Author Note:

I love Kali. Isaac doesn't love Kali and therefore his inner dialogue is mean to her.
I also love Brayden and I'm so glad she has a name, now, and therefore has a cameo.
Scott, in this fic, starts out a bit like Season 1 and turns into Season 3. Hence the shaggy hair and clumsiness.

This will be a longfic so... I know it doesn't feel like anything happens in this chapter. All I wanted to get accomplished was three things:
1) Establish the bookstore
2) Isaac meets Scott
3) Hale backstory (with Derek being an awful surrogate brother and Cora being a much better surrogate sister)

Throughout this story, I will be mentioning a lot of authors and book titles. If you wish to look them up for your own reading, I'll have a list in the front notes of every chapter.

The books mentioned in this chapter are:
"This Year I Will…" by M. J. Ryan
"Blink" and "Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell
"Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" by Richard Carlson
"The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" by Sean Covey
The Fifty Shades Trilogy by E.L. James
The Crossfire Novels by Sylvia Day

Also, I recommend google image searching author "Johanna Lindsey" and having a good laugh with me about cover art.


Chapter 1

Morning shifts at Alpha & Omega Booksellers were the worst. Isaac Lahey had been working for A&O for over a year and still couldn't get over the almost eerie quietness that surrounded the morning hours. Ever since the digital age took over the book industry, bookshops all over the country had fallen victim to e-content, thus significantly lowering the amount of traffic bookstores normally received.

Isaac tried to tell himself that it wasn't all bad. Isaac had more time to create displays that no one would see and shelve more books that no one would buy. Sections that had once been the pride and joy of bookstores now receded to the corners to make way for horrifying endcaps featuring the latest diet craze or entire tables devoted to the newest Maya Banks romance novel.

The Self Help and Religion sections grew and the Science Fiction and Young Adult sections shrank. He'd watched the bookstore morph into a haven that once catered to customers of all ages to a place where only patrons over the age of thirty dared to tread.

Occasionally, a youngster passed through the front doors, but only if they happened to be barely school age and screamed at their parents to let them run amok in the children's section just to press every button on the Sound Books. Isaac avoided the children's department at all costs. It was often filled with shrieking animal noises and obscure sound effects as miniature humans annoyed their parents with a sad trombone clip every time they pressed a button where Thomas the Tank Engine looked slightly disgruntled.

Isaac made sure to only shelve carts loaded with books for the side of the store furthest from screaming children. This, unfortunately, meant shelving non-fiction books and having to dodge old war veterans in the Military History section, but it was still better than endless hours of picking up stuffed animals and re-shelving the same Pete the Cat book a dozen times in one shift.

Seeing a patron close to Isaac's own age was a rarity—one that Isaac never placed much thought into until it happened. Usually he'd just stare at the poor soul and wonder why and how they wandered into a bookstore if they owned a phone with GPS.

Still, it wasn't as bad as the small Music and DVD section located in the back of the store. Cora Hale, Isaac's closest co-worker slash friend often complained that the average customer age back there was closer to sixty and it was a miracle that the store even carried new releases when all everyone wanted to buy was old westerns and out of print Cary Grant movies.

That was why, on a particularly slow day, just after most schools let out for the summer, Isaac spotted an incredibly handsome young man in the Self Improvement section and immediately took notice.

The customer in question had a battered old jacket that looked like it was a cross between leather, denim and possibly corduroy. It had a faded patch of an American flag on the side but because of the wear and tear, it looked like the patch was added later. Who added an already faded patch to an already faded jacket? It was probably a new trend from the side of fashion Isaac didn't follow.

Aside from his ferocious attire, the customer himself wasn't bad looking at all. In fact, if it hadn't been for the American flag catching him off guard, Isaac would have noticed the young man's jawline first. It looked strong and set, like maybe he'd spent his life glaring at someone or something. His hair was long for a man's and a bit shaggy. Isaac got the impression that he was either trying to look like a skateboarder or he'd simply ignored a pair of scissors for a few months. It was a bit frustrating because the hair prevented Isaac from getting a good look at the mystery customer's eyes as he poured over the titles on the shelf.

Still, he was absolutely beautiful and just the sight of him caused Isaac's breath to catch in his throat.

