn’t seem older. Except when it came to having another child…