by Lacey Black
Love and Lingerie
Rockland Falls Book 2
Copyright © 2019 Lacey Black
Photograph by Sara Eirew
Cover Models: Mike Chabot and Karine Lefebvre
Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs
Editing by Kara Hildebrand
Proofreading by Joanne Thompson & Karen Hrdlicka
Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
All rights reserved.
Index
Also by Lacey Black
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Lacey Black
Rivers Edge series
Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers
~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance
~ #2 Bestseller in overall free e-books
Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)
Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)
Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)
Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)
Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)
Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)
~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology
BOX SET – contains all 5 novels, 2 novellas, and a BONUS short story
Bound Together series
Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)
~ An International Bestseller
Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)
~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers
Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)
Summer Sisters series
My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)
~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers
My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)
My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)
My Kinda Mess, Summer Sisters book 4 (Lexi and Linkin)
My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 5 (AJ and Sawyer)
My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 6 (Meghan and Nick)
My Kinda Wedding, A Summer Sisters Novella book 7 (Meghan and Nick)
Rockland Falls series
Love and Pancakes, Rockland Falls book 1
Love and Lingerie, Rockland Falls book 2
Standalone
Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone
A Place To Call Home, a novella
Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s, a sexy contemporary romance standalone novella
*Coming Soon from Lacey Black
Love and Landscape, Book 3 in the Rockland Falls series
Dedication
Kaylee Ryan, thanks for having my back in this crazy world we live and breathe in. Author friends make some of the best friends!
Chapter One
Harper
Saturdays are my favorite days.
That moment where the world is starting to move about town, open signs are flipped, and the bright sun starts to filter through the large windows. But not today. Today, the sun is nowhere to be seen. That should be an indicator of how the rest of the day is going to go. Yet, evermore the optimist, I flip the sign on the front window and prepare to greet the day.
Kiss Me Goodnight is my home away from home, the premiere destination for whatever your heart desires. I have subtle satins, sexy laces, daring leathers, and even a few pieces that may cause you to question your particular brand of kink. But we’re more than that too. I stock handmade lotions and soaps, locally made shampoos and conditioners, and perfumes from a small independent business that got their start in the family kitchen.
But I want more.
I have ideas.
Just no space to make it happen.
Sure, I’ve checked into a couple of other available buildings in the square, but neither of them are what I’m looking for. Neither of them have the proper space for my vision. It wouldn’t be a solid move upward, but more lateral. Plus, they both face the north and are shaded by a huge oak tree that would eliminate the early morning sun warming up my boutique. Those spaces just don’t feel right.
The best option is to buy the building that’s pieced directly between Douglas Hardware and myself. It’s been empty forever, the owner never even entertaining an offer to sell. She’s rented it a few times, but nothing ever stuck. It’s a small space, barely five hundred square feet, but when you add that to my existing eight hundred square feet, it would make for a wonderful place to spread my wings and grow. Yesterday’s conversation with my loan officer comes back to me, along with the dollar amount he approved to lend, if my offer is accepted. Then, there was the trip to the realtor’s office and the earnest money I delivered to make said offer. It’s starting to come together.
I smile as I glance around my business and complete my customary two-twirl spin by the front door. I built this myself, with blood, sweat, and tons of tears. It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. Not when the old men on the city council wanted nothing to do with a “dirty sex shop” coming to paint a bright red A on the town square’s sweater vest. But this isn’t a sex shop. There isn’t a sex toy to be seen, outside of my own nightstand drawer. This is about seduction, self-confidence, and feminism. Empowerment, that’s the word I like to use. Hell, I even have it on my company business cards.
Grabbing my nonfat, caramel mocha and the white bag containing my morning blueberry crumble muffin (my little sister is seriously the best baker ever), I slip behind the counter and fire up the computer. It’s slow to boot on this gloomy Saturday, so I keep chugging my sugary coffee drink and wait it out. When the machine is finally alive, it starts to blink back at me. The cursor. Right there at the top of the screen. Blink. Blink. Blink.
I start to click like a madwoman, because, when all else fails, just start stabbing your mouse with your index finger. Yet nothing seems to happen. I recall Samuel’s control-alt-delete trick, pressing all three buttons at the same time and waiting, fingers figuratively crossed. I rip into the muffin, shoveling my first bite into my mouth in annoyance—not at the breakfast treat, but at the situation. After a few long seconds, it starts blinking again, mocking me with its inability to do
its job.
