Chapter 10
10
FIONA
“You,” I breathed.
The last place, the absolute last, I ever expected to see Mr. Suit was in a romance bookstore.
I stood, staring, because my brain was occupied with how on earth he could be here, behind the counter no less, instead of doing anything else. Anything.
“What are the tropes in this book?” A woman who looked like she came from a morning yoga class approached him and asked. Him. Whatever his name was.
His gaze left mine–although it seemed unwillingly–to answer the woman. “What’s a trope?”
She replied, speaking very slowly as if to someone just learning the language. “Themes in the book. Like alpha male.” Her shrewd gaze raked over him in his trim white button down and jeans but snagged on his forearms below where his sleeves were rolled up. “BDSM and forced proximity.”
She couldn’t have made her sexual interests any blatantly clearer.
He took the book she held out. Stared at the cover. Flipped it over. Flipped it back.
“Tropes. Okay. A guy who works out but owns a flower shop and someone’s trying to kill him,” he said, handing it back.
That deep voice sounded as if it’d been churned through a cement mixer, it was that gravelly.
The woman reluctantly looked at the cover. “You’ve read it?” Her tone was very doubtful, because this guy? Reading romance? Impossible.
He shook his head. “No. But the man on the front lost his shirt–either it’s laundry day or there was a high wind–and it’s clear he’s fit. There are flowers all over the cover, so he’s got to work as a florist. Plus, there are bullets oddly tucked into the flowers so obviously he can shoot a gun.” He shrugged. “Not a bad cover. If you want a better answer, the owner will be back from vacation in two weeks.”
Hannah was gone for two weeks? On vacation? Now? It figured. Crap.
The woman blinked, then set it on the counter. “I like yours. I’ll take it.”
“Cash only until I figure out how to open this machine. Or you can come back later.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely come back later, but you just push this button right here, the one that says Sale,” she said, smiling. She reached across the counter and pointed. If she batted her fake eyelashes any harder, she’d levitate. “I run the yoga studio one block down and use the same system.”
I couldn’t blame this woman for trying with him. He was even more handsome and cranky than I remembered from the convenience store. Maybe he never got his coffee.
He pressed where directed and grunted. “I’m good for now,” he said into his cell and set it down.
Fiddling with the screen, he looked like he was a new recruit at McDonalds.
“You scan the back bar code with that thingie, then hit total, and–”
He followed all the woman’s steps, took her credit card, and finished the sale.
“Be sure to stop in at yoga. Class tonight’s at five. On the house.”
On the house? More like on her.
I glanced around. Other women were in the store, every single one of them watching HIM.
He didn’t seem to even notice. He sure as hell noticed me.
Coming around the counter after the yoga instructor left, he pointed his finger at me. “What the hell were you thinking yesterday?”
I blinked, confused at what I could have done. “What?”
He tossed his hands in obvious frustration. “ What? The robbery. ”
I shrugged. “He had a gun. People with guns break the law. I don’t like bad guys.”
“You don’t like bad guys?” He paused at that, then said, “No one likes bad guys. That’s why they’re called that. Otherwise, they’d be good guys. ”
I rolled my eyes, and his face had the same expression a mother of an annoying teenager would have. Aggrieved, annoyed, and pushed to the brink.
“Not everybody who carries a gun breaks the law, or is a bad guy,” he replied through gritted teeth. “There’s conceal carry–which you are very aware of.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Like I said, he was breaking the law. I had to stop it.”
His eyes widened and a vein throbbed at his temple. “You don’t confront a man with a gun!”
“You don’t confront a woman with one, either,” I reminded, since he’d done just that. I settled my hands on my hips.
“You weren’t going to shoot me.” He repeated exactly what I said to the robber the day before.
“Then? No. Now?” I asked. “You’re acting like an asshole, so it’s possible. Justifiable homicide.”
He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Yeah? Well, I’d have my gun out from behind my back and shoot you before you could shoot me.”
I looked down at his waist as if I could see around behind him and the gun he supposedly had tucked beneath his shirt.
I shook my head. “I know what your problem is. ”
He huffed. “You?”
“My gun’s bigger. Is that it?”
He rolled his shoulders back and grew about an inch. “Sweetheart, I’m big all over.”
I could have sworn the women in the back either moaned or whimpered at his words.
I wasn’t unaffected either. I was pretty sure I became spontaneously pregnant, my IUD be damned.
He was just as intense and cantankerous as in the convenience store but without the bad guy mixed in.
His gaze raked over me from head to toe. Today I was in ankle jeans, a white tank top with a long cardigan over it. It was chenille and cozy and the first thing I pulled out of my bag after my shower. Oh, and sneakers. No heels or conservative suits today. Or ever in this town. I hadn’t seen one person dressed up. His eyes didn’t make it all the way back up to meet mine but stalled on my mouth.
“If your ego was any bigger, you’d tip over,” I muttered, watching as his tongue flicked out to lick his lower lip.
He looked up, those blue eyes finally meeting mine, and grinned. Yeah, I was definitely affected. Was it hot in here? Did places up in the mountains even have air conditioning?
He had perfect straight white teeth, and a smile completely changed how stunning he was. If that was possible. He looked like he was a romance book cover model. If that wasn’t hot enough, he supposedly carried a gun.
The yoga instructor may have had a bondage kink, but I had one for a guy with a weapon and knew how to use it. Especially if the one in his pants as big as he said.
“You left the scene of a crime,” I told him, all of a sudden sounding very prim.
“So?” His brow arched in a way that questioned why I said what I did instead of the words themselves. “I didn’t commit it.”
I shrugged. “Still.” I couldn’t help it. He was a witness and had disappeared. It seemed… shady. I’d had to explain to the police who arrived about him but hadn’t been able to give them any information other than tall and dark. I left out handsome because I was well aware that adjective wasn’t used in reports.
His gaze raked over me once again. He took a step closer which meant I could smell him. Clean, spicy. Dark. “Are you a cop?”
“No.” I wasn’t a cop. I was an FBI agent, thank you very much. As if caught in his orbit, I moved closer to him, close enough that my boobs would brush his chest if I took a deep enough breath. I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes. “Are you avoiding the law?”
I wasn’t sure what I would do if he was.
“I’m not the one who held up the store, sweetheart. I’m the one who missed out on a fresh pot of coffee because you threw it on someone.”
I sighed. “Yeah, that was a travesty,” I admitted, eyeing his mouth again.
“It was.” His agreement knocked the wind from my anger .
And then his hand circled around to the back of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.