Thirty-Four #2
A violent nod is her only answer as her entire body shudders. She’s right on the precipice—seconds from breaking apart in my arms.
I’m not far behind. My vision darkens at the edges.
One more word. One more move.
That’s all it’ll take.
“Fuck, Isla…” I rasp. “You're gonna—”
The sound of a clearing throat invades my ecstasy.
“Once again,” a voice carries from down the row, “so happy your Christmas wish was granted. ”
Isla squeaks. I curse. We both freeze.
Mid-thrust. Mid–mutual orgasm.
She scrambles behind one of the stacks, leaving me— and my erection —to fend for myself.
Crap .
It takes a moment before I trust myself to make direct eye contact with Nick.
Gotta give credit where it’s due—the man manages a serene smile, even though his face is the exact shade of second-hand embarrassment.
“Our broken-hearted patrons are in the midst of a riveting discussion about the climax, and—frankly—yours is proving a bit distracting.”
I try to contain my laughter while Isla chokes out a strangled “So sorry.”
“You’re welcome to join us next Saturday night for our Between the Sheets Book Club,” Nick offers. “Our motto is Zero Shelf Control —which seems to be up your alley. Or, well, aisle .” He motions across the corridor. “It’s also BYOD. Please don’t get any wild ideas—that D stands for dessert .”
Isla sways on her feet, looking perilously close to fainting.
“Now that’s settled, off with you two lovebirds,” Nick says, adjusting his glasses. “My science section can only handle so much chemistry.”
We watch him disappear out of sight before sharing a breath of relief.
“How am I supposed to work with him on the children’s wing revamp now?” Isla groans into her hands. “Did you hear what he said? We scandalized Science ! Defiled Dewey!”
“I’m sure Dewey has witnessed worse,” I tell her as we map out a stealthy exit. “Nightingale is no prude, either. ”
“Well, this is one for the books. Literally. Getting edged by Librarian Santa— check .”
Mid-step, I freeze. “Excuse me?” I slowly pivot to face her, eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”
She blinks up at me, all faux innocence. “Pretty sure Nick interrupted my orgasm. No release in New Releases .”
My jaw flexes. “ Sunshine .”
“Yes, Teddy Bear ?” she taunts.
“The only person entitled to your orgasms—aside from you, of course—is me. Always. Forever.” My voice drops to a rumble that makes her pupils dilate. “I don’t share.”
Then I swat her ass. Hard enough to make her yelp with laughter, soft enough that she eagerly leans into the touch, begging for more.
“I just want to make sure the right man receives credit for how desperately I need to come right now,” she says with a smirk.
There’s a defiant edge in her voice that makes my cock throb with the need to make her eat those words. In every way imaginable. Preferably, on her knees.
Tugging her flush against me, I bend my mouth to her ear. “Keep teasing. We both know the credit for that sweet, soaked pussy is all mine. And I’ll gladly collect what I’m owed later tonight.”
I press a kiss to her cheek, then step back while I’m still somewhat in charge of my faculties. “But since you’re so keen on playing the role of a denied damsel, you’ll be happy to know we have a few more stops left on our tour.”
Her eyes widen. “More?”
I nod, relishing the blend of frustration and delight on her flushed face. “Come on, Sunshine. Let me walk you through all the ways this town loves you.”
Before I take you home and show you how much I do.
The Gallagher Gallery is the next stop on our tour. Though a few people mill around the central exhibition space, the owner descends on us the moment we step through the door.
Buzzing like she’s running on adrenaline and multiple shots of espresso, Orla seizes Isla’s hands.
“Weaving fragments of local art across generations like a stitched quilt? Such inspired design!” she gushes. “We’ve never had international interest before. I truly believe your vision for entwining the past with the present is what brought attention to just how deep the talent runs in this town.”
Isla beams like the sun. Luminous and impossible to look away from. She lets the praise wash over her, brightening even further when Orla calls her idea of bringing on the Sinclair family’s private Starlight Summit collection “A stroke of genius!”
By the time the woman’s attention is pulled away by a potential client, Isla is a supernova. And I’m reveling in her light.
For the remainder of our visit, we explore the artwork at a leisurely pace. A devoted follower, I hang on Isla’s every word as she leads me through the ages, sharing stories about each display.
When we turn the corner to enter a smaller room at the back of the gallery, her steps stutter.
A wide acrylic landscape takes up the entirety of one wall. Intertwining quadrants show winter’s snowfall melting into spring blossoms, and the summer sun fading beneath autumn’s fire. The same fixed perspective, presenting four different versions of the springs.
Isla shuffles closer. “I didn’t know they were considering this piece,” she says softly. “My mom donated it to the town, but it got stashed away somewhere. Nobody knew where it went.”
“Now it’s right where it belongs.”
