Glancing out the window, it looked like it was a beautiful day. Thankfully, it had stopped raining. I had been considering building an ark. April showers indeed. I was looking forward to the summer kicking into high gear. Not only would it help me get some savings back into my account after my jerkwad ex-boyfriend drained it to finance his band’s tour, but maybe I could also get enough scraped together for a condo or an apartment. At the very least, I wanted to be able to afford to hire a salesclerk so I could go for a bike ride and enjoy the nice weather.
I hadn’t had a day off in two years. I couldn’t even have lunch yet, because two tourists were wandering around my bookstore. They seemed to be boaters looking for a paperback to read on the beach or out on Long Island Sound. I could hear them giggling in salicious delight at a few of the erotic romance novels I had in the back. I carried local, self-published authors, so chances were these were new series for them.
As I eavesdropped on their whispered conversation as they read the juicy bits to each other, a man wearing black socks with sandals stormed into the shop. The tinkling bells over the door to my store filled the air with music, which took some of the menace out of his entrance. He slammed a package onto the counter. “I demand to speak to the manager.”
“You’re speaking to her.” I grinned as he took in my tongue ring and purple hair.
“You?”
Rolling my eyes at the camera above his head recording this transaction, I asked, “How may I help you?” Unfortunately, I didn’t have any uptight-asshole remedies.
“I want a refund.”
“May I see your receipt?”
My politeness seemed to throw him and he searched the bag. “I don’t have it.”
I stifled a sigh. “When did you buy it?”
“I wouldn’t shop here.”
Yeah, he wasn’t my demographic. I couldn’t see him buying a Reiki soundtrack or a fertility statue. He slid the bag toward me and I pulled out a well-loved copy of The Woman’s Journey. Some pages had been highlighted, and others were dog-eared. I looked in the front and it had been signed by the author, Joan Miller. The dedication read, “To Delores: You are worthy of love, respect and happiness.” I had done a book signing event for Joan in January. She always drew a big crowd. Her fans were always grateful for the opportunity to meet her.
“Fill this out, please, and I’ll process your return.” I passed him a sheet I made up for just these occasions. He would have to give me his name, address, and phone number.
“Do I have to do this?”
“Without your receipt, I need this in order to give you a refund. Otherwise, I’ll have to give you store credit.”
He blanched and filled out the paperwork.
When he handed it back to me, I looked it up online to make sure it was a real address. Nodding, I opened up the register and handed him a ten-dollar bill.
“The price is fifteen,” he pointed out.
“Restocking fee,” I deadpanned.
He glared at me, but pocketed the money and strode out. I slid the book inside a padded mailing envelope along with a few bookmarks and a poster for our next lecture series: “Taking Charge of Your Own Orgasm.” I addressed the package to Delores and included a note that she should probably hide this better from—I looked at the return slip—Walter. Weighing the package, I printed out the postage and left it in the bin for the mailman to pick up later.
I rang up the tourists’ books and gave them walking directions to the Village Wharf restaurant. They had the best fish stew in the state. Served up with their homemade bread, I could eat it for lunch every day.
The bells tinkled as they left and I went in the back to nuke my tea. That asshat Rory hustled the tea seller off as well. She had gone to Loonsbury, which was a hippy-er town than Haven. But it was in the center of the state and I would miss the shoreline too much if I moved out there. I munched on a granola bar while I waited for my tea. All the talk of the Village Wharf had my stomach grumbling. Maybe I’d put up the Be Right Back sign and get some stew and a loaf of bread to go. Sighing, I took another granola bar instead. Until the summer crowd picked up, I really couldn’t afford to eat out.
The bells announced another customer and I walked out of the back still chewing and dusting crumbs off my boobs. I froze midstep when I recognized Rory Parker from his social media photos that I shamelessly stalked through. Instead of being in a suit and tie like he was on his business website, he was dressed in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. All he needed was a sweater tied around his neck and a tennis racket and he would look the same as he did in high school.
“Dawn Nolan?” he asked.
Really? It had been ten years give or take since we’d last seen each other. It shouldn’t have been a big mystery. Aside from the purple hair, I hadn’t changed that much. “Hello, Rory,” I said.
His smile should be illegal. He was the exact opposite of my type, yet here I was forcing myself not to smile back. We circled each other like fighters after the bell clanged.
“Nice store.” He nodded without taking his eyes off mine.
I refused to let him get me hot and bothered, but the challenge in his gaze was a turn-on. “Are you looking to get in touch with your feminine side?”
“Sure, what do you recommend?”
I hated being condescended to, but I was more than up for the challenge of embarrassing the hell out of him. I brushed by him and got a cheap thrill rubbing against his hard body. So he worked out. Big deal.
Trailing my fingers over the spines of the books, I found the one I wanted: How to Orgasm Like a Woman. I handed it to him and watched as he tried not to choke at the title.
“They say a man can achieve multiple orgasms, like a woman. But I’m not sure I buy that. Men don’t have the right”—I paused and looked him up and down—“equipment for it.”
Rory opened his mouth. Shut it. And repeated that a few times.
Score one for me.
I was behind the counter with my tea before he fully recovered. “You can’t possibly be making rent selling this crap.”
I bristled at the crap comment, but tried to soothe myself. It’s not like I hadn’t heard it before. “I’m sure you’ve checked my finances and my on-time rent payments. That’s fifteen ninety-five, but if you sign up for our newsletter, you get ten percent off your purchase today.”
Rubbing his hand down his perfect face, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, you seem to be a savvy businesswoman.”
“Don’t say it like it’s an oxymoron,” I said in my coldest voice.