It wasn't a rare thing, this breath-catching phenomenon. Isaac found that most people were generally attractive, but they always had some kind of fault—like being overly annoying, or completely ignoring him or generally being a giant asshole. This guy looked like he would be none of these things, but a first look was often misleading. Isaac worked in a bookstore where he heard the term, 'Don't judge a book by its cover' almost daily.

That was the exact problem, though, everyone judged books by their cover. That was exactly why publishing companies made exciting book covers. It was kind of obvious.

Isaac's impromptu stalking routine was interrupted by an older woman asking if Johanna Lindsey had written anything new and he was forced to pry his eyes from the beautiful tanned specimen that haunted the Self Improvement section.

With an inward groan that Isaac hoped the older woman customer would not notice, he began his trek over to the romance section to pull a few books featuring various women posing seductively with shirtless, long-haired men in kilts. The old lady appeared delighted to have found a few books in which she hadn't read and Isaac was finally able to disappear into the stacks again.

It wouldn't make sense to walk over to the Self Improvement section again without any pre-established reason other than to find out how Short, Dark and Handsome's voice sounded. Isaac bet it sounded exactly how Joanna Lindsey probably described all those rugged Scottish men to sound.

With all the care and precision of an experienced bookseller, Isaac rummaged through a shelving cart until he located a few Self Improvement books that needed a home. Armed with a stack of Dr. Phil and Napoleon Hill titles, Isaac happily marched his way over to get himself a better look at the fascinating creature that was a young adult in a bookstore at eleven in the morning on a weekday.

It wasn't hard to strike up a conversation. Isaac felt the interstore communication phone on his belt and A&O Booksellers lanyard around his neck clearly identified him as an employee and therefore gave him exclusive talking privileges. Isaac said a silent thank you to the ceiling for bland openers.

"Is there a specific title you're looking for?" Isaac said as calmly and serenely as possible while simultaneously looking like he wasn't going to drop his stack of books. He didn't want to sound too breathy—that was just cliché. He had to give off the vibe that he was some sophisticated bookstore employee and not at all a college dropout.

The Mystery Man jumped a little when Isaac addressed him. Isaac often had that effect on people—which was strange, mostly considering the fact that Isaac was tall—as in freakishly tall. How could anyone miss that?

"I uh, I don't know," came a scratchy and unsure reply. Isaac found it perfect. "I'm just looking."

Isaac deflated a little. That was such a textbook copout. He was so disheartened by it that he shelved the Dr. Phil books in a completely erroneous location. "Well, if there's anything you're looking for let me know, and I'll see what I can do."

The handsome stranger flashed Isaac a smile that was probably reserved for bank tellers or the lady at the grocery store. Nevertheless, it completely changed his features. The once stoic jawline became uneven and a set of dimples surfaced that Isaac suddenly found himself wanting to see again. Isaac knew he was staring. "Thanks, man."

"No problem."

Isaac shelved the last of his books with as little finesse as possible. It was just plain awkward to continue to be in the presence of what could only be described as a modern skateboard god when there was nothing more for them to talk about. Why, oh why, did this guy have to be in the one section of the store that was the most private? One couldn't just walk up to someone in the Self Improvement section and ask if they need books on Anxiety or Addiction Recovery. These things had to be handled delicately.

Which meant that Isaac had to return to the Customer Services desk, his mission having been a failure. At that point, he wasn't even sure what his mission had been, anymore. He'd only wanted to talk to the guy, maybe learn his name—possibly even take him out for coffee. Wasn't that was people did these days? Isaac's roommate, Boyd, already had a girlfriend, so Isaac missed out on the whole two-best-friends-in-the-dating-scene part of his life.

It wasn't long before Isaac lost himself in helping customers locate various books for summer reading programs for their children and the occasional Janet Evanovich enthusiast. He'd almost forgotten about his encounter with the tanned mop-head when he heard a small, "Hey," coming from the other side of the counter.

Isaac looked up to see a pair of brown eyes and the hint of a set of dimples. Nevermind that this kid's hair was in serious need of a cut, Isaac could finally see his eyes and they were such a glorious color of café mocha that Isaac completely spaced out on the fact that he really should have acknowledged the guy with a response.

"So… it turns out I need some help after all?" The guy tried again.

Isaac shut his eyes for a second—long enough to clear his head. When he opened them again, he was back in bookseller mode. He could be professional, really, he could. Besides, the manager on duty, Kali, was working at another computer just behind him and she had serious eyes in the back of her head. There could be no flirting while she was on watch, that much Isaac knew.

