by Lacey Black
Pity.
I’ll just settle for the satisfaction of knowing I got him way better than his stupid cake/fake wedding/surprise baby joke yesterday. Which, by the way, took me a while to convince Jasmine that I wasn’t knocked up with Satan’s spawn. The engagement? Well, I left that fight to deal with another day.
Now, I’m standing at my fancy new laptop, a wide smile on my face, and ready to flip the open sign for the day. The sun is shining, the weather is perfect late-July weather on the beach, and I have a date for Saturday night.
Yes, you hear me right.
A date.
It happened last night when I was leaving the gym. I had to run an extra mile and row my ass off to burn the calories from yesterday morning’s cake-fest. Do I regret it? Not for a second. I could have done with a little less Latham, but the cake was amazing, so sometimes, you have to take the bad with the good.
Anyway, back to my date. When I was finished working out, freshly showered, and heading to the small beverage counter for a smoothie, one of the regulars stopped me and bought my drink. We chatted for a few minutes, and that’s when Skyler asked me out. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to accept his invitation. I mean he’s a little older than me (not a big deal, really) and is recently divorced (also, not a huge deal either), but for some reason, I hesitated.
Am I ready to date? It has been half a year since I was in a relationship with the spineless bastard known as Joey Trudeau. It wouldn’t hurt me to go out and enjoy a drink or meal with someone of the opposite sex who isn’t family. Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure Skyler is the right guy for my return visit into dating.
That’s when I saw Latham.
He was standing in the gym, just over Skyler’s shoulder, and he was talking to one of the barely legal gym bunnies who show up every day in itsy bitsy workout attire and take selfies on all the equipment. All the guys drool all over them, and apparently, Latham is no different.
So, I glanced back at Skyler, his mustache starting to turn gray at the lip, and say yes.
And now I have a date on Saturday night, and I won’t think about Latham at all.
My email dings with a notification, which turns out to be my order confirmation for my Latham gift. This is me, not thinking about him. To be fair, I vowed not to give him a thought on Saturday. I didn’t say anything about today. As I peruse over my order confirmation, a smile spreads across my face.
This is going to be the best gift ever!
Chapter Eight
Latham
Come Friday morning, I realize I have a problem. A big one.
Namely, Harper Grayson.
And the fact she increased her bid on the property between us.
I guess, technically, that’s two problems.
The first one creeps up right about the time I go to sleep. And wake up. And shower. And hear someone humming one of those stupid-ass boy band songs she’s so fond of. Basically, she’s a big problem I can’t seem to eradicate from my mind. It’s like she pitched a fucking tent in my head and is in it for the long run. Speaking of tents, I seem to be pitching one regularly too. Every time I think about her, things start to happen in my pants.
That second problem is the reason I’m at work early on Friday morning. I put in a call to my realtor, Pete, who said I’ve made the best offer I could and that it was a waiting game. Two offers on the table, and it was up to Mrs. Morton to decide which way she wanted to go. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to grease the wheels a little, if you know what I mean. That’s why I’ll be stopping by Mrs. Morton’s place this weekend to see if there’s anything I can help with around the house. You know, maintenance shit. She only has granddaughters, so I’m sure she’d appreciate a big strong man stopping by to help her mow her grass or mend the fence. Plus, Mom’s making me one of her famous carrot cakes to take with me.
No one can resist Mom’s carrot cake.
That deal is as good as mine.
So, by the time lunch rolls around, I’m in a damn good mood. Even dealing with Felicity can’t dampen this day. She prances around, flirting with the customers in a way that would make my grandpa spit nails, and always finds herself “busy” when it comes time to actually check out the customers. But today, not even her constant touches get under my skin.
Today, is a good fucking day.
“Latham, you have a package!” Felicity hollers from the front counter. I’ve slipped into the office to get started on the payroll, something else that won’t even dampen my good mood.
