Chapter 14
Julia
He can’t mean what I think he means. But he does. One look at his heated expression confirms it. He’s totally serious.
All this time I’ve been trying to keep my surging hormones in check, keep things appropriate, and he’s been thinking about being with me like that. Skin to skin. Putting his…knot? Is that what the brochure called it? Inside me. Filling me up with his pups.
My whole body gives an inadvertent shiver. It’s been so long since anybody thought of me that way. I’m feeling the ache of longing in places I’d forgotten about: My throat. My chest. Between my legs.
“I’m married,” I whisper. Flimsy words when he’s looking at me like that and I’m close enough to feel his body heat.
“You are,” Ian rumbles, bracing his forearms against the alcove wall on either side of my head. He leans over me so his forehead presses against mine, the length of his snout brushing the bridge of my nose. “But he agreed.”
My lips tingle at his nearness. This has to be the mate bond making me feel like this. So reckless. I squirm against the wall, my head warring with my body’s instinct. “Not to that.”
“He said he doesn’t want to know about methods and details. This is just the method.” He rubs his snout against one side of my face and then the other, marking me in the middle of Dog-Eared Pages.
“If he knew, he never would have agreed, though.” My voice is so breathy, it’s embarrassing. “I’m can’t break my marriage vows.”
Ian straightens, pulling away, and part of me wants to grab his shirt and pull him back. “Call him, then. Ask.”
“Right now? He doesn’t like it when I bother him during—” I start to say, and Ian’s eyes flash gold.
“What does he like you to do?” His voice is soft, but his expression is hard. He really wants an answer.
I wrack my brain, but I don’t have one. I spend so much time tiptoeing around Richard’s rules that I’m not sure what he likes about me anymore.
He doesn’t like my cooking, and he only has complaints about my housekeeping, no matter how hard I work on it.
He thinks my interests are silly and my job is beneath me.
He thinks my body is too big in some places and too small in others.
I’d say that he likes that I’m a good mom, but the girls don’t even live with us anymore. I can’t cling to that role forever.
“Call him,” Ian repeats.
Fingers trembling, I extract my phone from my apron pocket and thumb-type a quick message to Richard asking if he has a minute to talk. I already know he doesn’t.
Like it’s a homing beacon, Gashleigh pops out from behind a display of travel books, her ponytail so tight that it makes my eyes water to look at her. “No phones on the floor!” she crows triumphantly.
My stomach sinks. I know I’m supposed to leave it in the back, but I’m always afraid I’ll miss a message from the girls. What if they have an emergency? What if they need me?
Ian growls under his breath and steps out of the alcove so he’s blocking my body with his. “Leave her be. She’s on a break.”
“She took her break at two.” She leans around him to give me a sharp, beady look, but I’ve already stuffed my phone back in my pocket. “I’ll have to write you up for this, Julia. You know you can’t have your phone out.”
Ian sidesteps to block her again. “I asked her to text me a list of book recommendations,” he says quickly. “You seem knowledgeable. Maybe you can help me find them?”
“Of course, sir. I’d be happy to.” Got her.
Customer service is her strength and therefore her weakness.
Plus, she’s happy to steal the small commission we get from every sale.
I’m happy to let her have it, even if it’s at Ian’s expense.
His niece and nephews are going to have an amazing board book library.
My phone vibrates against my belly, shocking me. Richard’s actually calling. I must have caught him between work and his evening engagements. I hurry to the back room to take his call.
“Hi, it’s me,” I answer.
“Obviously,” he says dryly. “I assume this is important?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t bother you otherwise. It’s about…um…the contract.”
“The one you already signed?” he asks, voice clipped. In the background of the call, I can hear fabric rustling, like he’s getting dressed. A zipper zips. “If you’re calling to complain already, I don’t want to hear it.”
I glance around the back room to ensure nobody else can hear. Keeping my voice low, I try to explain. “Something unexpected came up with regard to the surrogacy. I just found out that there won’t be any medical oversight of the insemination—”
“Julia!” he snaps, startling me into silence. “The contract explicitly prohibits talk like this. Are you really going to have this conversation? Think hard before you go any further.”
“Richaaaard,” a teasing voice says. A female one. “Get off the phone. We’re going to be late.”
“Settle down,” he murmurs. His voice is muffled, but his tone is obviously intimate. There’s even a smile in it.
Hot shame pours down my back. I know he has women when he’s away, but he doesn’t usually rub my face in it. Then again, I don’t usually call him. I don’t usually ask for his time.
“I just thought you’d want to know,” I mutter.
His tone shifts, growing formal and frigid. “Well, I don’t. I want zero information about this little charity project of yours. Do what you like, just keep it off my doorstep.”
The woman giggles quietly. It doesn’t really matter whether she’s laughing at me or something else. It’s like a dagger to my heart that someone else is part of this moment. He ends the call without saying goodbye.
I knew he didn’t care about me a lot. I knew it. But I thought he cared about me a little.
Ugh. I can’t cry right now. I’m supposed to be on the floor. If I have a breakdown in the back room, I’m definitely getting fired.
So I push down my feelings and go back out. My phone is a lead weight in my apron as I mount the ladder again, numbly updating the Halloween display. It has to look good. I need to do one thing right today. One thing that isn’t a disappointment.
“Are you okay?” Ian’s voice jolts me out of my self-pity.
“Fine,” I chirp, desperately trying to sound normal. Like he’s just another bookstore customer. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yep.” I glance down at him. He’s carrying a periwinkle paper bag, Dog-Eared Pages’ signature color, that’s absolutely stuffed with books. He hefts it with a wry smile. “Everything you recommended.”
“Lucky kids to have an uncle like you. They’re going to be spoiled for bedtime stories.” I concentrate on hanging the last bat from the ceiling.
“I got another set of the woodcut series, too. For our pups.”
For our pups. I have to grab onto the ladder to steady myself, and in doing so, I drop the damn bat.
“Tell me it’s still happening, Julia,” he murmurs, stooping to pick it up. He hands it to me, and when our fingers brush, it feels like every hair on my body stands on end. “He’s not going to stop us, is he?”
I know who he means. My husband. The person who’s supposed to love and cherish me. The person who just told me he doesn’t care what I do as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him. No, Richard’s not going to stop anything.
Wordlessly, I shake my head. I hear Ian’s small, sharp intake of breath.
“Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up at Heidi and Nicole’s at six.” And then he’s gone.
What did I just sign up for?
Wobbly and lightheaded, I finish the display and put away the ladder, then focus on unboxing new stock in the back room and packing up the returns so I don’t have to interact with the public for the rest of my shift, because all I can think about is Saturday night.
I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I’m positive it’s going to change my life forever.