"If you've got part of the title or the author of the book you're looking for, I can see what I can do," Isaac offered reflexively, his hands hovering over the home row keys on the keyboard.

"Well, see, that's the thing, I have no idea," the stranger let out a puff of laughter.

Under normal circumstances, Isaac's brain would have gone into major annoyance mode. Customers came in all the time looking for only the vague idea of a book and somehow expected one of the employees to somehow miraculously find it. Isaac had to make some extremely obscure google searches for more customers than he ever wanted.

But not this time. Isaac knew he'd developed a weak spot for this guy in less than a few minutes because he took this as the perfect opportunity to just talk and possibly get a bit more information about him. No harm, no foul, right?

"No problem, what kind of book were you looking for?"

"Um…" Rather than looking clueless, the guy actually looked embarrassed—like he didn't want to let Isaac in on the secret.

That wasn't helping. Isaac frantically searched his brain for something to say that wouldn't register as flirting by Assistant Manager Kali's standards. "Did I mention we have a bookseller-customer confidentiality policy?"

An eyebrow raise. "You do?"

"Not really, no. But I can't help you find what you're looking for, otherwise."

"Right. Yeah, so…" The stranger took a deep breath and Isaac couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders and chest puffed out in that awful jacket. Isaac placed a bet with himself then and there that this guy was probably ripped and worked out like ten times a week and played a bunch of sports and probably looked magnificent doing it. "So, I've had some pretty bad things happen this past year and I just want to fix them, you know? I want to turn my life around."

"Okay, that's a start. Do you want books on organization, then? Or… books about coping?"

"Organization?" the stranger said, his tone suggesting that he really had no idea what he was looking for. At least that was genuine and not at all an excuse to get Isaac to talk to him which may or may not have been a secret hope that Isaac hadn't known he'd put into existence.

"We've got a ton of titles for that kind of thing. Books that help you get back on the right track after a breakup or a car accident or losing a job or even just books that supposedly help you if you start thinking positively? It all depends. I have three sections: Self Improvement, Christian Inspiration, or New Age—specifically, Law of Attraction."

"Self-Improvement got me nowhere and I'm afraid the second option will just tell me to pray. What's Law of Attraction?"

"It's the belief that if you start thinking positively, good things will come your way."

"So… the same thing as Christian Inspiration."

"Essentially, but without God."

"Don't you have anything that's like one of those, 'how to slowly transform yourself like an 80s movie montage?'"

Isaac's resolve crumpled a little. The way the stranger sort of whined the last question only made Isaac like him even more. Part of him wanted to drag Cora out of the Music & DVD section just so they could ogle this beautiful bookstore gift together.

He'd been there once—to want a change so badly that only instant gratification would do. He'd done his best to get himself to where he was currently, and he liked to think he'd done a great job. He had a place to live, a good roommate and a decent job but none of it happened overnight. He'd had a lot of twists and turns before he could even get as far as he had. He wanted that instant change for this stranger, though. Whatever he'd been through, or was currently going through, certainly appeared as though it needed to be left behind and fast.

But as much as Isaac wanted to offer an instantaneous solution, he could only produce a small, sad smile. "Change doesn't happen overnight—but we'll see what we can find."

Isaac wasn't a big reader, which was strange considering his job. He'd landed the position at A&O thinking all he had to do was stock some books and say the alphabet to himself five thousand times a day. He'd been amazed at how much know-how was included in the position. Over the last year, Isaac's book count increased from the one or two curriculum-required reads he'd had in high school to about two or three books a month. The problem was that he read fiction—not Self-Help. The best he could do to help the handsome stranger was think of several titles he'd shelved recently or any popular titles other customers bought. It was worth a shot.

Rather than sort through the computer system, Isaac made a motion for the stranger to follow him back to the Self-Improvement section, but this time, he pointed out a smaller subsection identified by a small black label: Personal Growth.

In a matter of seconds Isaac was stacking the stranger's hands with several books: two titles by Malcolm Gladwell, some classics by Sean Covey and Richard Carlson and even an obscure title by M.J. Ryan.

"Don't Sweat the Small Stuff," the stranger read from one of the titles and then added a little sarcastically. "Sounds inspiring."

"I hear it's a good bathroom read," Isaac offered.

The stranger laughed as he flipped through the books in his hands. "I want something that'll tell me how to dress better and possibly make people jealous only, you know, in a completely professional and not asshole way."

