Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
PEARL
P earl stared at the magnificent creation in front of her. She wiped her forehead with her arm.
The cake for Dave’s daughter was ready, and it looked fucking great.
She’d made six tall black pillar candles out of cake and inserted a real candle deep within each of the pillars. A drizzle of black royal icing topped each one, making them look like big, realistic melting candles. They sat in a pool of raspberry-flavored fake blood.
It was metal as fuck.
And heavy as fuck.
How am I gonna carry it?
Dave had asked for a cake for seventy-five people, which meant each of the pillars was about twice as large as her trial run. The whole thing probably weighed thirty pounds and was already unstable.
She’d have to carry it down the back steps and across the yard in the pouring rain to her car.
Wait, how will I keep it from sliding around?
Fuck.
Panic rose up in her chest.
She’d have a soggy, wet mess of a cake by the time she got it to the bar. If she could even pick it up. Her stress had decided to manifest in her lower back pain this week.
The back door opened, and a sopping Reed jogged inside. He was shirtless, his hair wet, and he wasn’t wearing glasses as per usual during his run. It was still a little bit like seeing a skunk without its stripes.
Droplets of water ran down his chest, and they were tantalizing. He had a lack of chest hair, which honestly kind of did it for her.
He blew out a breath and scooped his hair that was normally a little all over the place back.
“Had to turn back,” he huffed. “The sky turned as black as—oh, well, your cake, actually.”
She was mesmerized by the dots of water dripping down his chest. It took everything in her body not to walk over and lick them up, chasing the taste of him from their kiss.
She scowled instead. “Yeah, well, the rain’s fucking ruined my day.”
“Why? You love the rain. Nothing more metal than the sky screaming out in pain, right?” He smiled, all easygoing attitude.
Okay, fine. He was right. She fucking loved the rain.
It was unsettling having someone that paid so much attention to you.
“I just—I can’t get the cake to the car without it being wet. And then even if I can do that, it’ll be a mess by the time I get to the bar.”
He shrugged and started rooting in the coat closet. “I’ll help. I’ll carry, and you can use my two umbrellas to protect the cake.”
“But how do I keep the cake dry when I take it out?”
“I’ll just go with you,” he said, tossing on a shirt that he’d left on the kitchen chair. “I’ll be your assistant.” He slid on his glasses slowly with a smile as he stared at her.
Holy fuck. New kink unlocked.
She’d always had a thing for glasses. She’d take Clark Kent over Superman any day of the week (a nice, corn-fed guy who believed in journalistic integrity and wanted to make the world a better place? Yes, please).
But seeing someone putting them on slowly as he stared at her was…
Distracting.
Why yes, Professor No Shirt, I would love for you to be my assistant and do naughty, naughty things to me.
“Come on. I’ll hold the cake as you drive; it’ll be fine,” he said, goading her, his signature sunshine brighter than before.
After much wiggling, trepidation, and caution—both to the car and out of the car—the cake was safely inside The Thirsty Beaver at a raucous party fifteen minutes later.
Music blared from the sound system, and everyone oohed and clapped when she brought in the cake, candles lit. Tons of people took photos as Pearl set the cake down.
“That’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen!” Dave’s daughter shouted. “Can I, like, fucking eat it?”
“Yep, you can like, fucking eat it,” Pearl said with a smile. “No eggs, dairy, gluten, or nuts.”
An older woman pulled her to the side. “I have a grandkid who’d love this. She’s into all that goth shit like Amber is,” she said, nodding at the girl who was gleefully hugging Dave.
“Sure,” Pearl said.
“Hey, my wife can’t have gluten,” another guy said, “and she loves whoopie pie things, but we can’t ever find any for her. Could you make those?”
“Um, yeah,” Pearl said with a smile.
“Hey,” an older leather-clad biker lady at the bar shouted in a husky voice. “My girlfriend’s vegan and has a nut allergy?—”
“Yeah, she does!” another guy called.
“Shut the fuck up, Tom!” the woman said, giving him the middle finger. “Could you make her somethin’ for our anniversary?”
“Sure, I can do that.” She was feeling overwhelmed. Having people shout at her from all directions was new.
A heavy hand pulled on Pearl’s shoulder, and she turned around, eyes glaring.
“ You got a nut allergy, gorgeous?” a greasy man who looked old beyond his years slurred in her direction, the smell of whiskey rolling off of him.
“No, but I’m good at de-nutting men who deserve it,” she said, shrugging his hand off with a glare and walking to get contact info from her new customers.
She found Dave next, needing to get paid. He handed her a hundred dollar bill.
“Dave, this is too much. I don’t have any change.” They’d agreed on seventy-five.
“I haven’t seen Amber this happy in a real long time,” Dave said with a hand on his beard, staring at his daughter. His daughter was probably only twenty or so. “Take it. You earned it.”
“Thanks, man,” she said, smiling.
Fuck yeah.
This was the final hundred dollars she needed to get an EpiPen. And it was the first hundred dollars she’d made on her own doing something she loved .
If she didn’t need it to live, she’d probably frame it or some sentimental shit like that.
