Chapter 22 #2
Sugar And Vice is completely different from the other shops.
Once you step inside, you’re transported from the beach town boardwalk to a cozy bookshop.
Painted in warm earth tones and wood furnishings, it almost feels as if I’m transported to a rustic New England village, with cobblestone streets, autumn leaves, and crisp, cold weather.
The smell of the bakery next door floats through the walls, offering an aroma of cinnamon and vanilla, and the low lighting is easy on the eyes. Soft instrumental music floats quietly through the space, creating a comforting ambiance.
Shelves line the store, categorized by sub-genres like “Sports” and “Cowboys” and “Touch Her And Die.”
What the hell?
I shake my head, pulling my gaze back to the girl behind the counter. She smiles at me, closing the book in front of her. She must be damn-near a foot shorter than me, and is forced to crane her neck to look in my direction, shoulder-length hair swaying with the movement.
“Um . . . hi.” I clear my throat awkwardly, reaching into my back pocket for the folded piece of paper. “I’m looking for these books.”
I hand it to her, and as she unfolds it, reading through the list, an eyebrow shoots up above her round, metal-framed glasses.
When she raises her brown eyes to me, the freckles smattered across her nose dance as she scrunches it in amusement.
“Okay . . .” She chuckles under her breath.
“These three are in the dark romance section.” She points to the first few titles on the list before extending her arm toward the labeled corner of the store.
“The others will be in small-town, and that last one at the bottom is shelved under fantasy. They’re alphabetized by author. ”
I force a grin, feeling flustered and out of place. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she chimes. “Let me know if you can’t find any of them and I can come assist.”
As I’m thumbing through the dark romance section, searching for the name “Violet Rose” a door opens and closes in the distance, before a low yet feminine voice says, “Hi, Zoe. How are things today?”
“Good.” The girl from the front desk—Zoe—yawns. “It’s slow.”
“Yeah.” The other woman laughs. “It’s always slow.”
I finished locating the stack of books Allie recommended—Willow’s favorites.
I hold seven in total as I walk back to the register, setting them down on the counter.
The other voice belonged to Elena—the store owner and Leo’s sister—who sits behind Zoe on a counter, swinging her legs as she scrolls through her phone.
Her dark eyes lift to me, and a cherry-red smile spreads across her lips. “Hey, Weston.”
“Hey.” I awkwardly shuffle the books into one arm, raising a hand to wave.
Her gaze darts to my collection as Zoe takes them from me and scans the barcode on each book.
Elena studies the titles, tilting her head before hopping off the counter to get a closer look.
She picks up one of the dark-colored covers, inspecting the novel.
“Are you buying all of Willow’s favorite books? ”
“How do you know these are Willow’s favorites?”
She smirks. “Because I introduced her to all of them—and I wrote three myself.”
My jaw drops. “You did?”
“Of course.” Elena motions around the bookstore. “Does it look like this place is paying my bills?”
I swivel my head, realizing I’m the only person in here.
“Are you buying these for her or for yourself?”
“Myself,” I admit, biting my lip. “Willow said every man should read romance, so I figured I’d start with her favorites.”
Zoe pauses, giving me a once-over before her eyes dart to Elena. She purses her lips, nodding, as if she approves. Elena returns the expression.
“Forgive me if this question is crossing a line, but how comfortable are you with primal play?” Elena asks, leaning onto the counter and propping her chin in her hand.
“What is primal play?”
“Yeah.” She sighs, nodding. “That’s what I assumed.” She slides three of the books in my direction and gathers up the other four herself. “I’d start with those.”
“I . . .” I point to the books in her hands. “What if I decide I want to read those too?”
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll be back.” She grins. “But you should ease into it.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, shrugging. “You’re the expert, I guess.”
“You’re off to a good start, Weston.” Elena winks, bagging up the three books I ended up buying. “Good luck.”
I thank them both, exiting the store and making my way a few doors down to Heathen’s. I avoid passing by the front doors of Honeysuckle, since I know Willow is still working and I don’t want her to see the bag in my hand just yet.
I slip through the back door of the surf shop and dart up the stairs to the office above it that doubles as a break room.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hold the paper bag up next to my face, showing the Sugar And Vice logo stamped onto the front, smiling at the camera as I snap a photo and send it to Willow.
My journey has begun.
She responds almost immediately, which tells me the boardwalk must be slow for everyone today.
Willow:
Oh? What did you get? Give me a haul.
I take each book out of the bag, sending her photos.
Willow:
Very good choices.
They came recommended. What am I supposed to be looking for in here, exactly?
Willow:
Inspiration. New outlooks on life. Grand gestures. Swoon-worthy banter. Tear-inducing love confessions. Lessons in pillow talk.
My stomach flips at that last message.
Really?
Willow:
Oh, yeah. Some women like to be praised. Told they’re a good girl. Others want to be choked and spanked and called a whore. There is a whole world of possibilities between those pages.
Honestly, I could give a fuck what anyone else is into, Willow. I want to know what you like.
Willow:
Why don’t I come over tomorrow and tag my favorite chapters? I’m having lunch with a friend, but I’ll be there when you’re done with your shift?
Sounds like a date, Trouble.