Chapter Three
Flannery
"Dash talks about you all the time," Shep said, setting his empty container aside. "Not that you don't already know that."
My face went hot. "He's such a sweet kid. I adore him." I pushed my glasses up. "He mentioned his mom lives in Houston?"
Shep's expression shifted, something guarded flickering across his features before he nodded. "Yeah. Delilah and I are divorced. She, uh... guess family life wasn't for her. Ran off with a long-haul trucker about a year and a half ago."
"Oh." I didn't know what to say to that. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We're better off." He leaned back in his chair. "We alternate holidays per the parenting plan. Dash'll be with his mom—and her new boyfriend—over New Year's this year. But Christmas is mine, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."
The way he said it—fierce and protective—made me want to cry and laugh at the same time.
"He's at a sleepover tonight," Shep continued. "With Jayden and the Millers. So at least I don't have to worry about getting home in this weather. He's probably sound asleep by now. Or building a blanket fort in Jayden's room and keeping Jon and Heather on their toes."
I laughed, picturing it. "Definitely the fort. Those two together are unstoppable."
"You love kids."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "I do. Would love to have a big family of my own someday." The confession slipped out before I could stop it, and my cheeks burned. "I mean, you know. Eventually. If that happens."
"It'll happen." His voice was quiet, certain. "You're wonderful with them. Patient. Kind. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their mom."
The sincerity in his eyes made my throat tighten.
"So what made you want to work here?" he asked, mercifully changing the subject. "Two jobs can't be easy."
I took a breath. Here it was—the truth I usually kept hidden.
"I'm saving for library school. I need fifteen thousand dollars for my MLIS degree at Texas Tech.
The library job barely covers rent and groceries, so.
.." I gestured vaguely toward the shop beyond the break room.
"Angela pays eighteen dollars an hour. I'll have enough saved by next fall to finally enroll. "
"Library school." He said it like he was turning the words over, understanding them. "Makes sense. You light up when you talk about books."
"I can't think of anything better than promoting literacy, especially getting kids into reading.
Creating that love of stories." I played with the edge of my empty container.
"Books saved me when my parents died. Mee-Maw raised me, but books.
.. they were my escape. My comfort. I want to give that to other people. "
"That's a real dream," Shep said quietly. "Not just a job. Something that matters."
The way he looked at me—like he saw more than just the shy librarian in the ridiculous costume—made my heart race.
"We should probably finish the inventory," I said, though I didn't want to move. Didn't want to break whatever this was building between us.
"Yeah. Probably."
We stood, gathering the empty containers. His hand brushed mine as we both reached for the same one, and a current ran through me at the contact.
The sales floor felt different when we returned. Quieter, maybe, or just more intimate with the storm howling outside and nothing but us and the twinkling Christmas lights and Vixen watching from her perch on the counter.
"Where were we?" I asked, checking the inventory list.
"Regular stock. Shelf D."
I nodded and moved toward the display, but my heel caught on the edge of the rug. I stumbled, and the box I'd been holding slipped from my hands. Condoms scattered across the floor—a whole variety pack, naturally.
"Oh my God." I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather them. "I'm so sorry, I'm such a klutz—"
"Hey." Shep knelt beside me, his hand covering mine as we both reached for the same packet. "It's fine. Just condoms."
But when I looked up, his face was inches from mine. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way his gaze dropped to my mouth.
"Flannery," he said, and my name had never sounded like that before. Low and rough and full of want.
"Yeah?"
"Would it be all right if I kissed you?"
My heart was going to break through my ribs. "Yeah," I whispered.
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Good."
The first touch of his lips was gentle, questioning. Like he was giving me room to pull back, to change my mind. But I didn't want to pull back. I wanted this—wanted him—with an intensity that shocked me.
I kissed him back, clumsy and inexperienced but trying. He made a sound low in his throat and deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding into my hair. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and when I opened for him, the taste of him flooded my senses.
