She hated him. She hated everything about him. Everything. She hated him from his ridiculous hipster man bun to the some how even more outrageous bit of silver dangling from his earlobe. She absolutely hated his ever present know-it-all smirk, enough sometimes to want to smack it clean off of his handsome face. She couldn't stand his perpetual teasing, whether or not his jibes had a valid basis didn't factor. She hated him. If she could only convince her pounding heart of that at this particular moment, that would be bloody fantastic. Nope, instead here she was, Elizabeth Middleton, well spoken, direct, solitary, self sufficient and going out on what easily constitutes a date with a man who is in every way the furthest thing she had imagined her ideal match to be.

Nathaniel Bonner was rugged, tall, broad and smart. He was also a gigantic pain in the arse. Nearly everyday for over a year at exactly 5:45pm he would swagger into her "happy place," ostensibly just to disrupt her peace. In the warmer months he would arrive on an obnoxiously loud motorcycle, and despite having never been on one, she also hated the mechanical beast. The shop hours were clearly posted and if he was coming to a used bookstore, clearly he had the ability to read. She should be closing up at 6pm and somehow it would only take him a mere five minutes to start some absurd debate about one author's merits versus another that would inevitably end at least an hour after closing. This occurred more times than she could count and irritated her to no end.

"Homer!? Yes, classic but there is no way that his works exceed the importance of Shakespeare. The man invented nearly two thousand words which we commonly use. How can you possibly believe that Homer's works have contributed more to humanity!?" She was right, she knew she was and it had absolutely nothing to do with her love of The Bard's works.

"Yes, Shakespeare made significant contributions to our current language but Homer left his mark far earlier. His works still send scholars and historians in pursuit of places like Troy and those works have been around for over two thousand years. Will Mr Shakespeare still be relevant with that kind of passage of time when the English language is continually evolving to include ridiculous words like "selfie"? Purely for the entertainment value but certainly not to further any pursuit of knowledge." He seemed so smug, not without reason she was loath to admit he had a point which wasn't completely absurd. He didn't have to look so damned amused as she was clearly thinking of an appropriate rebuttal and coming up short.

Elizabeth then tried to argue that Shakespeare's portrayal of women as more than damsels in distress was revolutionary for his time. Of course Nathaniel would point out that Homer clearly did the same and drew comparisons between Circe and Lady Macbeth.

Obnoxious man! It's my bloody shop and I am well educated enough to know a decent writer from a hack.

Sometimes he was more amiable and would discuss local and world events or areas of study. The sociable times were what she valued and why she never threw him out.

I have the right to refuse service, after all.

He always left just as he got her good and flustered or thoroughly intrigued with his insights at nearly the same time every evening. That was how she came to know that he was using her shop as a spot to wait for the gorgeous waitress, who she assumed was his girlfriend, to get off her shift at the café across the way. The dark-haired woman would get on the back of his motorcycle or hop into his truck, too cuddly to not be an item. It's not as though she was jealous of the woman or even the perceived relationship; Elizabeth longed to have someone smile at her in such a warm manner. The last man she thought looked at her in such a way was now engaged to her sweet, malleable and much younger cousin Amanda. When Will Spencer, proper Englishman, dumped her stating that her "independent nature meant they wanted two very different things in life". She was left feeling mildly bitter towards the male species as a whole and happy with her freedom. Still, seeing obviously happy couples made her long for a true partner in life but only slightly and very fleeting.

It's fine really I'm happy with my own space with no one's chronic judgements.

Then something happened she didn't expect: Nathaniel quit coming to argue with her. During that first week she hadn't thought much of it, chalking it up to a change in work or whatever it was he did in his own time. As time went by, one month slipped past and then another, and Elizabeth she began to miss him. Nathaniel was one of the more stimulating conversationalists with whom she had the pleasure of engaging. He could challenge her, give her things to mull over later when she was alone in her flat upstairs. When nearly six months slipped by, she decided that it was very likely that he moved from the area. She no longer saw his presumed girlfriend at the café.

Out of the clear blue sky, he reappeared.

Nathaniel came one day very close to Christmas, just after opening. He'd never done that before. He was different somehow, tired and withdrawn. For once he didn't argue with her, only giving a nod and the ghost of a smile. What could have affected him to such a degree? Elizabeth wondered. He picked up a book, making his way to the small sitting area near the shop's large from bay window and there he sat for nearly all day. By all outward appearances, he was just sitting and reading, except he hadn't actually turned more than ten pages since opening the volume somewhere in the middle.

