“Some would argue that a one-night stand is empowering.” Ellery cocked a brow. She smirked at the look on my face as she moved to the display, her back to me. “But if the attraction isn’t there, it isn’t there. I’ll let him down easy,” she amended, picking up a fresh banana muffin from behind the glass display.
“Thanks,” I said as she moved back to the till and held out the paper bag to me. Before I could grab it, she pulled her hand back.
“But I’m telling you, you have got to stop comparing every guy to that one.”
Outside of my parents, Ellery was the only person who knew the truth about my first love. I’d more or less spilled my guts to her by accident, thanks to all the tramadol in my system. Mentally shoving that memory away, I frowned.
“Ellery,” I tilted my head in warning. It wasn’t just about comparing them to Calum, and she knew it, but this wasn’t the time or the place to get into this discussion again.
“We’ll talk about it later, then.” My friend sighed dramatically, her lips pulling into a pout. “Greys and wine tonight?”
“Okay,” I relented, accepting the paper bag with my muffin from her.
I strolled through the store toward the front counter. Our co-op student stood behind it, checking out a costumer. I smiled, pausing in front of the counter to greet her.
“Good morning, Shelly.”
Shelly Hastings started volunteering for us during the camp last year. She was energetic and bubbly, and a major help—setting up and running the craft table with ease, ensuring the kids she assisted were having fun. She was a total natural and when she asked to complete her co-op placement at the store, we eagerly took her on.
Since then, she’d taken on more roles in the store, managing the till and handling cash. She helped restock shelves and set up display tables and was eager to assist any customer.
“Morning, Harper,” she grinned. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with the guidance counselor this afternoon to hand in my assignment. I’ll have to leave after lunch if that’s okay?”
“Of course, it is,” I answered easily. As far as teenagers go, Shelly was a good one. Responsible and dependable, and she had a lot of drive. She didn’t often request to leave early or come later, and when she did it always pertained to school or the rare appointment.
“Thank you. My dad will pick me up,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
Like most girls her age, Shelly’s penchant for romance was a borderline obsession. It was what originally drew her into our shop. However, in recent months…she had taken to mentioning her father an awful lot, especially around me. It was obvious what she meant by it; but I did my best not to engage her hopes.
With Shelly spending most of her time here, her father would either pick her up or drop her off. We’d formed an amicable association that didn’t extend outside the bubble of Books and Brews unless we happened to run into each other around town. But that was a rare occurrence—so much so that it had only happened once, at the grocery store a year ago. Cordial smiles and friendly pleasantries had been exchanged before we both carried on.
Shay Hastings was ruggedly handsome, with his square jaw, deep brown eyes, and choppy, textured blond hair, he was considered one of the better-looking men in town. He had turned my head once or twice before—but I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go there.
I didn’t know Shay well enough to be absolutely certain, but my instinct told me he wasn’t over his late wife, who had passed away six years ago. Shelly was pushing for something that wasn’t going to happen, but it wasn’t my place to tell her this, and she hadn’t openly broached the topic with me. Nor had Shay, for that matter, so my lips remained sealed—despite the hints and comments.
Instead, I played oblivious, moving on from her hint. “Is that it?” I asked, tilting my head toward the sleek album her hands were curled around.
“Yes,” she said, fingers nervously brushing the album’s binding before she pushed it to me. She worried her lip, watching as I looked through it.
Photographs of the bookstore, the café, and the programs we’d had over the last few months filled the album. Shelly’s neat penmanship captioned each of the photos, explaining her tasks and the environment in the shop.
“This is beautiful,” I told her, thoroughly impressed. “You did a great job.”
“Thanks,” she flushed, glancing down at it. “I hope Miss Turner agrees with you,” she added, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“I’m sure she will,” I assured her, picking up my muffin and coffee from where I’d set them down. “I’ll be in the office, catching up on some much-neglected paperwork.”
“Okay,” Shelly nodded, her ponytail bouncing behind her ear. ”I’ve got it covered out here.”
I smiled my thanks before heading toward the back of the store. I held the bag with the muffin in my teeth, typed in the code, and pushed it open when the light flashed green. Stepping inside, I let it fall shut behind me.
My heels clicked against the hardwood as I walked through the storage room. To the right was a door that led to the side of the building, where the shipment would come through—whenever the truck arrived.
At the far end of the building were the office and a two-piece staff washroom. With the café, we didn’t need a break room, but the office was large enough for a comfortable loveseat.
To the left of the office was the door to the stairs for the apartment upstairs—Ellery’s apartment—and straight ahead was the door to the office.
It was supposed to be a shared space for both of us, but it was mostly my domain. Ellery was my equal partner in this business, but she hated sitting behind the desk. She preferred to hold meetings in the café, or her kitchen upstairs while she baked.
On the other hand, I enjoyed the business side of things almost as much as I enjoyed running the shop. Interacting with customers was a fun perk, but there wouldn’t be customers without strategic marketing, which I excelled at. I also handled the payroll and the other, not so fun, background work of running a shop.
