by Christi Snow
“I’ll be right there, Agnes.” He set off with a skip in his walk. Mac grinned to himself. This was his favorite part. He hoped the customer was a sci fi reader. True bibliophiles knew him and were always so excited to find him there...just like a regular person.
He rounded the last table and the registers came into sight.
The man in the Colorado Rockies hoodie stood at the end of the makeshift counters. From a distance he looked a little bit taller than Mac...probably six foot two or three. He had dark brown, curly hair that looked several months past when it probably should have been cut. It was the kind of hair a guy could grab a hold of and hang onto during a vigorous round of sex.
But what caught his attention most was the gorgeous man’s easy, happy smile. It lit up his entire face, and it was a beautiful face. Mac’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of those straight teeth shining out between full lips shrouded in dark scruff. It had been a couple of days since the guy had last shaved. That beard would scrape across Mac’s nipples, leaving a buzz across his skin in its wake.
The man leaned against a pile of boxes overflowing with books, his delectable bulge shown off to perfection in those Levi’s that had been worn so many times, they molded to his incredible thighs. He was all tall, lean, and ropey with muscle. Mac’s mouth watered.
Wow, had it been that long since he’d had sex? Rarely did he have this kind of immediate visceral reaction to a man.
The man in question unashamedly flirted with the ladies running the registers, and they were eating it up. It was too early in the day for any of them to have much to do yet, and they were easily charmed. Mac knew that from experience.
Mac approached with an easy smile. “Someone called for added muscle up here?” Mac winked at Agnes and turned to the man as he grabbed the handles on the loaded dolly. “I’m Mac. I’m here to help you with your book transport.”
The man’s eyes widened with frank appreciation as he gazed at Mac, and Mac preened internally. Aw, someone who recognized him.
“Hi, I’m Tommy.” His voice sounded deep, husky, and just a hint away from sensual. “I told them I could handle the boxes all on my own, but they insisted you needed something to do. I think I’m okay with that.” He winked at Mac.
Damn, this was good.
“Yeah, they know me too well. If I don’t stay busy, I’ll buy all the choice stock, which everyone knows I don’t need. I have too many books already.” He tilted the full dolly onto its wheels. “I’ll follow you out. Just lead the way.” That way he could watch that nice ass flex as they walked.
Tommy hefted two boxes off the counter and Mac rolled the dolly loaded up with another five boxes behind him as they went through the doors. They crossed the parking lot and headed toward an old forties, kelly green, delivery truck.
“Wow,” Mac said when Tommy stopped beside it. “I didn’t think anything this old still ran.”
Tommy grinned at him. “Unfortunately, the old girl would rather not. I spend as much time under her working out her kinks as I do driving her, but she’s perfect for my needs.”
You could work on my kinks. Mac cocked an eyebrow. “Her?” He groaned. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you? A car guy. What’s her name?”
Tommy blushed as he opened the double doors on the back of the vehicle. That blush made him even more attractive than he’d been before, if possible. Mac had to get this cutie’s number.
Tommy raised a flirtatious eyebrow at Mac. “I don’t know if you earned the right to her name if you’re just going to diss her. She deserves more respect than that.”
Mac laughed. “God forbid, I can’t insult your girl here. How about I make it up to her by taking her owner out for dinner? I think I need to know more about a guy who’s such a reader.”
They were loading the books into the back of the van, but Tommy visibly hesitated, and his shoulders stiffened. Had Mac misread his signals? He was sure the guy was gay from the way he’d been eyeing and flirting with him.
Tommy grabbed another box, but didn’t meet Mac’s gaze this time. “Um, thanks, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he mumbled with a hard edge to his tone that hadn’t been there before.
But Mac wasn’t ready to give in that easily. “What? Dinner is always a good idea. We can eat, drink, and talk books, my personal favorite subject.”
Tommy shook his head. “No, I don’t think that would work. Thanks, though. I appreciate all the help getting them loaded.”
“No problem.” Mac really didn’t understand the issue here. He’d been turned down for dates before, although it admittedly had been a while, but never had he experienced such a one-eighty in a conversation before. He decided to give it one more try. “With this many books, you should have plenty of reading to keep you warm for the coming winter. Unless, you have someone at home for that job.” Maybe that’s what the issue was...he had a boyfriend.
“No, no one at home and I don’t read.”