I get up and head up front, wishing Dale hadn’t taken the first lunch break today. Felicity’s there, a wide smile spread across her pink lips, as she waves a cylinder in front of my face. It’s about a foot long and has no distinguishing markings to tell what it is.
“What’s that?” I ask, reaching for the package.
“I’m not sure, but it has your name on it,” she replies, stepping forward and placing the cylinder against my chest, running her nails along my pec as she goes.
“Thanks,” I grumble, stepping around her claws and setting the package on the counter.
There’s no company name on the return label, just a PO Box address. Most of our shipments come to the back door, and I don’t have anything outstanding that I’m waiting on. It must be a sample. We get them occasionally from distributors and companies hoping we’ll carry their product.
I slice through the tape and apply a little pressure to the plastic lid. It’s not easy to get it to move, but once it does, it pops open.
It. Fucking. Pops. Open.
And I’m showered in something tiny.
I blink, my ears ringing from the noise the canister made when the lid blew, and realize I have spots in my vision. It’s like there’s shit stuck to my eyeballs.
“Oh my God!” Felicity exclaims, laughing hysterically behind me.
“What the fuck,” I grumble, swiping at my eyes and finding my hands covered in tiny pink flecks of…
Glitter.
“You’ve been glitter-bombed! That’s the best gag ever,” she continues, cackling and carrying on. “It’s pink too! You should see your hair.” Turning around, I glance her way, only to have her burst out into a fresh wave of laughter. “Holy shitballs, it’s in your beard too!”
“What the hell is this shit?” I ask, running my hands over my face and seeing little pink particles rain all over the counter and floor.
“It’s a glitter bomb. Haven’t you heard of them?” she asks, earning a growl in response from me. “So anyway, you send an anonymous glitter bomb to someone and it explodes, raining glitter all over the place. That stuff is horrible to clean up,” she adds, making no movement to retrieve a broom.
“That’s just fucking great,” I grumble.
“Oh, it was great,” she says as I shake out my hair. “It’s stuck everywhere. I think you have it in your ears.”
“I need a shower,” I state, wondering how long it’ll be before Dale returns so I can slip upstairs and clean up.
“Oh, a shower won’t help much. Glitter is like little pieces of hell that glue themselves to everything and anything. You’ll be picking that stuff out of your hair and clothes for weeks,” she adds with another giggle. “Who did you piss off?”
“What?” I ask, turning to face her.
“What?”
“What did you mean about pissing someone off?” I ask.
“A glitter bomb. They advertise as the best way to payback someone you hate. Glitter is a nightmare.”
Hate.
Fuck me.
That little devil.
“I’ll be back,” I yell, as I round the counter and head toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Felicity hollers.
“To buy a thong.” I fly out the door and stomp down the block.
As soon as I reach her door, I take a few deep, calming breaths before I give the glass door a tug. It opens easily, the little bell above announcing my arrival. Free is standing at the counter and
glances up, instantly bursting into huge fits of laughter. “Are you trying out for a music video? That’s pretty badass, Latham.”
“Where is she?”
“Who would you be referring to?” Free asks, an ornery smile on her bright red lips.
“Don’t play coy with me, Freedom Rayne,” I state as I approach the counter.
“I would never, Latham Douglas,” she mirrors, fighting another smile. As I approach the counter, her laughter fills the room once more. “Holy shit, it’s so much better up close.”
“Ha, ha, laugh now,” I grumble, leaning on the counter, fighting my own urge to smile. I don’t know why being covered in pink glitter would make me want to grin, but for some reason, it does.
“Oh, Latham, I didn’t realize pink was your color.”
I turn to the right and see the woman responsible for my new style coming out of a closet door off to the side. Her arms are loaded with boxes, her hair pulled up in a tight ponytail that reveals the long, slender column of her neck. Suddenly, all I want to do is lick and suck on that tender skin.
“I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about this?” I ask, turning to face her as she approaches the counter, setting the boxes beside me.