The cold leather of my office chair reached me through my layers, and I shivered. The insulation in my office wasn’t very good, and the window behind me that faced the water was in dire need of replacing.
Most of our repair budget had gone into the store itself and the apartment above it, so the office and the storage room beside it were always cold, even in the dead of summer.
Leaning forward, I turned on the space heater aimed at the desk before I reached into my bag and pulled out my MacBook air. Most of the time, I brought work home with me. It took a lot of effort to keep the public interested in our little store.
After responding to the few work emails, I opened up the Books, Brews, and Reviews blog and set to post a review of my latest read. Once the post was ready to go—spellcheck and edited—I published it.
The blog and the Instagram account for Books, Brews, and Reviews was one of the ways I kept the interest growing for our little bookshop. The Instagram account had over thirty-five thousand followers, and it grew more and more each day. I’d always enjoyed taking pretty photos, so I was able to transition seamlessly into the “bookstagram” niche, and this had brought a new wave of tourism. Book lovers visiting Nova Scotia would make a point of driving out to our shop.
I shared the photo I’d snapped yesterday to the Instagram account, along with a brief description encouraging people to check out the blog for the full review, cross-posting it to the Facebook page and our Twitter account.
Harper
I know he enjoys fantasy books, like that hobbit book.” The fifty-something gentleman worried as I rang his books through.
“I’m sure he’ll enjoy this series, too,” I assured him. “If he doesn’t, you’ve got twenty-days to return it—given it’s in the same condition it was when it left the store.”
“Excellent,” he smiled, opening his wallet and pulling out a credit card. I rang it through and printed the receipt, sliding it into the first book.
I placed the trilogy in a bag and handed it to him, sending him off with another smile. The bell rang and I looked up as Shay Hastings strolled in, pausing long enough to hold the door open for the elderly man.
Shelly had gone to grab her things from the back, so when Shay didn’t see her, he strolled over to the counter. “Hey, Harper.” He smiled warmly.
“Shay,” I replied, returning his smile. “I wondered if I could have a moment of your time?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up? Is my kid causing problems? Stealing from the till?” he said, his lips quirking as I laughed at the notion.
“No. Quite the opposite, really. I was going to offer her a part-time paid position here. Tourist season is coming up, and we could really use her help. Shelly’s excellent with the customers and has learned how to catalog precisely the way I like. I know she’s mentioned a no working rule in the past, but I figured it would be a great opportunity for us both.
“The no work rule is so that she can focus on school, she has the rest of her life to work.” Shay considered me for a moment, his large fingers rubbing the auburn scruff on his jaw. “When would this job start?”
“I’d like to get her started on the occasional weekend for now, to get her more comfortable before the tourist season begins. But during the summer, I’ll be able to offer her more shifts throughout the week.”
He nodded. “It sounds like a great opportunity for her. It complicates one thing though…”
“What’s that?” I asked, catching Shay scratching the back of his reddening neck. He dropped his arm and leaned forward a little, his lips tugging in a boyish grin.
“I was going to ask you out to dinner.”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, my lips parting with surprise, momentarily caught off guard. I chased after something to say. I thought over our past exchanges, trying to see if Shay had expressed an interest before. The warm smiles and the courteous way he spoke made me think he was just being friendly and kind.
“Would it be strange if I still asked?” He probed, brows pinching together. “Because I’d still like to take you to dinner.”
Shay was a good guy; he worked at the marina and was well known and liked in the area. He understood the demands of parenting, what with being one himself. But I’d gotten the vibe he wasn’t interested in moving on from his late wife, and that made me relax around him initially.
A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Shay had asked me because of Shelly. I could only imagine how much she must have badgered him with hints. He was waiting patiently, his eyes earnest and a little uncertain.
But what if he wasn’t asking because of Shelly? The prospect made me hesitate.
“Sure…I’ll have dinner with you.” I finally replied. I didn’t have the heart to slap him with an outright no.
“Great. How’s Friday sound?”
“Sounds good.”
He smiled. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Hey, Dad!” Shelly said, her eyes moving from between the two of us with open curiosity.
“Ready to go?” Shay asked, moving away from the counter. He sent me one last glance and smiled over his shoulder before they strolled out of the bookstore, the door clanging behind them.
“What was that all about?” Ellery asked, making me jump a foot in the air.
“Jesus, you startled me! I need to get you a freaking bell or something.”
“Sorry,” she apologized, flashing me a rueful grin. “Well?”
“Shay asked me out to dinner Friday night, and I said yes.” I frowned, the uncertainty setting in.
“Why are you frowning, this is great! He’s hot and so sweet.”
“Isn’t it kind of weird? I mean, I’m going to ask Shelly to work for us. She’s our co-op student.”
“You won’t be Shay’s boss, unless you want to be,” Ellery waggled her eyebrows at me mischievously, and I rolled my eyes, a soft laugh escaping. “You’re trying to talk yourself out of it before it even happens. Classic Harper.”