Relief swamped Mac. Okay, the guy wasn’t taken so he still had a chance here. But then the rest of what he said registered. “Wait, what?” Mac sputtered. “You don’t read? How is that even possible? Why would you buy all these books then?”
Tommy’s eyes flashed with hurt and then anger. “I repurpose them into art.”
“You destroy books?” Mac whispered as the horror of what this man said sunk in. He wanted to yank those van doors open and pull all those precious pages away from this man. How could he have been attracted to him?
“No, I don’t destroy them. I give them new life. I gotta go.” Tommy climbed into the old derelict van, while Mac’s brain spun with outrage.
***
Tommy Garrett opened the old paned French door that led into the front of his store and studio space to load the boxes of books inside. His stomach still roiled with embarrassment and anger from the scene at the book sale. He’d been so happy to find such a successful haul and to have a good-looking guy flirt with him afterward had been the icing on the cake.
Then the conversation had turned ugly. And now he felt dirty and stupid. A sick feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. He’d sworn years ago he would never give someone else the power to make him feel that way ever again. He strode back to his truck, frustration dogging his heels.
He pulled open the double back doors of Maude. Yes, he’d named his truck Maude, and he felt somewhat vindicated that he’d never shared that with the pompous ass that had helped him load the boxes. That jerk sure as hell didn’t deserve to know.
He examined the books as he placed them on the wall of bookshelves in his old warehouse studio. He may not read them, but when he looked at that brick wall of custom bookshelves that ran two stories high, they made him happy. Each of those books would be lovingly treasured and repurposed into something beautiful. No, it may not be their original purpose, but he liked to think he respected the books by taking the old worn out pieces and preserving their beauty in a different way.
While in the process of emptying the third box and removing dust jackets, he saw it. On the back flap of the dust jacket, the photo of the author mocked him. The face of the same man who had stared at him in such horror this morning. His name was Robert McIntyre.
Tommy flipped the book over and examined it more closely. This hardcover was a nice specimen. Under the dust jacket the hardback was embossed with some sort of futuristic symbol. The binding was stitch bound and the publisher used a really high quality paper. They only did these things with their best selling novelists. He looked at the cover again.
He’d heard of this series, but hadn’t listened to it yet. No, he may not read books, but he did devour audiobooks. He stood and carried the book over to his worktable. He didn’t know why he singled out the book. The author had turned out to be a judgmental prick. But before he’d shown his true nature, Tommy had been intrigued. The question though...Was his writing good enough to qualify him as judge and jury?
Robert McIntyre wrote sci fi, not a
genre that Tommy normally enjoyed, so this would be a true test to see if the author could convert him.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone in his jeans pocket. He fumbled for it and didn’t recognize the number, so he answered using his professional script. “You’ve reached Typecast. This is Tommy. How can I help you?”
“Thomas Garrett?”
“Speaking.”
“Hello, this is Lola Barnes. I’m calling on behalf of the Minton Galleries.”
“Um, hi.” His heart sped up at the mention of the premiere art gallery in Denver.
“As you may be aware, Stig Minton is the proprietor of the Minton galleries. Recently, he saw some of your work. I’m calling to see if we can set up an appointment to discuss a possible showing for our galleries for the upcoming Christmas season.”
Tommy sucked in a breath. Fuck a duck. Christmas was just over two months away. Tommy did a frantic calculation in his head of what he had ready to show and how quickly he could pull together a portfolio. This could be just what he needed to send him to the next level of his art. “Yes, I would love to meet with Mr. Minton. Tell me when, and I’ll make sure it happens.”
That probably made him sound needy and desperate, but when Stig Minton called to set up a meeting, any artist who knew anything didn’t play hard to get. This was a once in a lifetime chance, and he planned to do whatever he could to make it work.
About the Author:
As an avid reader her entire life, Christi Snow always dreamed of writing books that brought to others the kind of joy she felt when she read. But...she never did anything about it besides jot down a few ideas and sparse scenes.
When she turned 41, she decided it was time to go after her dream and started writing. Within four months, she'd written over 150,000 words and hasn't stopped since.
She's found her calling by writing about sexy, alpha heroes and smart, tough heroines falling in love and finding their passion. She's truly living the dream and loving every minute of it.
Her tagline is... Passion and adventure on the road to Happily Ever After. She's loving this adventure!
www.Christi-Snow.com