“About your festive new pink look? I wouldn’t know a thing about it,” she coos, batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly. But it’s the glimmer of evil in her eyes that gives her away.
“Nothing, huh? Okay,” I state, standing up tall like I’m going to leave. “I guess I have nothing else to do but this…” And I start shaking off like a dog.
“Latham! Stop! You’re getting glitter everywhere!” Harper screeches, putting her hands up to block the flying glitter.
When I stop, I just stare down into her stunning blue eyes. They’re wide with laughter, and maybe a little irritation. “You made a mess,” she grumbles, refusing to look away.
“You should see my store.” Then I take a step forward, invading her personal space. Harper’s eyes widen just a little bit in alarm, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, my little tomcat juts her chin up high and places her hands on her hips in a defiant manner. It’s so fucking hot.
“I’m sure Felicity would be more than happy to clean up your mess.” The way she says my employee’s name makes me want to crack a smile. It’s like something left a horrible taste in her mouth.
“It’s funny, she seems to always be busy doing something else when it comes time to…work.”
Harper shrugs. “Then, I guess you’ll be cleaning it yourself.” She steps forward until we’re chest to chest, and I pray she can’t feel my growing erection in my pants. “I would tell you to shower, but I hear glitter is hell to get off the skin. Especially, the hair,” she adds, bringing her hand up and running her palm along my stubbled jawline.
Electricity zips through my blood at the contact. Her eyes darken, and suddenly, all I can think about is kissing her.
“I’ll go get a broom,” Free says, but neither of us turn to acknowledge her statement. We continue to stare at each other, contemplating our next moves. If it were up to me, my next one would be to take her in that supply closet, strip off all her clothes, and devour her entire body with my tongue.
“That wasn’t very nice,” I tell her, referring to the glitter gift.
“You called me fat,” she replies, her hand still resting on my jaw.
“I would never.”
“You insinuated it. Half the town probably thinks I’m carrying Satan’s spawn right now.”
“You’d be so lucky,” I retort, earning a snort and eye roll. I take a step forward, pressing her firmly against the counter. There’s nowhere for her to go, and she knows it. Her eyes widen more, but her tongue gives her away. It snakes out and wets her bottom lip. All I can think about is kissing those full, lush lips. “But Harper?” I ask, bringing my own hand up and cupping the back of her neck.
She makes a noise, but doesn’t actually say a word. Instead, she shivers against my body as I press my aching cock into her stomach. “I haven’t fucked you, Sweetheart. Yet.” I lean down, keeping eye contact until the last possible second. I slide my lips along her jawline, another shudder sweeping through her body. Fuck, do I love the way she responds to my touch. “But I will.”
Memorizing the way she feels, smells, and tastes, I let my lips glide along her tender flesh for too long, yet not nearly long enough. The bell above the door chimes, making us both jump apart like guilty teenagers. Reluctantly, I pull away, dropping my hand. Her eyes are glazed, her mouth slightly opened, her breathing a bit erratic.
Fuck me, I want one more taste of those damn lips.
But before I can pull her into my arms, she transforms into businesswoman Harper, steeling her back and pulling down the front of her shirt. Her eyes narrow as she glares tiny little daggers at me. I want to crack a smile, but my dick doesn’t think this is too funny right now.
“Good day, Mr. Douglas,” she says curtly.
“Yes, I should get back to the store. I have a…mess to clean up.”
That gets a tiny smile. “Well, enjoy your pink glitter.”
“Turnabout is fair play, Miss Grayson. Just remember that,” I state as I turn my back to her, coming face-to-face with the new customer for the first time.
My mom.
“Latham?”
“Hey, Mom.” Talk about uncomfortable.
“What are you doing here? Bothering poor Harper, I see,” Mom teases, a look in her eye I don’t want to dissect.
“I received a gift from poor Harper a few minutes ago.” Harper snorts behind me. “I just stopped by to say thank you.”