Rory grimaced in frustration. I found it cute. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
I’d actually like to put my tongue in his mouth, and that surprised me. He smelled like the ocean, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be wild like the sea in a storm during sex. I licked my lips. I’d like to try him out. I tended to dominate the crap out of Ivy League boys like this and it was always fun. Once. He had been a stuffed shirt in all of his emails. I had reacted by being more outrageous than I normally was. I’d send him pictures of me giving him the finger in front of serious cleavage, or sticking my tongue out at him, making sure my tongue ring showed.
I had issues.
“I’m offering you three times your yearly income, as well as buying you out of your lease.” He slapped a check for $120,000 on the counter.
I blinked at it. I could almost buy my own house for that. Of course, nowhere near the ocean. Swallowing hard, I had to clench my fists to avoid taking the check. I could buy a new car and drive anywhere in the United States. Get far away from here and all the emotional baggage I still carried with me. I could find another store. Start all over again where no one knew me as Judge Nolan’s delinquent daughter. It was tempting.
“Take it,” Rory said in a voice as smooth as chocolate syrup.
Take it, the voices in my head encouraged.
I cleared my throat. “You can have the store in five years, once my lease is up.”
What he really meant was you don’t fit in. Unluckily for him, that wasn’t the first time I heard that.
“Sorry, I like my store and so do my clients. You should have done a preliminary poll instead of just assuming you could bulldoze anyone in your path.”
Rory smiled again, and again I had to stop myself from smiling back. I didn’t want to smile at him. He was a jerk, albeit a charming one. “Maybe you don’t quite understand.”
Oh here we go. Next up was either a veiled or not-so-veiled threat, or he’d attempt to mansplain why I wanted to give up my store to make it easy for him.
“This ought to be good.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Distracted, he looked down at my cleavage. So he liked those cheesecake photos I had sent him. Well, all right. Score one for the girls. I wore a deep V-neck because I hated things around my neck, and if I was showing more boobage than usual, I would take whatever advantage I could. I just wish I didn’t feel the burn of his gaze down to my toes. Pretty Boy was making my nipples hard, and for the life of me, I didn’t understand why. Was it the hint of five o’clock shadow on his jaw? Or maybe it was the barely banked lust in his hazel eyes. He was so wrong for me, and I think that’s why I was so into him. Or maybe fourteen-year-old me still had a crush on him. I was mad at him too, and my anger tended to leak out into sex. I licked my lips, thinking about throwing him down on the couch and riding him until he behaved like a good boy.
He cleared his throat, and for a moment I wondered if I said that last part aloud. “I’m offering to buy you out of the remaining five years on your lease.”
“Yup, got that from the emails.”
“That you refused to take seriously. Instead, you counteroffered with trying to buy me a conscience.”
“Because I wasn’t interested in selling out.”
“The hundred and twenty is free and clear. Good as cash.”
I swallowed. “Still not interested.” In the money. The more I said no, the angrier he got, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked like the type to enjoy some angry sex too.
“Why? Is it not enough? I’ll double it.” He crumpled the check in his fist. “A quarter of a million dollars, if you clear out by this weekend.”
That took me by surprise. My heart thudded in my chest. If I worked twenty more years, I’d never see that much money. I could get a house, pay off my credit cards, and open a new store. I started to tell him he had a deal—
Then Millie Carter came in and the jingling bells broke the spell.
Millie flinched at seeing such a large man looming over me. Cringing against the wall, her big brown eyes filled with tears. Millie had been abused by her father, her brothers, her boyfriends, and her husband. When her husband died in a storm off Montauk, she realized she didn’t have to be anyone’s punching bag anymore. She had been a loyal customer ever since. I really saw a difference in her confidence as she bloomed into her potential. And she did it because of this store. Still, she had triggers. And whatever energy she was sensing between Rory and me had sent her to that dark place.
Not on my watch.
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of Rory’s head and kissed him on the mouth. I needed to take back some control here. He froze. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, rapping him on the teeth with the stud in my tongue until he opened up. Slitting my eyes, I saw Millie slump in relief and take a shuddering breath. I stood up on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. Rory was frozen in shock, but I kind of liked that. Dragging my tongue over his, I smiled when Millie recovered and puttered to the back of the store. She darted a glance at us over her shoulder, to make sure I wasn’t in danger.
It’s okay, Millie. He wasn’t threatening me. I got this. I’m in control.
I was about to release Rory when he tangled his fingers in my hair, deepening the kiss. My eyes flew open in shock and then fluttered closed in bliss. Wow. Rory Parker could kiss once he had his wits back. Slanting his lips over mine, his hot mouth was frantic while our tongues dueled. Three months of flirting emails and sexual innuendos burst into real life as we made out over the counter in my bookstore.
My fingers bunched in his shirt as pleasure shot down to my toes. Pretty Boy tasted like mint and smelled even better close up. Too bad the counter was in the way; I was horny enough to grind on him right here and now. Ever since Jack took my money and went on the road with the band, it had put a dent in my sex life, and I was feeling my long abstinence now.
The bells jingled again and I sprang away from him, looking down. Suddenly I was too shy to meet his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to have turned the tables on me.
The couple who had just come in had their noses in their guidebook, so they hadn’t witnessed me frenching one of my customers.
“Well?” Rory said, his breathing audible.
I forced myself to look into his scorching hazel eyes. I felt like purring. “I’ll think about it.”
Tossing a twenty onto the counter, he scooped up the book. “Keep the change. I’ll be back later for your final answer.”
He had an incredible ass. I savored the taste of him in my mouth and found that I was looking forward to seeing the billionaire douche bag again.
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Cuffed by His Charm: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel Page 20