So I kick the tower under the counter.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Nothing. Works.
“Dammit!” I bellow, cursing my super cute strappy sandals and their failure to cover my now aching toes properly.
Grabbing my phone, I fire off a text message to my older brother, Samuel, who will surely come to my computer crisis rescue. He’s the oldest of us four Grayson siblings and takes his role very seriously. He’s also the most anal-retentive man I’ve ever known. He’s our resident negotiator, computer guru, and town government buff. Plus, if you ever need lengthy contracts reviewed, he gets off on that shit. Well, I don’t know that for a fact, because—eww, he’s my brother—but you get my drift.
I fire off a quick text message.
Me: Computer at work won’t turn on. Help?
He replies right away.
Samuel: Getting ready to bury Mr. Crosswell. Should be done by one.
Did I forget to mention Samuel is a funeral director? Oops. My oldest brother spends his days and nights with the dead, which is actually quite fitting, considering he’s the most awkward of us all when dealing with the living.
Me: One?!? *insert whiney GIF* What am I supposed to do until then?
Samuel: Do it the old-fashioned way. Carbon copy receipts and a calculator.
Me: That sounds horrible! *insert crying emoji*
Samuel: You’ll survive. Sales tax is seven point two-five percent. Don’t forget that. Otherwise, you’re paying it out of pocket. Keep your receipt copies and I’ll do a spreadsheet when I get there.
Me: You’ve ruined my Saturday.
Samuel: I did no such thing. Besides, you get to create a spreadsheet and input numbers. This will be fun.
Me: Said no human being ever…
Samuel: Gotta go. The dead wait for no one.
Me: Was that a joke? Did you seriously just crack a funny? I’m so proud of you, Sam-I-Am! *insert happy wiping tear gif*
Samuel: Goodbye, sister. Get your receipt book out of the back of the drawer. It’s underneath the daily deposit sheets beside the inventory folder.
Me: Boy, you know how to have a good time, buddy.
He doesn’t respond. Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I stare at the offending electronic device one more time, secretly praying for it to magically fire to life. When nothing happens but that damn blinking cursor, I groan loudly and reach for my mocha, clipping the cup with my fingers and sending it flying. The plastic lid on the top pops off, spilling four dollars of premium Joe all over my new sample packets of lotions and perfumes.
“Son of a bitch!” I bellow into the empty store at the exact same time the bell chimes above the door, notifying me of a customer.
“Well, what did my mother ever do to you?” Mr. Douglas asks with a wide grin as he enters.
“Oh my gosh, Mr. Douglas, I’m so sorry you heard that. You know I wasn’t referring to you…or your mother,” I apologize profusely, reaching for a roll of paper towels and giving him a look of regret. The truth is, however, his mom really is a grumpy ol’ bitty. Annie Douglas is a snippy, snarky old woman who most of the town gives a wide berth to. They also helped spearhead the lynch mob that tried to delay my building permits and license approval. They didn’t feel a sex shop was the ideal business to have located beside their precious hardware store.
Little did they know, they are two very different things that can actually work hand in hand…
“Ehh, you’re fine, dear. Mother is rather bitchy most days. And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Bud?” he asks, hands in his pockets and a friendly smile on his face as he approaches my counter. “Oh, dear, what did you do?” Bud reaches for the paper towels and helps blot up the mess.
“I’m having an off morning. First my computer died, and now I spilled my coffee all over the new samples,” I tell him, dumping the small packets out of the basket.
I run in the back quickly and rinse out the container. While it’s drying, I head back up to begin the daunting task of hand cleaning all of the small samples. When I reach the front, Bud is there, wiping each one down and setting it aside in a new basket he found under the counter.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him, reaching for a stack and starting to clean.
“I don’t mind, dear. Plus, I might as well get used to having some free time. I’ve decided it’s time to retire.”
I stare wide-eyed at the man who runs the hardware store. He has definitely aged some over the last two years, but he seems to be doing fine health-wise. “Are you…okay?” I ask, choking up a little on the thought of Bud being sick. He seriously is the sweetest, kindest man I’ve ever known. In fact, I’ve sort of placed him in the position of father figure, considering my own dad is too busy traipsing around the world with his new wife. The one who’s my age.
“Oh, I’m fine. Great, actually,” he says, throwing his paper towel in the trash and leaning against the counter. “Kitty and I have been thinking about getting one of those RV things and doing some cruising.