“That’s not true. I’m just being—”
“A wuss?” She arched a brow at me with disbelief. “Have the date. See how it goes. Decide afterward if you want to continue. That’s exactly what dating is.”
“Gee, thanks for the lesson.” I sighed, fighting a smile. She was right, of course. If things didn’t feel right, they didn’t feel right. Shay didn’t seem like the type to force something that wasn’t there—and I had felt a small spark of interest when he’d smiled at me. It was extremely mild compared to everything I’d felt for the unnamable, but it was something.
Calum
We were supposed to be studying, but I could only take so much of her sitting on my bed with her legs tucked beneath her, that long dark hair falling over her shoulder onto the pages of the book that held her attention.
Harper could easily disappear in a book, and she didn’t see me coming until I’d already pounced on her. Gently prying the book from her hands, I tossed it toward the end of the mattress and leaned forward, peppering the side of her neck with slow, savoury kisses.
“When will your parents be home?” her voice was nervous, but her hands were steady as they raked down my bare abdomen, settling against my jean’s waistband. My cock jumped zealously against my zipper, eager to get to her.
“Not until late tonight, probably after midnight,” I assured her, my lips dropping to pay homage to her slender neck. She shivered as her arms snaked around the back of my neck. Her lids fluttered, and she let out a sigh as my hands trailed along her body. Greedily, I touched her everywhere.
“I can’t wait to get our own place,” she sighed, arching into my caress.
“Me either,” I murmured against her skin, pausing to nip at it gently. I couldn’t wait to be out of this house—even if I’d have to endure another four to six years of post-secondary education just to escape it.
Studying music and teaching it, when all I wanted to do was play it.
I wasn’t unintelligent, although my grades prior to Harper’s intervention often suggested it. I just didn’t have the passion or focus for school that my brilliant girlfriend had. I learned by doing, and it’d taken everything I had to pull through high school with passable grades. I knew what I was good at, and I wanted to stop wasting time and just do that.
But my father was right—playing local gigs at bars and events wouldn’t pay enough to keep my old Jeep on the road, let alone pay the bills, or give Harper the life she dreamed of.
As if she sensed my internal conflict, Harper’s fingers tangled in my hair, and she pulled my face to hers, her eyes searching mine. “I love you, Calum.”
“I love you, too,” I told her, eyes locked and unwavering on hers. It was the one truth I couldn’t and wouldn’t deny. She calmed the storm inside me; and lifted the weight off my chest so I could breathe a little easier.
I pressed my lips to hers, kissing her reverently, my heart pounding not just with lust, but with a love that, at times, felt too big. A love I didn’t always feel deserving of.
Harper trusted me explicitly. Often, I had no idea what to do with all that trust in my hands. A darkness lurked in me, silent and heavy, and I worried it’d stain her. I did my best to keep my dark from her light, but sometimes it wasn’t easy, especially when she wasn’t within reach. Touching her eradicated the dark.
She let out a soft sigh of contentment, tension leaving her body, and melted against me. Her surrender chased away the brief flash of hesitation, and I backed her up against my mattress, sliding my hands around to the small of her back, holding her while I laid us down.
I glanced down at her, at the hurried rise and fall of her chest as she drew in quick, shallow breaths. I brought my lips to hers once more, kissing her softly before pulling away to look at her again. She lay beneath me, peering up with trusting, lust-filled eyes—mine for the taking.
Harper was too good, too pure—but she was different with me. More unbounded, freer. She craved me just as badly as
I craved her.
I made her come undone; with a look, a touch, a kiss. She said I had this power over her, and I was addicted to it, to making her melt beneath my palms. I did it every opportunity I could. But she didn’t seem to realize how powerless I was against her.
I undressed her as I kissed her, pulling my mouth away from hers only as long as it took to tug her shirt off and toss it over my shoulder. Clad in her bra and panties, her long chestnut brown hair a tangled mess on my pillow, she was visual poetry.
Settling between her thighs, I felt her heat against my cock through her panties and my boxers. I let out a tortured groan, a sudden burst of light blinding me, turning everything white…
Sunlight streamed through my opened window, mercilessly blinding me before I’d even opened my heavy lids, the haunting dream of a memory still stubbornly clinging to my conscious.
My cock was hard from how real the dream had felt, and the dark abscess in my heart throbbed in time to the beat of missing someone I had no right to miss.
I could still remember how it felt to slide into her that night, in this very bed. Two days before the night I shot it all to hell. The simple truth of it was that I’d been happier in every moment I’d spent with her, then I’d ever been since I boarded the plane.
Knowing I fucked up things beyond repair by leaving the way I had was my penitence.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stood and stretched, trying to work the kink out of my neck and back. Bending forward, I grabbed my duffle bag and rooted through it for a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
I hesitated when my eyes landed on the folded note beside my pillow. Pushing my hair back, I huffed out a sigh, tucking it into the small pocket in my duffle bag before I grabbed my clothes and toiletries and headed to the bathroom down the hall. I closed and locked the door, flicking on the light. Setting my things down on the wicker basket before I turned toward the shower.
Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1) Page 4