Chapter Seven
Lana
Holly stares at me as though she’s expecting the tea.
“Yeah, I’m a hot mess,” I say, cheeks burning red.
“Marley may have mentioned she ran into you last night.” She grins.
“Sounds like way more fun than a birthday party.” Bookmark jumps up onto the counter and purrs, scrubbing up against us for pets.
“Girl, you just hit the jackpot. Are you and the hot rich author running off together now? Please don’t leave the mountain. I need you.”
I roll my eyes playfully and grab the box of ornaments for the decorating contest then walk them to the back room where Marley has already set up a long folding table with decorative red cloth. “It wasn’t like that. It was a one-time thing. We didn’t even do anything.”
Holly’s brows shoot up playfully as though she doesn’t believe me. “That’s not what Marley said.”
Sometimes I really regret living in a small town. Then again, I did let a man finger me in the wide-open alley thirty feet from the street.
“We did something, but it wasn’t a big deal,” I mutter, organizing the glitter on the table.
“He needed inspiration for a story. I gave it to him. That’s all.
It’s over now. Trust me. I didn’t even hear from him last night.
Well,” I nod my head as I pour the green and red bulbs into the center bowl, “he made sure I got home okay, but that’s just formality. ”
Holly tilts her head to the side and crosses her arms in front of her chest as though she’s annoyed. “He likes you, trust me. I’ve dated plenty of dudes who don’t give a follow up call. Besides, he couldn’t stop staring at you yesterday. He likes you.”
“He needed a muse,” I say, grabbing the craft bin out from the nearby closet. “That’s all.” I glance back toward the table, trying to focus on what else needs to be set up for the bulb decorating contest. I think I’ve got everything. Oh, except for glue. I need glue.
“Where is Marley, anyway? I thought she’d be here this morning.”
Holly shrugs. “I think she’s nervous about the shop closing. After she told me about running into you last night, she mentioned how the signing hadn’t given the store the boost she was hoping for.”
“That sucks. Maybe I should see if Hunter would be willing to come back around for a second reading. Technically, he owes me now, right?”
My excitable friend laughs. “Totally owes you, but I’m not sure that would do the trick.
I think the store is in bigger trouble than Marley is letting on.
I’m following up with the estate sale at that huge place on the other side of the mountain this week, so hopefully something will come of that.
Some of these special edition books are worth thousands of dollars and people stupidly sell them for pennies.
It would mean a huge influx of revenue for the store, maybe even help pay some bills while we figure out the day-to-day answers. ”
I nod, trying to think of something we can do to drag in more shoppers, but my head isn’t in the right space for business. It’s still on last night and the way Hunter’s rough hands felt scraping against my skin. It’s still on the feral look in his eyes as he watched me flirt with that other man.
I’m a useless mess and I need to get my head back in the game. Marley and the bookstore need me now more than ever. That said, a twitch lands between my thighs as the bell rings over the front door. My eyes follow the sound instinctively, stopping when I see him.
The tall man with broad shoulders in a black T-shirt, tattoos streaking up both arms, jeans tight, sunglasses in place.
It takes half a second for the women in the bookstore to realize who’s just walked in and they flock toward him immediately, their words sounding like gibberish, their hands all over his solid chest. I never would have believed the liberties women take until I saw it with my own eyes.
He walks through them like they’re in his way as he strides toward me.
Oh God, he’s coming this way!
Big, wide, and perfect.
He lands a short stack of papers on the counter, though his gaze never leaves mine.
What’s happening?
A moment later, he’s pushing me into the storage closet, kicking the door closed with a thud.
The chatter of women outside the door is loud and obnoxious, but his lips are on mine before I can say much more and I don’t have the strength to stop him.
“I thought about you all night long,” he manages between kisses. “Every word I wrote.”
I swallow hard, my spine against the cool brick wall at the back of the small room. “Glad I could help.”
His mouth finds mine again, harder this time, like he’s trying to erase the hours we spent apart or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
I have no idea at this point. All I know for sure is that his hands are on my waist, then my hips, then tangled in my hair.
“I couldn’t stop,” he says. “Every scene, every line, I wrote you. Not a character. You.”
My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure the women outside can hear it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, not moving a muscle.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and wild. “Then tell me to stop.”
I don’t… because I don’t want him to. I want to know what it feels like to be written by him, not just on the page, but here, in this moment, with his breath on my skin and his body pressed against mine.
His hand slides down my thigh like he’s memorizing the shape of me, like he’s taking more of me for his story, and I’ve never felt more important in my life.
I never want it to stop. I want to lose myself in the now, and never return to reality ever again, but fate has other plans. My phone buzzes in my pocket, the screen bright and loud. It’s the tone I set for my mom, and I know she wouldn’t text me at work if it weren’t important.
I love her like crazy, and I want to care for her, but right now, Mom? Pulling away from his touch, I glance down at the screen, desperate for the noise to have been a fluke.
Mom: Sweetheart, it’s your Aunt Beth. I wanted to get through to you urgently so I’m using your mom’s phone. I’m taking her to the hospital. She’s having some difficulty walking this morning.
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I stare up at the giant before me. “Sorry. My mom is on her way to the hospital. I have to—”
“I’ll go with you.” He kisses my forehead gently again in the same way he did last night after all the filthy things he did. I want to love it, but it’s confusing.
“No, that’s okay. This happens all the time. I’m sure she’s fine. It’s just… it’s important for me to be there.”
His hand meets the side of my face like sandpaper. “If you want me to stand outside, I will, but I’m going with you.”
I nod, unsure of what to say or how to react.
Last night was heat and hunger. This is… different. This is him choosing the messy parts. The parts I usually hide.
His thumb brushes my cheek, and I don’t flinch. I lean in, and for a second, I let myself wonder what would happen if he really cared, if last night wasn’t a one-night thing, and if what’s happening is the start of happily-ever-after.
Lord knows I could use one.