I smile. “I can see you both doing that.”
“Well, now that she’s retired from the school, I think it’s time to take a step back from the hardware store. I have a great group of guys who work there, and they’ll be able to take the reins and keep it going strong.”
Again, I offer him a warm smile, which he returns. It’s amazing that a man as genuine and caring as Bud can come from a pair of grumps like Annie and Ernest. Not to mention he and Kitty birthed the spawn of Satan himself. Thinking about their son, Latham, gets my blood pumping in a whole different way. He’s a jerk, an ass, and the last time I saw him, I might have punched him in the gut and slammed my heel into his foot.
“Anyway, I just stopped over to tell you the news. I’m going to help through the end of August to train my replacement. Then, we’re off to see the countryside,” he adds, pushing his glasses up his nose and flashing me another grin.
“I’m happy for you.” I truly am. Kitty was the first official customer I had when I opened my doors, and Bud delivered fresh coffee cake to me that very afternoon. Something about the ivory and navy bra she chose and how it…complemented her skin tone nicely.
Right…
He heads toward the door, but stops before he can exit. “Oh, I’ll send my guy over shortly. He’s a wiz at computers.”
I stand there, stunned, and eternally grateful for the gesture. “Thank you, Mr. Douglas.”
“Bud,” he reminds me, as he waves and slips out the front door.
I straighten up the front counter, rearrange the new line of panties on the front display table, and dust the shelving that houses my bath and body products. I desperately need more space. I have so many amazing ideas and items I can offer Rockland Falls, but unless I want to hang it from the ceiling, I’m about out of options. I can’t even search space-saving display ideas on the Internet because my computer is down.
Sighing, I reach for my phone and send off a quick message to my sister. Marissa is probably having sex, lucky bitch. Not that I’m envious of her relationship with Rhenn, but more that she gets some regularly, and from a smokin’ hot man to boot.
Marissa met Rhenn two months ago when our family’s bed and breakfast caught fire. He was the electrician hired to rewire the house during the reconstruction phase, and the sparks definitely flew. I convinced her to have a little no-strings sex with the man, which ended up being the best thing that happened to either of them. They fell in love. Rhenn relocated, from his hometown about three hours away, to be closer to my sister, and they’ve been sneaking in amazing everywhere-sex as often as possible.
See? Lucky bitch.
The bell chimes once more and I quickly put my phone away. Two young women enter the shop, each holding the signature cup from the coffee house down the street, laughing, and carrying on. I’m instantly jealous of their caffeine-infused goodness, sad I had to go and spill mine. Maybe I can talk my bestie, Freedom, into making a quick cof
fee delivery.
“Good morning, ladies. How are you this morning?” I offer to the new arrivals.
“Excellent,” the blonde coos. “My friend is getting married in a few weeks and we need something sexy and naughty that will make her new husband drool.” Her friend giggles, nodding her head in emphasis.
“Well, you’re in the right place. I have just the thing,” I state, leading them to the section I consider honeymoon worthy. The bride ends up buying a set to wear beneath her wedding dress, as well as something for the first night of their honeymoon, while her friend purchases some of the fun, bold new boy-cut cheekies I just got in last week. Even with having to handwrite their receipts and basically wanting to jab a pen in my eyeball because it takes so long, it was a great first sale of the day.
Unfortunately, the rest of the morning doesn’t quite go the same. A few customers come in to browse, one with a young child in tow who knocks over the mannequin displaying a negligée, and then proceeds to throw a temper tantrum that results in him swiping all the bras off the table beneath it. While I was cleaning up that mess, another potential customer complained about the thin lace on some of the panties and said it never holds up in the wash. Both ladies left (and fortunately, the kid, too) empty-handed.
By noon, my stomach is growling. I got distracted by the lack of computer and taking care of the few customers who shopped that I never finished my muffin. When I finally dig it out of the bag, it’s already drying out, considering it’s missing its top, but that doesn’t stop me from shoveling the entire base into my mouth as if I haven’t seen food in a week. I can barely even close my mouth when I hear the bell chime above the door.
I try to chew quickly and not choke at the same time. My mouth is so packed with muffin goodness, it’s practically impossible to close my trap and keep half-chewed food particles from flying from my face. Why I thought it was a good idea to shove the entire thing in my mouth is beyond me. Maybe because I’ve always had killer mouth skills? That makes me snicker.
And almost choke.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Harper Grayson.”