“Does this gift have anything to do with the fact that you look like you’ve spent the last three days straight at a strip club?” Mom asks, smiling widely, sweeping her hand across my shoulder and sending little sparkles of pink flying everywhere.
“I heard he was trying out for a boy band,” Harper chimes in, humor laced in her face.
“I do love a good boy band,” I mumble, heading toward the door.
“What can I do for you today, Kitty?” Harper says, her voice all sugary sweet for my mother.
“Well, remember that blue nighty I purchased last week? I’d love to get the same one in pink. Bud just loves that lighter shade against my pale skin,” I hear my mom say, making me stop dead in my tracks.
“Mother?” I holler over my shoulder.
“Yes, Latham?”
“Maybe, next time, wait until I’m out of earshot before talking about lingerie and my dad.”
“Noted, Son. Enjoy your afternoon! I know we will,” she hollers. And with my boner effectively squashed (probably for a very long time), I head back to my own store, the sounds of Harper and my mother giggling following me even after I step out onto the sidewalk.
I make my way down the block, swinging open my own business door, and head straight to the back staircase. I completely ignore Felicity (who hasn’t made one move to clean up the glitter) and Dale (who’s looking at me like my body was taken over by aliens) and take the stairs two at a time. I’m in desperate need of a shower and probably hypnosis, because as much as I try to push it from my mind, I just can’t stop thinking about the moment my lips touched her skin.
Or the way her eyes lit up right before that moment.
Or the way my body fired to life for the first time in…ages.
Harper is definitely dangerous, and not just to the business.
To my heart.
* * *
“You play poker?” I hear over my shoulder as I throw a couple of frozen pizzas into my cart. When I turn around, I find Jensen Grayson standing behind me, a friendly smile on his face.
“You don’t spend half your military career on foreign soil and not play poker,” I answer, offering my own smile and my hand for him to shake.
“Good to see you, Latham. I stopped by the hardware store for a few things a week or so back and your old man told me you were returning to take over. He seemed pretty excit
ed to have you back.”
“I’m pretty excited to be back. Believe it or not, I was starting to miss this crazy town,” I confess.
“Crazy is right. And speaking of crazy, I heard you had some issues earlier today with pink glitter,” Jensen says, a wide smile on his face.
“You understand what I’m dealing with here, right? She’s certifiable.”
Harper’s younger brother laughs. “Oh, definitely, and for some reason, she has her eyes set on you.”
“Goodie,” I grumble. “How long do you think before she gets bored and bugs someone else?”
“Well, let’s see,” Jensen says, glancing up and acting like he’s counting. “Never?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “That sounds about right.”
“Anyway, all I have is a poker peace offering. Tomorrow night, seven at my house. Beer, some food, and best of all, we can take Samuel’s money,” he adds, slapping his hands together and rubbing them anxiously.
“Count me in. Text me your address and what you want me to bring,” I say, pulling out my phone and adding him as a new contact.
“You can bring something snacky. I’m making Rhenn bring all the beer, since he’s the new guy.”
“New guy? What am I?”
“You’re not the new guy. You were born and raised here, just took a few years to gallivant around the world. He’s the man who’s practically shacking up with my little sister, therefore he brings the beer,” he states, clipping his phone back on his belt when my contact is all set.
“New guy, huh? Marissa getting married?”
“Not yet, but it’ll happen. I can feel it,” Jensen says as he grabs his own frozen pizza from the freezer. “His name is Rhenn, and he’s actually a pretty decent guy. I still plan on making him buy my beer for as long as I can finagle it though,” he adds with a laugh.
“Will she be there? I haven’t seen your little sister in probably a decade,” I ask, throwing a few bags of frozen vegetables and potatoes in my cart.
“Nah, it’s usually just guys. I invited my buddy, Garrett Levitt, so there will be five of us.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya, Latham,” he says, turning and heading the opposite direction.