"I think you need a personal trainer for that kind of thing. Or possibly a show on TLC," Isaac grinned.

Once more the stranger laughed, but this time when he did, he wasn't looking down at his books but directly at Isaac. "Thanks for doing this, man. I'll take all of these."

"All of them?" Isaac knew he was supposed to be a bookseller and therefore sell as many books as possible, but this kid couldn't be much older than he was—and what guy in their twenties had that much extra money?

"Well, yeah, if you recommended them, they have to be good."

Isaac felt a knot in his stomach forming. Visions of an angry customer coming back two days later with a lost receipt filled his head and he didn't want to be around when it happened. "Well, er, I mean, I haven't read them or anything so…"

"It's fine. I trust you. I'll get them." The guy sounded so confident in his decision that Isaac didn't even have the heart to refute it.

"Well…. If there's anything else you need, you just let me know, okay?" Isaac said automatically, his bookseller identity kicking in again.

"Nope, I think I got it. Thanks."

That was it. That was the end of the transaction. The mystery man would walk up to the cashwrap, pay for his books and be out of Isaac's life forever. In fact, the customer was already ignoring Isaac in favor of looking over his books.

An overhead page across the intercom snapped Isaac from his no-doubt stalker-inducing life choices. There was a line at the Customer Services desk and Isaac's skills were needed elsewhere.

Isaac didn't see the cute customer again for the rest of his shift. Old people came and went, parents with toddlers came and went. The only other highlight of Isaac's day was when Cora's older brother, Derek, stopped by to order some books for their deadbeat Uncle in prison. Isaac enjoyed watching Derek's facial features as he shoved the crumpled up list of requested books across Isaac's counter. It may have improved Isaac's day a little, but it certainly ruined Derek's.

Peter Hale, inmate number 924197-6 at the Beacon Hills Correctional Institution, had a very specific taste in books. Thanks to the media's need to label everything, Peter's taste had an actual name: Mommy Porn.

Some books were considered too erotic to read in prison, but only the popular novels such as the Fifty Shades Trilogy and the Crossfire Novels were banned. Any of the other hundreds of erotic fiction- gay, lesbian or straight- was fair game, and Peter somehow knew them all.

As Isaac prepared the order, Derek shifted uncomfortably in his leather jacket before finally leaning over the counter. "You don't have to smile so stupidly while you order these, you know."

Isaac barely glanced up from the computer. "I'm not smiling."

"You are," Derek grunted. "It looks creepy on you."

"You've seen me smile before, Derek."

"Not when it makes you look like an idiot. What happened?"

It wasn't like Derek to gossip. Isaac actually had to pause in the middle of typing out the title of one of the books in order to really catch his eye. Isaac knew the Hales for a long time seeing as Derek had been friends with Camden, Isaac's older brother. With the two of them hanging out all the time, it seemed only logical that Cora and Isaac would become friends as well. In fact, it was Cora who'd helped Isaac land the awesome bookselling job.

So, honestly, Isaac had to attribute some of his success to the Hales, but most of it was his own doing, especially since Derek was the worst surrogate brother in the world.

"Nothing happened." Isaac answered eventually.

Derek frowned momentarily and then broke out into the sort of grin that would have looked predatory if he didn't have little rabbit teeth. "You're not ordering my uncle the wrong books again, are you? Because I will find out and I will know it wasn't just a delivery error."

Isaac laughed. Like he would risk that again. It was funny the one and only time it ever happened.

"I didn't know you needed to fuel the gossip fire at the Junkyard."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "I don't. You're just the second person I've run into today with a stupid goofy smile on their face."

"You ever stop to think it's a beautiful day, today?"

Derek glowered, completely ignoring Isaac's comment. "The first guy literally ran into me on my way in and kept smiling all throughout his apology."

"Maybe because your intimidation face is kind of hilarious." Derek then made the exact face in question and Isaac burst into a grin again. "See? I'm not the only one who is immune." Although, in reality, it had taken years for Isaac to even get to the laughing stage of Derek's glare. At one point, it had been terrifying, but Isaac had grown up and finally noticed the front.

"He needed help anyway," Derek said with a failed sigh and motioned for Isaac to finish with Peter's order. "He had a bunch of Self-Help books. Those things don't work."

A pain in Isaac's chest warned him that his heart may have stopped beating, if only for a split second. "You catch it name?"

