Chapter Six
Sarah
"Can I see you again tonight?" Jasper asks, cupping my cheek beside my car. By some miracle, it's still in the parking lot at Coltram's. I mostly expected that it was probably in a tow lot, but fortune is on my side this morning.
"You want to see me again?"
"Hell yes," he growls, his eyes narrowing on my face. "I want you in my bed again."
My heart stutters with excitement. Waking up with him between my legs may be my new favorite thing. It was basically like winning the lottery, only the lottery was orgasms, so it was better than that. You can't get off on money.
I mean, you probably can, but I doubt it's very hygienic. I know where his hands have been. I do not know where those dollar bills were.
"I'm working late tonight," I murmur regretfully.
"What time do you finish?"
"Depends on what time we finish with Dirty Book Club."
"Dirty Book Club?" He quirks a brow at me.
"Yeah. Um, that's not the actual name. That's just what we call it because Jazz usually picks the books." I smile despite myself. "She picks all the dirty ones. I think she's trying to scandalize all the middle-aged housewives in town."
"Ah," he says, a bemused grin flickering at his lips. "How's that going?"
"They keep coming back."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "What time is Dirty Book Club over?"
"Eight-ish? I'm usually home by nine."
He whistles, his eyes wide. "That's one hell of a shift, baby girl."
"Oh!" I grin at him. "I won't work the whole thing. I usually open in the morning, then cut out for a few hours to do whatever I want. Then I come back to finish out the day on event days." It's probably not the greatest system, but I get afternoons off on those days, so I don't mind it.
"Come over after you're off. I'll have dinner waiting," he says, making my heart race.
"Okay," I agree.
"Can you have lunch with me?"
"I…" I hesitate, not sure that's the best idea. If Olive is at the store, I'll have to explain why Jasper is there, which means I'll have to tell her that I slept with her brother last night—and this morning. I'm not ready to tell her that he rescued me from my date and took me home with him!
If I have to choose between her and him, it's going to break my heart. Maybe I'm a coward. I mean, I'm probably a coward. But I want to pretend I'm not stuck in an impossible situation for at least a little bit longer. Is that too much to ask?
Jasper must read the dilemma on my face, because he brushes his thumb across my cheek, making a soothing noise. "Hey. It's okay," he murmurs. "We don't have to invite anyone else into this if that's not what you want, baby girl. If you'd rather skip lunch for now, we can do that."
"I want to see you. It's just…Olive," I say helplessly. "She's going to have questions, and I…I…"
"Hey. You don't owe me an explanation." He tips my head back, pressing a hard kiss to my lips. "I've been related to her for her entire life. Trust me, I know what a pain in the ass she is, baby girl."
My shoulders slump.
"Tell you what," he says. "I'll be here at noon for lunch. If you want to come and eat with me, you come. If you'd rather not, I won't be mad about it, okay?"
"I'll be here," I say, making a split-second decision.
The way he grins like he's proud of me tells me it was the right one.
I sneak into work like I'm trying to hide from the cops. Only, the cops are my best friend, my favorite coworker, and my boss. And their interrogation tactics probably violate all kinds of peace treaties.
What the hell am I going to tell Olive? I've never lied to her. Well, not directly. I've kept a lot of things to myself, like my feelings for Jasper. But she's never outright asked if I'm in love with him, either. It's a flimsy distinction, but it's the one that helps me sleep better at night.
She's the only family I have. Well, I have a mom out there…somewhere. But she never wanted me. I doubt she ever even thinks about me.
"Sarah!"
I jump as soon as Lilah says my name, startling like I just stole something. "Y-Yes?"
"Tell Jazz that it's too big."
It wasn't too big. It was perfect. I still feel him between my thighs…
"Um…what?" I squeak. Surely, she can't tell I had sex, right? I mean, I don't think I look any different. And I'm pretty sure I'm not walking funny or anything.
"Tell Jazz that it's too big," she says again, motioning toward the vibrator display. "We can't have an entire wall of plastic dicks in a bookstore."
"Please," Jazz snorts, her head popping out from behind the espresso machine at the little café on the far side of the store. "Every bookstore should have a massive wall of dicks. It's called self-care, Lilah. We need options."
