Chapter Two
Ren had been running late this morning. It was so unlike her. She just felt frazzled and unorganized.
She set her purse behind the counter and used her key to unlock the safe and pull out the stack of rare records for the front display.
Her parents had opened this shop twenty years ago, and for two straight decades, they had locked up the rare records at nights.
Sure, they were insured, but these belonged in someone’s personal collection, not in some thief’s hands.
She set up the display in a rush and locked the glass cabinet, then took a healthy sip of her coffee and remembered she hadn’t locked her car.
“Shoot,” she muttered, shoving her sunglasses up on her head and aiming her car key at the front window.
From here, she could see her headlights flash. Sweet. This key fob reached pretty far.
Goodness, she loved her new car. She’d been saving for it for two years. Her hair was in a constant state of messy right now with that convertible top down, but she didn’t care. Who did she need to impress?
Herself. That was all.
Ren smiled and made her way to the front door, flipped the sign to open, and bustled to the back room to toss a frozen breakfast sandwich into the microwave in the break room. She was starving this morning. Well, she was starving every morning. This would be her third breakfast.
The hunger came with the territory.
The bell dinged over the front door, and for some reason, a soft growl escaped her. Huh. Weird. She hadn’t heard that in a year at least.
The breakfast sandwich had another thirty seconds to heat, but she left it and headed into the main room of the store to greet the customer.
She smelled him at the exact moment she saw him.
Cat.
Ren froze in the breakroom doorway.
The man was tall and had probably had to duck under the top of the door.
He stood with impeccable posture, his head cocked.
He wore sunglasses. His dark hair was messy on top, but the purposeful kind.
The sides of his hair had been cut short and blended into a dark beard.
She could see his jawline was chiseled, and his throat muscular.
He wore a hoodie, but through it, she could tell he was freaking jacked.
He filled up the entire room. At least, that’s what it felt like.
Ren swallowed hard and pulled her sunglasses over her eyes. “Welcome in,” she said politely.
He parted his lips to say something, but the ding of the microwave seemed to cause him to change his mind. He gestured to the breakroom, like he was dismissing her.
Strange.
“Um, feel free to look around. We have a sale running on the records on the back wall. It’s buy one, get one half off today. Well, every Tuesday we run that sale.” She forced a smile. “Um, I don’t want any trouble. I’m not in the culture.” She didn’t know why she’d felt the need to say that.
He didn’t answer, just stared at her.
The microwave gave a warning beep that she hadn’t opened the door yet. Right.
She cleared her throat and backed into the breakroom. She shouldn’t give a dominant Cat her back.
Ren grabbed her steaming breakfast sandwich, plopped it onto a plate, and meandered past the Cat to the cash register. She hadn’t even opened it for the day, so she busied herself doing that while her third breakfast cooled.
He was looking through the records at the back wall now, slowly flipping through organized rows of them. Ren could feel his attention on her though.
“I’m Ren,” she introduced herself lamely.
The man slid her a glance. “You don’t have to wear the sunglasses. I could smell you from across the street.”
Ren crossed her arms over her chest and glanced down at the handgun safe under the register. She could have it open in seconds.
“You’re wearing sunglasses too,” she pointed out pointedly.
The man removed his glasses, exposing bright blue eyes.
Ren froze. Shit. He was a white tiger. They were the only Cats in existence that she knew of who had blue eyes. His animal would be enormous. So much for hoping he was a cheetah or cougar.
Ren pursed her lips. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
The man moved around the store, checking different records. He lifted one out and looked at it for a few seconds before he brought it to the register to pay.
She looked at the cover. It was an old Bush album. Their first. “You like Bush?” she asked.
“I did. I guess I still do.” He gestured to the record. “That just gave me a memory of walking around with my discman playing this album, trying to walk steady so it wouldn’t skip.”
Ren couldn’t help her smile. “Funny how records do that.”
He didn’t say anything, just pulled out cash from his wallet.