"No?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "I don't go asking the names of people who run into me. Finish the damn order."

Isaac was pretty much finished with the order anyway and quickly hit print. With Derek and Peter's information in the system, already, he didn't have to worry much about typing up all the addresses, which was useful. As he impatiently waited for the printer to warm up, he drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. "Was he short? Tan? Head like a mop?"

"I don't know," Derek said tersely.

"This was just now, right? When you came in?" Before Derek could nod, Isaac continued, "So he could still be in the parking lot?"

"Realistically, no," Derek deadpanned. "Unless he walked really slow and bumped into everyone. Why do you care?"

Ah, the typical Hale response. Isaac was used to it by now. "He's the reason I'm smiling like this," Isaac said smugly, pointing to his now hurting cheeks. He really hadn't known he'd been smiling off and on all that time. His face probably hated him for it.

Derek acknowledged that bit of information with a grimace. The printer finished spitting out Peter's order form and Derek didn't even wait for Isaac to hand it to him before he reached across the counter and took it from the printer tray.

"I don't have time for this," he barked in that I'm-sorry-I-even-asked way.

Isaac didn't stop smiling even as Derek walked away. "Did he ask about me?" Isaac called after him. Derek raised a hand, probably to flip Isaac off, but then he remembered where he was and just raised his fist instead as he walked away.

It was hard to consciously keep a straight face after that. Isaac would have gotten away with it, before, but now he had the knowledge that the mystery cute guy, who was also possibly clumsy, was in a giddy mood as well. Had Isaac done that? He couldn't be sure. Part of him wished for it, but the rational part of him reminded him that enough time had passed for the stranger to have gotten a phonecall with good news or maybe he was excited about changing his life, Isaac had no idea.

"Hey," the sharp managerial voice of Kali barked from behind him. "This isn't a toothpaste commercial, Lahey. Do me a favor and take these customer holds up to the front."

Isaac's smile faded quickly at her tone as he grabbed the stack of books from her hands. He made a conscious effort not to look at her strangely manicured nails—they'd always creeped him out. Why she couldn't shelve her own customer holds was beyond him, but he hadn't been hired to ask questions.

Just behind the cashwrap, A&O Booksellers set aside a set of shelves specifically to hold customer orders. Sometimes, if A&O didn't carry a certain book, they could order it in and later call the customer when it arrived, or, alternatively, if a customer was unable to purchase a book, they could hold it for three days. It was a simple system and easily maintainable considering the last names of every customer was printed in large, bold letters on a sheet of paper and rubber-banded around the book.

Isaac hadn't meant to look. He'd just happened to see the familiar cover of one of Malcolm Gladwell's books—one of the very books he'd just recommended to his fantasy customer.

Almost reflexively, Isaac crabbed the stack of books. There were three of them—all books he'd suggested. What were the odds that another customer had them on hold? Not to mention it was about half of what Isaac had pulled out, anyway. He stole a glance at the name on the spine.

McCall, Scott. Complete with phone number and hold date.

Oh god, if this was him… he even had a name like a Scottish shirtless beauty in one of those romance novels. Isaac never would have pinned him as a McCall, so the very idea filled him with doubt.

Isaac's heart leapt to this throat and he twisted toward the pretty young girl that worked the cashwrap a few days a week.

"Brayden," Isaac called, holding out the stack of books. "Did you put these books on hold?"

"Uh, yeah, not that long ago," Brayden answered casually as she turned away from her terminal. "The dude was a real cutie, but he didn't have enough money for all the books, so we're holding those. He probably won't be back. Why?"

Isaac wanted to hold the books to his chest but stopped himself based on manly principles and also because Brayden was watching. "Just wondering," he said eventually.

Brayden eyed him and then cracked a grin. "You thought he was cute, too. Oh my God, Isaac, are you serious? Don't be a stalker and take the phone number from that hold slip or I swear I will disown you as a friend and co-worker."

"I won't!" Isaac defended immediately. He placed the books back on the hold shelf, anyway, and said the name over and over in his head. Scott McCall, Scott McCall, Scott McCall. There was no way he could forget a name like that… not that knowing his name was going to make anything easier. Brayden was right, he'd probably never see Scott again.

But it was a nice thought, and, really, he had to give it to this Scott McCall. He'd certainly brightened Isaac's day—possibly his entire week, and all he had to do was exist.