Romeo’s Deal (14 Days of Love and Lust Bikers & Mobsters)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Nell

Soft music plays through the bookstore that is attached to my parents’ coffee shop, Comfort Cup.

This is my Heaven on Earth. Not only working with my parents but being around books all day long as the scent of coffee wafts through the rooms.

I am not a coffee drinker— sacrilege I know, but I never got the taste for it. Herbal teas are for me; they are calming and soothing.

Smiling at customers enjoying their reading and chatter, along with drinking the liquid of Americans, I get to work adding some new romance books to the shelves. I love romance books, the spicier the better. I am not a huge fan of dark, but I will try it if the blurb sounds good.

Pink heart bunting swings from shelf to shelf. Red and white hearts hang from the ceiling, and it looks like Cupid threw a party in here. Valentine’s Day is coming up, and my parents always like to decorate for the holidays.

They are such a loved-up couple, even after all these years together. One day I will have what they do. I can only hope that I will be swept off my feet by the man of my dreams. Who the hell am I kidding? Any man who can sweep me onto my back can give me his dick; I am starving for a male’s touch.

“Morning, Nell.” Dorothy greets me as she sits at her usual table by the window, her laptop case in hand.

“Morning, it is a cold one today.”

“It is. But Portland is known for its wet, dreary winter months. I had to wear gloves this morning. Let’s hope that my fingers are not so frozen that I cannot write.”

“That is the January weather for you. It is toasty in here, so you should thaw out soon enough.” She removes her large woolen cardigan and sits.

“What can I get you?” I ask.

“I will have that maple latte, please.” I nod and walk over to the counter where my mom and dad are making up orders.

“Dorothy ready to finish that book?” Mom asks.

“I think she is close.” I set to making her coffee, loving the scent from the maple syrup.

Dorothy is a murder mystery author and loves to come into Comfort Cup a few times a week to change up her writing environment. She says that seeing people around her and observing how they interact helps her add depth to her characters.

Her books are amazing.

When I left to go to college, I loved every second of it. Hell, it brought Simone, my bestie, into my life. We are inseparable— she is my sister from another mister. Her parents are horrible, so she decided to adopt my folks as her own, not that they care; they love her as much as they love me.

It was when we finished college and Simone went through something traumatic that we decided that being home was what would be best for us, so we came back home.

We both live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another, and it is amazing.

We have such a good time, making memories and being there when we need each other.

It was only when we moved home that I felt something was missing in my life. Enter Keith Arthur.

He was my world; he swept me off my feet and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker like the hopeless romantic that I am. Fuck me, he fooled me and everyone around me except Simone.

She always tolerated him, but I knew that she didn’t like him. Well, she was right to not like him. After four years of marriage, I finally caught him cheating with his now girlfriend.

For years he would make it out like I was being insecure in our marriage, that I was seeing things that were not there. A part of me knew that I was seeing things correctly, but he convinced me and would become the happy, loving husband.

Fool me so many fucking times.

He butt-dialed me once, and I had the pleasure of hearing him grunting like a pig while he fucked the bitch he is with now, who sounded like a drowning cat.

I called Simone and we went over to his office, where I made a big scene to make sure that people came running and he was caught in the act by me, Simone, and five of his co-workers.

To say people were shocked is an understatement. My marriage ended that day, and I filed for divorce, and thank fuck he never left me waiting. He signed off on it and I was officially single again.

That was a year ago, and he has already moved his new girlfriend into my old house, which we bought together. I took what I brought into the house, even though he was pissed because I bought the TV, most of the kitchen appliances, and the large leather sofa that he loved.

Keith made it known that I was the problem in the marriage, not giving him what he needed, but thankfully most people defended me in our small town in Colorado.

I think over the time we were together, I knew deep down that something was not right, so when we did divorce, I did not grieve our marriage; I think the thing that hurt the most was the humiliation.

Thankfully, with my family and Simone, I am over that trash-bag and his drowning cat.

When I see them around town I ignore them, making sure that they know I am loving being single and being free from his lies.

They do make snide comments because it seems that they are both stuck in their high school bully era.

I turn and bump into my mother, spilling Dorothy’s coffee, and I sigh.

“Two left feet, baby. Two left feet.” My mom winks at me.

Oh, did I mention I am a complete and utter klutz? Or as we like to say, I am blessed with the misfortune of mishaps.

I will trip and fall over air.

Nothing can stop me from almost face-planting into the floor or a wall.

Believe me, I have done that before.

It is like the universe has decided that I am to take on all the misfortune and mishaps, to save the people.

“I know. Damn, you would have thought that I would have grown out of this by now. I mean, being twenty-eight is old enough to not fall over fresh air.”

Remaking the coffee, I wander back over to Dorothy and place her mug on the table. She is rapidly tapping away on her laptop, so I step away not to disturb her and I back up into a customer.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” I gasp, turning around to see it is a teenage boy.

He smirks at me, his hands on my hips, so I quickly step out of his hold.

“It is my pleasure, baby.” He winks.

Eww. What the hell?

“Yeah. No.” I wave my finger at him and walk away with a shudder.

When did teenage boys get so freaking brazen?

Simone always tells me that I am a knockout, but I find it hard to believe. She is the one who hooks up with men most weekends, the hussy, with her long legs that go on for days, her round boobs, and long ink-black hair that hangs down her back.

Whereas, I am on the curvy side, with some love handles. I enjoy food, so what? My brunette hair has a flash of red running through it. It is naturally curly and is a pain in the ass to wear down in the summer with it being so thick and a pain to tie it up, but I make do.

This is me and I am happy being me.