Unable to get Isla's story about her parents' dream out of my head, I scoured all of Sugarpine Springs, finally tracking Celeste's painting to the old town archives. It was tucked away behind boxes of historical documents. Knowing it belonged to Isla’s present, we rescued it and talked to Orla about adding it to the collection.
It hardly took much convincing on our part.
Isla stares at it for a long time. Then she exhales, the corners of her mouth tilting up in a gentle smile. “It’s no Greene Gallery, but my parents would be thrilled.” More quietly, she adds, “ I am thrilled.”
Good . Exactly the point of this tour, in fact.
Isla, basking in her brilliance.
“This is the third proposal that’s gone down since we walked in,” Isla whispers.
I can’t tell if she’s in awe or utterly aghast.
A wave of applause breaks out across the jewelry store as the couple at the front counter finishes their very public declaration of love. Another champagne cork pops. More strangers cheer .
I give her rib a gentle nudge with my elbow. “Worried I’m about to make it four?”
Though her eyes widen, she recovers quickly. “No,” she says with a headshake. “We’re just here to check in on my work, right?”
“Hmm…more like admire your immense talent—but close enough.”
I steer her past the love-coated chaos to a display at the back of the store that’s in the process of being constructed.
“It’s not finished yet.” Isla brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have quite a bit of troubleshooting ahead before the interactive elements function properly.”
The wall is lined with shadow boxes, each serving as a curated moment showcasing a piece of jewelry. Buttons and levers gleam from polished wood bases. I engage a switch under a pearl bracelet that lies nestled in sand. A tiny gear clicks to life, setting off a whirring sound.
“That triggers the wave,” she explains, tapping the plexiglass. “Once it’s hooked up and working properly, a curl of blue resin will sweep over the bracelet and make it look like the tide is coming in.”
“Javier helped with the mechanics?” I ask, referring to the hardware store owner.
She nods. “It only took three weeks of me sketching impossible ideas and him reminding me we can’t bend the laws of physics for us to finally land on a compromise. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.”
“I’ve seen the drafts,” I say, “but witnessing the art come alive in person…” I trail off as a miniature bedroom draws my attention.
Floorboards have been recreated from tiny strips of stained wood.
A small window sits along the far wall, framed by gossamer curtains that stir in a breeze from a hidden fan.
A shimmering bulb mimics sunshine breaking through clouds.
Suspended in this beam, hanging from an invisible thread, an emerald pendant catches the light, scattering it in delicate shards.
“It’s inspired by a memory,” Isla says softly. “My mom always hung her necklaces off the corner of her vanity. When the sun's rays passed by, her jewelry painted their bedroom in a rainbow of colors.
“You’ve turned a simple stone into a heartfelt, tactile story.”
She grins proudly. "An expensive stone, but I get what you mean."
“You’ll have to present this to my team. Light a little competitive fire under their asses.”
“Sure, but don’t expect me to work for free just because we’re dating,” she teases.
“I thought we could barter a trade.” I nuzzle her cheek, then nip at her earlobe. “I have some good services I can provide on my end. Do you accept multiple orgasms?”
“ Quit it .” She pushes against my chest. “You’re about to get us banned from another beloved local institution.”
“Not before I have a chance to present my gift.”
Isla bites down on her lip. “A present from here ?”
“Once again, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
It would hardly make sense to spring a surprise proposal on a woman who just started believing in happy endings. Plus, I’m pretty damn sure she’d want to wear her mom’s ruby engagement ring over anything I could source from this store.
As I duck into the back office in search of the custom-made piece I commissioned, I hear her mutter, “What if I wouldn’t mind worrying? ”
Rushing back to the showroom floor, I hold out a white velvet case. “Please accept this piece of jewelry that in no way is meant for any of your fingers.”
She stares at it like she’s trying to calculate its blast radius.
“It’s not a trap,” I assure her. “Just a nonthreatening necklace. Put me out of misery and take a look.”
Her eyes narrow, but she takes hold of the box. As soon as she cracks the lid open, her breath hitches. “A key?”
“Not just any key. It’s a miniature replica of the Sugarpine Springs town key.”
Her throat constricts as she lifts the dainty necklace out by its fine chain. The pendant swings, gleaming beneath the overhead lights.
“A reminder that you belong,” I explain. “That this place isn’t just your past. It’s your future, too. History and home.”
“ Theo …” She looks up at me with eyes that are too wide, too wet, and doing extremely hazardous things to my heart.
“This is…” she starts, but the sentence dissolves on a broken sob. A happy one. “I love it. I love—” She lets out a shaky laugh before winding her arms around my neck and pulling me into a soul-consuming kiss. “I love everything about today.”
“Everything?” I prompt.
“Everything,” she confirms, wild heart beating against mine.
Good enough.