Maybe she was actually good at something. She turned around, having stashed the hundred in her bra.
“You got any more room in there?” the greasy man from before said, walking toward her with his arms out wide.
She saw red. “You know what, motherfucker?” She took off her rings. She didn’t want this guy’s blood in her jewelry.
As she looked up, Reed was suddenly in between them.
“Hey, buddy,” he said with a tense smile, laying a hand on this guy’s shoulder. “Trust me when I say: you will not survive if you keep talking. Here’s a glass of water”—he shoved a glass into the guy’s hand—“and a ten-percent-off coupon for all feminist literature at the bookstore opening in town in a few weeks.”
He leaned in close to the guy, whispering in his ear with a friendly smile as his hand tightened on his shoulder. The guy blanched, staring at Pearl in horror.
Reed turned toward Pearl and escorted her toward the door, putting his body in between her and the skeezy guy.
Her head spun. “I could have handled him,” she said, her eyes glaring back toward the man who still stood befuddled, muttering the word “feminist” and looking at the card in his hand.
“Of course, you could have,” Reed said with a shrug. “But then I’d have to bail you out of jail, which means no plant budget for the bookshop.”
He shoved open the door for her and let her walk through first.
“I’m used to taking care of myself.” She felt defensive as they walked out into the drizzling rain.
“Sure, but now you don’t have to.” He smiled at her as if what had just happened was normal. “Looks like it’s cleared up. I’m going to run back home. See you there?” He tossed in an earbud as he jogged away.
She waved a hand, utterly confused and yet somehow she was…
Moved?
And fuck, something else.
A little turned on.
“Pearl!” Reed’s voice thundered against the tall ceiling of the bookshop.
Pearl snickered to herself as she unpacked another box of picture books, knowing the source of his irritation.
“Why,” he yelled, walking toward her, “does the horror sign keep getting put on the current events bookshelf?”
“Because I’m hilarious!” she called from the kids’ section.
Construction had finished on the kids’ section and it looked great. Reed had added an interior wall of bookshelves that created a cozy treehouse vibe. He’d added two entrance arches in the wall—a small one for little kids to walk through and a big one for adults.
It was a lot like being in a treehouse fort and Pearl fucking loved it.
Or she would once they weren’t swimming in boxes.
He peeked through the big arch and leveled an unamused gaze at her. “Really?”
She gestured with a stuffed Curious George she’d unpacked. “It’s more accurate. That’s all I’m saying.”
“It’s looking pretty good in here,” he said, ducking under the archway.
Bookshelves lined the walls, and picture books had been set out at eye level, their bright covers facing out for display.
“I still think the beanbags are a bad choice. Do you know how sticky kids are?” Pearl eyed the bright beanbags in the corner with distrust.
He shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll Scotchgard them within an inch of their life. Every treehouse needs comfy seating.”
“Pffft,” Pearl said. “As long as you don’t kick me out of this treehouse.”
Reed and Luca had had a treehouse they’d rarely let her in when they were kids. They’d insisted she was a baby , despite being only 18 months younger than Luca.
His smile was warm and a little wistful. “Some of my favorite memories are of you in that treehouse.”
She gulped, wondering if he was thinking about what she was thinking about.
He picked up another box of stuffed animals and started pulling them out. Every major kid’s book character was represented in stuffed animal form.
“Lily is installing the papier-maché tree today.” He nodded to the mural behind her.
A large mural with an enchanted forest spanned the wall but had a conspicuous blank space for tree branches. Pearl spied Hansel and Gretel, a wolf, Little Red Riding Hood, and endless little nods to children’s literature.
“You’re really going all out, huh?”
“It’s important to get kids hooked on reading early, you know? Plus, parents have a hard time saying no to buying books.” He smirked as he unpacked a box of early-reader books. “When I have kids, their room will be wall-to-wall picture books, coloring books, graphic novels, everything.”
“You’re having multiple kids?” A little flutter tickled her stomach thinking about him as a dad.
He’d be a perfect dad. Goofy, friendly, happy, and with endless chaotic ideas.
Supportive, she considered. And helpful, noticing what needs to get done. Inclusive, too. He’d made sure to order a variety of books featuring all different orientations, races, and abilities, and it was hitting her smack in the face as she glanced across the bookshelves.
He adjusted his glasses with a smile. “Someday, hopefully. You?”
Pearl shrugged. “I don’t know that I’d be a good mom. I get enough shit from the bitchy kindergarten pickup line.”
He leaned against the bookshelf, staring down at her, shaking his head slowly.
Her heart stuttered at the sight. The casual, elegant, masculine confidence, the softness of the care in his eyes.
“Pearl, I saw you with AB. You’re so great with her. You know she talked about you nonstop when they visited me in Philadelphia? You’d be a great mom,” he said, shrugging as if it was obvious. He put up the novels on the middle-grade shelf. “You’d fight for them. That’s all kids really need. Someone who’d fight for them.”
His voice had shadows of wistfulness in it, like he’d lost something important.
Had someone fought for him?
She hoped so.
