The Crow & Quill Bookstore.

            I stared at the piece of paper that had fallen out of the book and re-read the note for the fourth time.

            New cardigan? I like it. It brings out your eyes more than the green one.

            There were only a handful of other people in the bookstore today. A young mother and her son, who had been in the children’s section since I got here half an hour ago; an older man who I swear was determined to pick up every single memoir, read the synopsis, and put it back on the shelf; and a couple of college students, who sat in the coffee shop surrounded by stacks of books. They each wore chunky headphones, clearly engrossed in their studies.

            Aside from the three employees working–the barista, the guy at the cash register, and the owner–those were the only other people I’d seen.

            But I was wearing a new cardigan, although I didn’t pick the color because it matched my eyes. While I was getting ready for work, I spilled coffee all over the green cardigan I always wore on Wednesdays, so in spite of being a creature of habit, I had to change it up.

            Wednesdays were one of the two days a week I had to work in my office building, which was across the street, and I liked to come into The Crow & Quill Bookstore over my lunch breaks. It helped break up my day—plus new books were usually released on Tuesdays.

            Not to mention, something about this place always felt magical.

            I’d picked up an intriguing new mystery from the Staff Recommendations display, and when I’d opened the book to read the inside cover, the note had fallen out.

            It has to be for me, right? I asked myself, reading over it one more time before tucking it into my jacket pocket. It was too specific not to be. But how would someone have known I’d even pick this book up?

            “Hi sweetie,” said a feminine voice so close I jumped. “Finding everything alright?”

            I turned to see Bonnie, the owner of the bookstore. She was an older woman, probably in her early sixties, and she reminded me of Ms. Frizzle. Today, her wild auburn hair was pulled up with a book-page print scrunchie that matched her dress.

            “Yep!” I said, trying for casual. Hopefully she hadn’t seen me stash the note and assumed I was stealing something. “Just checking out the staff recommendations.”

            She nodded toward the book in my hands. “That one’s good! Logan wouldn’t stop raving about it last week and insisted we all read it. The staff hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”

            “Wow! Sounds like I picked well.”

            “I’d say so!” The corner of Bonnie’s mouth turned up, and I thought I caught a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair and let you continue browsing, but holler if you need help!”

            She was gone before I could respond.

            I continued browsing, the peculiar note never far from my thoughts. Picking up another staff recommendation (this time a romance), I jumped again when an alarm vibrated on my phone, signaling that my lunch break was almost over.

            Deciding to get both the romance and the mystery, I made my way to the cash register.

            The same guy who worked every Wednesday was there. He appeared to be in his late twenties, like me, and I was a sucker for the dark brown hair, blue eyes combo he had going on.

Unfortunately, we hadn’t made it past small talk.

            “Find everything okay?” he asked as I approached the counter.

            “I did, thank you!”

            He reached down to scan the mystery novel, and his face lit up with excitement.

            “Did you get this from the staff recommendations?”

            I nodded.

            “You are going to love this one! I meant to only read a couple chapters before bed, but I couldn’t put it down! I stayed up until 3:45 reading it.”

            I grinned at him. “You must be Logan! Bonnie saw me pick this up and said that someone named Logan made the whole staff read it.”

            He scanned the book and returned my smile. “Guilty as charged. You’ll have to let me know how you like it when you come in next week!”

            So he did recognize me.

            “You don’t think it’s going home to go die on a TBR shelf?”

            “After my very obvious attempt to get you to go home and immediately read it so you can come back and talk to me? Nah.”

            I suppressed a nervous giggle.
            “Is that a new cardigan?” he asked as he continued to finish up my transaction.

            “It is!”

            “You usually wear the green one when you come in.”

            My mind flashed to the note that had fallen out of the mystery novel. Had Logan placed it there? No, he hadn’t left the front since I’d been in.

            Who wrote it?

            “Thank you. I spilled coffee on the green one, so blue it was.”

            “I like it. It matches your eyes.”

            That’s exactly what the note had said. He must have written it, right?

            “So,” Logan continued, almost as if he knew I wasn’t sure how to respond, “since you’re going immediately home to read the book I recommended, that officially makes us friends.”

            “Oh, does it?” I said, unable to help the flirtation in my voice as I grabbed my wallet.

            “It does. Look, I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged.

            A laugh bubbled out of me.

            “But there’s only one small problem,” he said. “I don’t know your name, which is honestly making me look like a terrible friend.”

            “The worst,” I agreed, leaving him hanging.

As he tucked my receipt into the front of the romance novel, another piece of paper fell onto the counter.

            Her name’s Gracie, it said, written in the same handwriting as my own note.

            “Bonnie,” he whispered conspiratorially. “A good matchmaker, though not very subtle.”