Title: Bastian
Series: The Brownstone Diaries
Author: Sol Crafter
Genre: mm contemporary romance
A/N: This excerpt is the start of the story. Looking for beta readers if anyone is interested. And of course, once it’s all done and published for real, there’s acknowledgements and a free good copy.
Summary: A bookshop clerk meets a lawyer and they both get a little crushy on each other. Like literally.
EXCERPT–
BASTIAN
By Sol Crafter
The shop was quiet and still as Bastian reached beneath the counter for some handi-wipes. His fingers felt grimy after he’d feather-dusted the books and rearranged some of the shelves. It was just another boring Thursday.
Quickly wiping his hands clean, he threw the wipes in the garbage and settled down on the stool behind the cash register. He had another hour before he could lock up and head home. Not that he had much to look forward to there. Dinner and maybe a bit of TV. Thrilling.
Bastian sighed and pulled out the graphic novel he’d tucked onto the shelf under the counter edge. It wasn’t the best, but he kind of wanted to finish it after investing so much time in it and having to special order it and all the drama he’d basically put himself through.
He’d probably read three pages when there was the cheerful jingle of the bells hanging from the door and he hurriedly looked up. He straightened his shoulders and tried to appear attentive. Then he got a good look at the customer and there was no way he could be anything else.
Standing in front of the double doors was a man in a gorgeous dark gray, nearly black suit and a dark maroon vest that matched his silk tie with an open gray trench coat over top. His brown hair was wind tousled and he pushed his silver framed glasses back up his nose with his finger as he stepped all the way into the store, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking on the hardwood as he left the welcome mat. He was tall and broad shouldered and there was no way Bastian was hiding his ogling in any kind of real way, because holy crap, that was one good looking guy.
“Hello, can I help you?” Bastian asked. Covertly, he slipped his book back under the counter.
The man zeroed in on him and strode forward with a smile. “Yeah, do you think you can point me toward any copies of ‘Alice In Wonderland’ you have?”
Bastian stepped out from behind the counter. He hurriedly tugged his dark green bowling shirt straight and hoped he didn’t look as messy as he felt. “We have new and used copies. Do you have a preference?”
“I’ve been collecting copies for my niece Alice, so if you have some nice used copies… That would be wonderful.” He smiled, flashing a set of white-white teeth.
There was no way Bastian could help the heat that flashed through him. Dark brown hair, light caramel colored skin, and beautiful teeth–it was like all his buttons were being hit at once. There was even an authority vibe from the strong air of confidence shrouding the man and the fact that he had to be a good ten years older.
“Um, here, over here,” Bastian said, then winced internally. He sounded like a total idiot, all breathless and pitchy.
He hurriedly led the way over to the Classics section, wondering if the guy was checking out his ass or not. Just the thought of it made his heart trip-thud in his chest. He’d thought he was beyond the whole schoolgirl crush thing, but obviously not. “We’ve got five collectible copies of ‘Alice,'” he said, holding his hand out toward the dark cherry wood bookshelf and twisting around to give the guy a smile. “I remember glancing through them before they were shelved. Some of them have some very nice illustrations and one even has gold gilding.”
The man grinned at him, showing off crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “That sounds perfect.” He had a little bit of an upper-crust accent and that only added to the charm, and there was no way Bastian was indulging his English gentleman kink in his head, no way. Except he kind of was and more than anything he wanted the guy to put on a British accent and start talking about being a rogue demon hunter.
Bastian stepped sideways so the man could approach the bookcase and twisted his fingers together behind his back. He felt like his face was on fire and the hint of amusement in the man’s eyes only made him feel more self-conscious and eager to please.
“Thank you,” the man said, stepping toward the shelf and incidentally right into Bastian’s personal space. He was a few inches taller and broader across the chest, which had Bastian curiously eying the breadth of his shoulders and the tug and pull of expensive fabric over his biceps, which Bastian couldn’t help thinking might be muscular and strong and he wished the man wasn’t wearing the overcoat or the suit jacket or really anything at all.
Bastian hurriedly backed up a few steps, his high tops stumbling over each other. Here was this good looking older guy in real grown up clothes while Bastian was wearing a bowling shirt, skinny jeans, and white sneakers. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was and he wished he’d gotten that haircut he’d been planning.
The man perused the shelves, his glasses glinting on his face as he turned his head, then carefully took down and flipped through the different editions. His hands were large and strong, the fingers elegant as he handled the books, his nails well maintained. “These are really very beautiful,” he said, sounding pleased.
Bastian shrugged like it didn’t matter even though he felt a thrill of delight. “We usually get something like those from private collections. People love old books and they hold onto them. It’s kind of sad, but it’s usually after the owner dies and their family is looking to make some money that we get a hold of them.” He gestured at the books as he talked. “I made the selections on those. It was a toss up between a vintage edition of ‘Lolita’ and ‘Alice.’ I chose ‘Alice.'”
“I think you made a good choice,” the man said, smiling at him. “I’m going to take these two,” he held up the leather-bound gilded edition and a whimsical, nearly cartoonish edition. “One looks pretty antique, and the other looks like it’s off the Saturday morning cartoons. I think Alice will be really happy to get them.”
“Will that be all?” Bastian asked, walking toward the front counter.
The man looked around, a regretful expression on his face. “I want to look around more, but this was my last stop for the day and I’m expected for dinner.” Bastian felt a ridiculous rush of disappointment at the thought that the man might be married. “My sister is so impatient. There’s no way she would forgive me if I was late because I was looking at books.”
Bastian smiled brightly, unable to resist a burst of hope-hope-hope. “So you’ll just have to come here again,” he said, rocking forward on his toes a little as he dug his fingers against the metal edge of the cash register.
“I think I will,” the man said, setting the books on the counter. The corners of his lips turned up as he looked at Bastian, his dark brown eyes so intense and focused that Bastian felt like he was the only thing the man could see. “I’ve always had a fascination for books and bookshops and… shopkeepers,” his voice dipped at the last, a deep growling purr.
There was no way Bastian could keep the blush off his cheeks and he didn’t really try all that hard, just ducked his chin and let his hair fall across his eyes. He started ringing up the books and put them in a paper bag. It was only after he’d finished his task that he looked up at the man.
“Um, that’ll be $357.50,” he said. “And if you wanted to come here again, I’m sure you could find something to interest you.” Like me, went completely unsaid, though he thought it really loudly.
“Here you go,” the man slid four crisp hundred dollar bills across the counter. “I caught a glimpse of some really interesting things in here. I’m fairly certain that you’ll be seeing more of me in the future.”
Bastian hurriedly made change and passed it over. Their fingers brushed and he couldn’t stop a little hitching gasp. He met the man’s eyes and felt such an intense want that he didn’t think he hid it very well or at all. “It would be my pleasure if you came again,” he said, his cheeks burning.
The man glanced at his watch and frowned regretfully before meeting Bastian’s eyes again. “I wish I could stay longer now, but I’ve really gotta go.” He started walking toward the door, then turned back toward Bastian. “I promise I’ll be back.”
“I’ll see you next time!” Bastian called, waving his hand and watching him go. Then once the door closed behind the man, he dropped his hand into his lap and his straight spine bowed and he thumped his forehead against the counter several times. “Smooth, real smooth.”
If there was one thing he’d never managed to outgrow, it was his ability to act like a total spaz. For as long as he could remember, he’d always gotten flustered and stupid around people he liked even just a little bit.
It had to be the most embarrassing personality trait ever.
/ EXCERPT