"Options?" Lilah splutters, marching up to the display to pluck one down. It's probably eleven inches, sparkling pink. The way she lofts it over her head like it's a damn sword makes me laugh. "This isn't even doable, Jazz. It's an annihilator! No one can handle this thing."
Jazz smirks at her, bringing her mug to her lips. "Lincoln needs to step up his game if you believe that isn't manageable."
Lilah looks to me for help, but I hold up my hands, taking a hasty step back. "I'm not getting involved in this. No way."
"Why not? You love toys." Jazz narrows her eyes on me and then gasps. "Oh my gosh! You had a date last night."
Lilah lowers the cock, and I swear to God, my soul leaves my body as they both turn to look at me like they're ready to accuse me of witchcraft in Salem.
"Um…I should really just go…stock things," I mutter, inching toward the back.
"Stop right there!"
"Jesus Christ, Lilah. It's a dildo, not a weapon," Jazz says, rolling her eyes when Lilah points the thing at me. Maybe it is an annihilator. It looks a lot more intimidating when you're staring at it in the sparkly eye.
I have got to get my life together. There's no way I can spend the next sixty years in a bookstore, surrounded by sparkly pink cocks and crazy people…right?
Is it wrong that I want to do exactly that?
"Spill," Lilah demands, shoving the dildo back onto the shelf and then wiping her hands across her pants. "How was last night?"
"Fine," I lie. "It was…fine."
Her face falls. "That bad, huh?"
"We can kill him," Jazz offers. "I'd make an awesome criminal mastermind."
The most terrifying part of that statement is the fact that she isn't wrong. She would be an excellent criminal mastermind.
But I don't actually need one of those right now. I need a therapist or Jesus, or whichever authority it is that sorts out my mess.
Who do you go to when your date turns out to be a creep, so you go home with your best friend's brother and call him Daddy while he makes you see stars? Is there a hotline for that or…?
I think I'm on my own with this one. I mean, it's not like I can tell my best friend that I slept with her brother last night. I absolutely can't tell her that I called him Daddy and loved the way the name felt on my lips.
I'm still trying to process that myself. I've been whispering it in secret for years, so it's not like I didn't know that I wanted it. I guess I'm surprised by just how right it felt, like I was meant to say it to him.
It wasn't dirty. I didn't feel kinky or like it was just a word we were using to get each other off. It felt…significant. Important, like we'd both been dying to say it for a long time, not to just anyone but to each other. Even now, it feels the same way.
I want to hold that feeling close, keep it just for us. It isn't something anyone else needs to know or understand.
But when he said it last night, for the first time, I felt like I was finally, finally right where I belonged. I didn't have to be braver than I was or louder than I am or anything other than his baby girl. I've never felt that safe before—not ever.
How do you explain that to someone else? I don't think you can. I think it's just one of those things you keep close and cherish because it's not meant for anyone but the man who claims the title and the one who trusts him enough to let him carry it.
But that doesn't solve the more immediate dilemma. And that dilemma is this: Olive doesn't know how I feel about her brother. Not even her brother knows how I feel about him. And the thought of losing either of them has me ready to throw up.
It's not a little niggling worry, either. It's full-blown terror, the can't-feel-my-legs, can't-catch-a-breath kind that invades every single cell, pressing against your chest like an elephant.
"I…um…" I stare at my boss and Jazz, trying to breathe through the panic. Trying to figure out what I'm supposed to say or do here. It feels like the whole world is on my shoulders, and I've never been good at carrying it. That's why I hide in books. It's easier than dealing with reality.
Reality is complicated and messy. It's never tied up in a neat bow in the end like in books. There are loose threads and hidden pitfalls all over the place. You lose people and end up all alone.
"You okay?" Lilah asks, worry taking root in her perceptive gaze.
I nod quickly, sucking in a breath.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I lie. "Um, you don't need to kill anyone, Jazz. The night was great." It's not the entire truth, but it's not a total lie, either. It's the gray area in between, the one that makes the panic recede a little. I can do this. I can live right here, in the gray area.
"Are you going to see him again?" Jazz asks.
"Yes," I whisper. Because that's the truth, too. I am going to see him again. I don't think I'll be able to help myself, not after last night.