She stretched her aching back. “Feels like I’m too behind in life to find someone and pop out some babies.”
“Nah.” He handed her a stack of picture books. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I just know it.”
She paused, not taking the books from him.
Deja vu. Hemingway had said that.
“What did you say?”
“I said you’re right on time. There’s plenty of time to figure out whatever kind of family you want to have, you know?”
“Yeah.” She shook it off as a coincidence and grabbed the books. “I am a little jealous of your and AB’s handshake.”
“I knew it,” he said, smacking his hands triumphantly. “I can teach it to you.”
She scoffed. “I don’t want your pity secondhand handshake.”
“Come on,” he teased. He tugged her up with both hands, and she came flying up from the floor. She stumbled into him.
Jesus. Wouldn’t have thought he could toss me around.
He steadied her, grabbing her waist so she didn’t fall into a spinning book display. She grabbed his arms, righting herself.
“You can surprise AB when she’s back,” he said, his hands still at her waist.
He hadn’t dropped his arms, so she took the opportunity to keep her hands on his biceps.
Don’t squeeze them even though you want to, you feral tomcat.
They were chest to chest, and she dared to meet his eyes.
They roamed her face. His thumb stroked against her waist, and there was a corresponding pulse in her pussy with each brush.
Fuck, just that little touch feels so good.
He was biting his lower lip in the same way that she wanted to.
How had it only been three weeks since she’d kissed him?
And why hadn’t she been able to stop thinking about his mouth since then?
His hair artfully hung over his forehead, almost brushing his glasses. His smile spoke of hunger and wanting.
She licked her lips, wanting to taste him again.
The front door opened. “I’m here!” Lily’s bright voice called out.
“Oh, um.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose as he stepped back, clearing his throat. “Be right there!” he called with a loud voice.
“You’re good with finishing up?” he said, looking embarrassed.
Her heart sank. “Yeah, go for it.”
Reed jogged to the front of the store where Lily brought in heavy papier-maché pieces. Pearl peeked through the archway opening, her slutty eyes greedily following him.
He had on his normal uniform of a tight, fitted, white button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows, sweater vest layered over it, and loose, professional-looking pants, but that special kind where he could move around easily.
He looks good in his store .
Construction had finished on the first floor, and all the wood was starting to shine in the afternoon sun. Reed had even installed an honest-to-god rolling ladder on the shelves. She’d taken it for a ride once already today.
Okay, three times, but she wasn’t gonna tell him that.
She wasn’t going to tell him a lot of things.
Like how she’d wanted him to wrap his hand around the back of her neck and kiss her again, holding her in place.
Shut up and take it.
She clenched every inner muscle, wanting another glimpse of the untethered, raw man she’d gotten upstairs. It was almost worth being trapped in that nightmare again with him.
But as he and Lily walked back to the kids’ space, she tucked all those feelings away and went back to work.
Hemingway_cansuckit
Do you have a minute?
There’s something that’s been bothering me
ImpossiblyBookish
is it when actors do british accents for norse gods?
cause that irritates the actual shit out of me
why british?? WHY.
and if they’re the bad guy, make them be the bad guy in their own accent.
maybe i want thor to sound like the swedish chef muppet.
Hemingway_cansuckit
The cross-over we don’t deserve
No, shockingly British accent choice was not top of my list
It’s…kind of serious.
But we can talk later.
ImpossiblyBookish
no no, now’s fine
everything okay?
Hemingway_cansuckit
Yeah, I just feel weird about something.
ImpossiblyBookish
welcome to every day of my life
bras? i feel weird about ’em
the ‘pay for the person behind you’ thing? SO WEIRD. just let me buy my own shit in peace
those public bathroom fabric towel things that hang down?
bleeeech
weeeeeird
Hemingway_cansuckit
Bookish
ImpossiblyBookish
sorry. too much caffeine today.
did i do something wrong? i probably did.
probably fucked up something.
i’m sorry.
Hemingway_cansuckit
No no no
Jeez. Just let me get this out.
I…
…kind of kissed someone.
Not kind of.
I did kiss them.
It was an accident.
And I’m not going to do it again. Though…I almost did it again today.
And technically they kissed me, but still. I didn’t stop it right away.
I just feel bad because I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone else…
And then…
Well. Anyway.
I’m sorry? I think? Or maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of this.
It was just a kiss right? We’re adults.
ImpossiblyBookish
welp.
Hemingway_cansuckit
Oh no.
Please don’t be mad.
ImpossiblyBookish
no, not mad
i just realized that i should have told you the same.
i mean, mine was sort of like the kissing version of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
and it DID get me kinda hot, but the origin was purely medical.
Hemingway_cansuckit
Are you okay???
ImpossiblyBookish
yes! it was just a weird one-off.
point being, you don’t need to feel bad.
you can kiss whoever you want.
but you’re adorable for telling me
Hemingway_cansuckit
Thank god.
Finally, I can go to sleep.
ImpossiblyBookish
you were tossing and turning over lil ole me?
i’m blushing
Hemingway_cansuckit
Sweet dreams B
ImpossiblyBookish
only if you’re in them, h