“I used to have a discman too,” she said conversationally. “It was purple. I wore that thing out.”
“What are you?” he asked suddenly.
Ren closed down immediately. “That’s rude,” she said softly. She lowered her gaze to the cash register as she made change, then set the record into a bag and pushed it across the counter toward him. “Have a good day.”
The man nodded, his eyes boring into her.
“Can you tell me where I can get a record player?” he asked in a deep, rumbling voice. “I’ve never had one. I don’t know anything about them.”
She glanced up at him, and his bright blue gaze was trained on her. She’d known he was well built and handsome before he’d removed his sunglasses, but now he was stunning and hard to look away from. “You’re a white tiger,” she said.
He nodded. “I thought you said it was rude to talk about the animal.”
“It is.”
“Why?”
She shrugged then pointed to the back room. “There are record players back there.”
He glanced toward the room and then back to her. “Any recommendations? I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
She stood and made her way around the counter then led him to the back room. She waited for chills to ripple up her spine at having him behind her, but it didn’t happen. “What kind of music do you like?” she asked just to get him talking.
“A little of everything. Not jazz as much. I mean, I’ll listen to it, but it’s not my first choice. Elevator music grates on my senses.”
“Mine too,” she said honestly. “It hurts my ears sometimes.”
“Yeah. Same. Elevators get overwhelming if the music is playing too loud.”
“Yes!” she said, feeling a connection. She was good at this part—at talking to people. It’s why her mom trusted her with the store. “Okay, what’s the budget?” she asked, gesturing to two priced tags on the wall of record players. “Those are your ranges at this store.”
“No budget. What’s the best one to listen to Comedown on and feel like I’m at the concert?”
A smile confiscated her entire face, and she pointed to the third most expensive record player. “That’s your guy.”
The man nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ll take it.”
As she grabbed a boxed one off the stack, she told him, “Your life is about to change. It’s hard to stop at just one record. There is something about coming home after a long day of work, putting that needle on the record, and drinking a beer while relaxing into the song.”
A soft smile flashed on his lips, and he took the record player from her arms.
Oh. That was nice. She strode into the main room and toward the cash register, but he stopped her with his words. “What record would you pick?”
“My favorite?”
“What would you pick for me?”
She grinned and headed directly for the bin she wanted. She grabbed a Soundgarden record and faced it to him. “This one. I’m going to dig up all those nostalgic memories for you. This one will send you down the rabbit hole.”
The smile faded from his face, and he jerked his gaze to the carpet.
“Did I…did I say something wrong?”
He cleared his throat and tilted his chin toward the record in her hands. “I’ll take it.”
Confused by the strange moment, she murmured. “Okay. I’ll go ring you up.”
He followed her at a distance, milled around, and looked at a few more record bins before he returned to the cash register. Again, he handed her cash. He had a huge wad of it in his wallet.
“What do you do for work?” she asked conversationally.
He was frowning down at his vibrating phone. “I detail cars. I had my own company I built from the ground up and sold it this year.”
“Wow,” she said, impressed. “Congratulations.”
He denied the call and shoved his phone into his back pocket. “I ended up getting screwed in the deal. Figured it out after all the paperwork was signed.” He gave her an empty smile and then took the handles of the bags from her grasp. “Have a good day…Ren, did you say it was?”
“Yeah. Ren.”
He looked her up and down, but it wasn’t a hungry look that made her uncomfortable. More like he was trying to figure her out. “I’m Marsden. People call me Mars.”
“Mars,” she repeated softly. That was a cool name.
“I like your Bronco,” he said, gesturing out the window.
“I like your…” Face and physique, honestly. “Um, hoodie.”
He looked down at the logo on his chest. It was a hunting and fishing logo with a buck on there. “Thanks. Hey listen, if I come back here again, don’t tell me anything personal, okay?”
“Uuuuh, okay?”
And then Marsden…Mars…the mysterious hot and cold white tiger Cat left, and the sound of the bell on the door echoed a strange and lonely sound into the shop.