Around late afternoon, Elizabeth had finally freed up time and the shop was empty enough for her to join him sitting in the other cozy old wingback. It was clear he was waiting for something or someone. She figured that with the shop empty he would maybe continue his tradition of sarcastic egoism.

She sat and said nothing for what seemed eternity, then blurted, "I thought you moved." After an awkward pause, she added, "Or something." It was a statement, not a question but an observation.

He looked at her then. How had she never noticed his eyes before? Hazel, reminding her of warm springs days with that odd mix of green and golden brown, fathomless. His gaze was questioning and Elizabeth knew she likely sounded like a nosey busy body.

He blinked solemnly before answering her unspoken question, "I've been busy."

She flushed and inwardly cursed herself for it answering with a quiet, "Yes, I suppose so."

They sat in companionable silence for what seemed like an eternity, each pretending to to be completely absorbed in their choice of reading material. As the last 30 minutes of shop hours drug on, Elizabeth found herself with questions that likely would never be answered. Why had he bothered to come into her shop at all? Ever? Where had he been? Why did he seem so changed? It wasn't her place to ask any of these questions and if she was ever honest with herself, she only wanted to know because she somehow missed arguing with him. This last thought was disconcerting. She suddenly felt compelled to straighten up the shop, prepare for another day of holiday shoppers.. As she made to rise, Nathaniel finally spoke. "I like to come here for semblance of peace and quiet."

She paused to look at him; he was watching her in a way that made her keenly aware of every fault she possessed.. What was she supposed to say to that? Was it a compliment on the atmosphere of her place of business? Or was he annoyed that she was awkwardly trying to keep him company? He seemed able to pluck her thoughts right from her mind because he apparently found something in her rather amusing. And there's that bloody know-it-all smirk again.

"It wasn't meant to be an insult, Boots, just a statement of fact," he said in his normal condescending manner. Good Lord, she hated him, especially when he made her blush.

Boots!? Her eyes flared and she repeated aloud, "Boots!?"

Nathaniel gave her a pointed look with a raised brow, his eyes flickering from her. boots back up to her face. Ugh. Of course. While her choice footwear may not be practical for either the time of year or the location, her Docs were sturdy, well worn and comfortable.

"Oh."

He was still just looking at her as if searching for something to say, but really, what was there? She needed to close up. There was a cuppa waiting to be prepared upstairs in her flat. Whatever she thought he had to say, it certainly wasn't the next statement out of his mouth.

"Would you like to get a bite with me, Boots? After you lock up, of course."

Stunned would have been an understatement. Utterly dumbfounded, on the other hand, was far more apt. Elizabeth felt her stomach hit the soles of her feet. It's not as though he was unattractive, quite the opposite really. In her mind, however, he was rather like a lynx; mysterious, elusive, and even charming when he wasn't driving her nuts being an absolute know it all. Doesn't he have a girlfriend to be picking up? No. If he did he wouldn't have asked out of the blue. He could have asked her out anytime in the past near year and a half. After what felt an infinite amount of time but really could have only spanned the space of five heartbeats, Oh God how long have I been sitting here staring at him!? She answered in the affirmative and scurried off to lockup before her face was completely crimson.

Nathaniel was patient as she went about tidying up even going so far as to help her sort and put a few piles of books away. While they worked as a team it gave her time to think about the entirety of their acquaintance thus far. She was sure she had hated him. Maybe it was because he seemed to be too perfect. Perfectly unattainable. Perhaps that's what bothered her so much. If she was being honest he wasn't a bad sort, he challenged her and she liked it.

Lights out, doors locked and thoroughly bundled against the frigid season, they set off. Elizabeth had expected Nathaniel would lead them to the café he used to frequent on behalf of the pretty, dark haired woman. As she started walking in that general direction, she noticed he wasn't with her. Turning to look she noticed him standing there clearly not even considering his former haunt.

"If you aren't too put out by it, Boots, I figured we could get Chinese?"

"It's Elizabeth, actually, Mr Bonner. And yes, Chinese sounds lovely."

"Nathaniel."

Returning to his side, he held out his hand to her. She looked at it as if it was a completely foreign object, and then looked into his eyes. Big mistake. She took his hand and colored at his wolfish grin.