Nothing I'd read in all those romance novels had prepared me for this. The heat. The need. The way my whole body came alive under his touch.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"Hypothetically speaking," he said, his voice rough, "what if someone—say, a lonely rancher with an adorable four-year-old whose favorite things are Story Time and horses—were to ask you out? What would you say to that?"
My brain had short-circuited somewhere around the moment his tongue touched mine, but I managed to process the question. He was asking me out. Shep was asking me out.
"I'd say yes," I whispered. Then, because apparently my brain-to-mouth filter had completely dissolved: "But you should know—I'm a virgin."
The words hung in the air between us.
Shep went very still. His eyes searched mine, and I watched surprise flicker across his features, followed by something darker, hotter.
"A virgin," he repeated slowly.
"I know it's weird. I'm twenty-six, I work in an adult boutique, I've read every steamy romance novel in existence, but I've never actually.
.." I was rambling now, my cheeks burning.
"No one's ever made me feel safe enough.
Wanted enough. I didn't want my first time to be with someone who saw me as a buddy or a pity date or the nerdy librarian who'd probably cry during sex—"
"Darlin'." He stopped my spiral with a finger against my lips. "Breathe."
I breathed.
"First of all," he said, "ain't nothing weird about it.
Second, any man who treated you like a pity date was a damn fool.
" His thumb traced my bottom lip, and my breath caught.
"And if you're worried about crying, I should tell you that making you cry—the right kind, from pleasure—is exactly what I want to do. "
Oh.
Oh.
"I've thought about you for months," he continued, his voice dropping lower.
"Watched you with those kids, seen how kind you are, how smart.
How gorgeous. And finding out you work here, seeing you in this costume, knowing you're untouched?
" His eyes locked on mine. "That doesn't make me want you less, Flannery. Makes me want you more."
"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted. "I mean, I know the mechanics. I've read the books, and obviously I work here, but I've never actually—"
"I'll take care of you." His forehead rested against mine. "We'll go as slow as you need. You can stop me anytime. Just say the word."
"I don't want to stop."
"You sure?"
Was I sure? I looked at him—really looked.
At the patience in his eyes, the desire he wasn't hiding, the gentleness in his touch despite the clear evidence of his arousal.
This was Shep. The man who brought his son to the library every week, who'd helped me count sex toys without making me feel ashamed, who looked at me like I was worth something.
"I'm sure." The words came out steadier than I felt. "I'm just... nervous. About my body. I'm not exactly what guys expect—"
"Stop." His hands framed my face. "You're beautiful. Every inch of you. And I'm going to prove it."
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and the sensation spread through my whole body. When he pulled back, his breathing was uneven.
"Not here on the floor," he said. "You deserve better than that."
I looked around. The shop didn't exactly have romantic options. "The break room?"
"Card table's too small. The counter?"
My stomach flipped at the image. "Yes."
He stood, pulling me up with him, and I wobbled on the stupid heels. Without a word, he bent and removed them, one at a time. The gesture was oddly intimate, his hands warm on my ankles.
"Better?"
"Better."
He led me to the counter, lifted me onto it. The cool surface made me gasp through the thin fabric of the costume. Vixen, still perched at the far end, gave us a long look before jumping down and disappearing into the back room.
"Even the cat knows what's about to happen," I said, half-hysterical.
Shep laughed, stepping between my legs. "She's giving us privacy. Smart cat."
His hands settled on my thighs, warm and solid, and I shivered.
"Cold?"
"Nervous. Excited. Both."
"We're taking this slow." His hands slid higher, thumbs making small circles on my inner thighs. "I'm going to touch you, learn what you like. And you're going to tell me if something doesn't feel right, yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed me again, and this time I relaxed into it, letting myself feel instead of overthink. His hands moved over me—up my sides, along my ribs, cupping my breasts through the crushed velvet bodice. When his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I gasped into his mouth.
"Like that?"
"Yes."
He did it again, and pleasure shot straight between my legs. I'd touched myself before—of course I had—but this was different. This was him touching me, making me feel things I'd only read about.
"This little number you're wearing," he murmured against my neck, "has been driving me crazy all night. But I think it's time it came off."
"There's a zipper," I managed. "In the back."