by Olivia Hayle
“Yeah.” Her cheeks color beautifully. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I’ll be dead of shock before that happens.” I reach for the towel, drying off her clean bowl. “Tell me more about your sister.”
“She often has new boyfriends. They’re all nice, but they filter in and out, you know. And she’s just like our mother—every new hobby has to be pursued. Her current boyfriend likes cars, so she’s suddenly become a car maniac. Goes to shows out of town all the time.”
“And you babysit Timmy.”
She nods. “My mom and I split it.”
Her nephew. Her family. The bookstore. Everything she does, it seems to be for other people, or for a purpose. For Karli and Timmy.
I press a kiss to her neck and her eyes flutter closed. “How’s your writing going?”
“Mmm. Good.” Her hand grips mine, guiding it to her waist. “Much better than it has in a long while, actually.”
“Inspired by me?”
Her laughter is soft. “Maybe.”
“I’m flattered.” I kiss my way up to her ear. “Look at us being civil. Isn’t it nice when we have a truce?”
She wiggles against me, her butt round and soft and enticing. “Yes,” she says. “But don’t worry. I’m being nice to you because I know we’ll win.”
“Oh, you will?”
“Yes. We have more customers daily. Sales are increasing. Our accountant basically confirmed it, you know.”
I tip her head back, her neck soft and fragile under my hand. She sighs as my lips trail up and down. “Good,” I say, my hand running down to the hem of her shirt. Her thigh is silky-smooth.
“Good? I thought you wanted to win.”
“Mmm, I do. But the next best thing is you winning.”
Her smile is massive as she turns in my arms, backing me against the kitchen counter. Beneath my button-up, I know for a fact she’s only wearing panties.
“Charmer.”
“Another compliment?”
“Don’t get spoiled.”
I lift her up onto the kitchen island, her surprised laughter raining down on me. “Spoiled, me? Never.”
She opens her legs so I can fit between them, my hands resting on her hips. “Was that the first time you’ve dried a dish in your own kitchen?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Is that another strike against me?”
“Maybe,” she echoes, running a hand up my arms. “The swim team, huh?”
“You remembered.”
“Of course. Do you still swim? You look like you do.”
“Every morning,” I say.
She wraps her hands around my neck. “Except today.”
“Except today,” I agree. “I had better things to do.”
I lean in and kiss her, and she kisses me back, warm and sweet. Her hands find their way into my hair, tugging in that way that sends shivers racing down my back. Before long my hands move of their own accord and pull at the buttons of her shirt.
She laughs against my lips. “So eager,” she murmurs, her laughter turning into a gasp when I pinch one of her nipples. After she’d told me none of her previous lovers had given them enough attention, I’d made sure to redouble mine.
Her hands tug off my T-shirt. My tongue finds hers. It’s a dance we’ve done nearly a dozen times now, and still, every time leaves me hard and aching. She’s irresistible.
“Sorry for staying the night,” she murmurs. “I fell asleep last night after we… well.” She breaks off, biting her lip, and I grin at her. We’d tried her bathtub fantasy in my master bath, the tub large enough for me to fuck her underwater. She’d been slick like oil after the first two orgasms. The memory, combined with her naked and ready before me, makes it hard to think.
“Do I look like I’m complaining?”
She grins, shrugging off her shirt. “No.”
I slide her panties to the side and find her warm and wet. “Yes,” I murmur. “You’re always ready for me.”
She presses eager lips against mine, scooting to the edge of the kitchen island. “Like this?”
“Fuck yes.” I tug off her underwear. In broad daylight she’s gorgeous, pink and sweet and slick. She pulls at the tie of my slacks, pushing them, her movements jerky.
“This casual thing is getting complicated, huh?”
I can only agree. When this began, I had no plans to send her gifts, not to mention hang out with her nephew. Maybe we should talk about that. Set new ground rules.
But then again, she’s beautiful and naked in front of me and her hands are stroking and then I’m spreading her legs wide. “That’s fine,” I say, my hands running up her inner thighs. “Completely fine. Still casual.”
Skye nods, a breathy moan escaping her when I run the head of my hardness along her. “It’s casual because we say it’s casual,” she says.
“Exactly. You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”
Her chest is heaving. “No, don’t worry. I still hate you.”
“Good,” I say, pushing forward. “We’re good.”
That’s a lie, because she’s fucking fantastic. I bury myself inside, and she grips me back, hot and slick and tight. I should tell her that but words refuse to form. My body is moving on instinct, fucking her on the kitchen island, both of us watching where we join.
It’s over almost as soon as it began. My hand is circling, moving over her clit the way I know she likes, both of us exploding. It’s her moans that bring me over the edge, soft and breathless and entirely real.
“Fucking hell.”
Skye lies back on the kitchen island, her body limp. Her breasts rise and fall with her heavy breathing. “You could be the worst person in the world,” she says faintly, “and I’d still come back for more of that.”
My hands tighten on her hips. “So I’m not the worst person in the world. It’s a small upgrade, but I’ll take it.”
She smiles up at the ceiling. “So many compliments today. You really are fucking the good sense right out of me.”
“I aim to please.” Wincing slightly, I pull out of her heat. “Damn. We didn’t use a condom.”
She rises on her elbows. “I’m on the pill.”
“I have regular health checkups,” I say. “I’d be happy to give you a copy of my latest clean bill.”
She blinks at me. “Wow.”
“What?”
“That just sounds very experienced. I got checked last September,” she says, that beautiful blush spreading over her cheeks again. “Haven’t had sex without a condom since.”
Her blush makes me think she hasn’t had sex with one since then either. Something in my chest constricts, and I pull her up into sitting, kissing her again. “Then we’re good.”
She kisses me back. “I’m glad I spent the night when this is what I wake up to.”
“Me too.”
Her hand slips into mine, and then she’s pulling me toward my master bathroom again, a glint in her eyes. “Come on. We need to shower.”
“Do we?”
“Yes,” she says, and then I’m lifting her up, her naked body warm against mine. It’s one of the longest showers I’ve ever taken.
Skye leaves early afternoon. Her hair is half-dried and braided down her back, her cheeks flushed with exertion. She kisses me in the hallway.
It’s a sweet kiss, her arms twined around my neck. “Bye,” she murmurs.
“Bye,” I murmur back, watching her as she retreats into the elevator, a smile on her lips as the doors shut.
When she’s gone from view, I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
This is getting out of control, slipping out of my grasp, a lot faster than I had anticipated. A dangerous suggestion had hovered on my tongue and I’d had to force it down. Stay for lunch. Spend the day with me.
What would we do? Read books? Watch TV? Go for a walk?
Casual, Porter. She wanted casual, and so did you. She still hates me—she says so regularly. The feeling isn’t exactly mut
ual, but I know we have a deadline. The only hope I have of continuing to see her, and having the best sex of my life, is for the bookstore to succeed.
Which means I have incentive to work against my own best business interests.
“Fucking hell,” I say, leaning my head against the wall. I’m thirty-four. I’ve had my share of relationships, both longer and shorter. Yet somehow, Skye Holland has gotten me to consider betraying my own ambition, the one thing that had always served as a guiding star in my life.
And damn it if that doesn’t scare me.
16
Skye
“Here you go,” I say. “And thank you. Your support means the world to us, truly.”
The teenager smiles at me, slipping one of our newly minted loyalty cards into his bag. “No, thank you. I’ve been looking for this series everywhere!”
“It’s a great one,” I say. “I read all of them when I was your age.”
He nods, tugging at his cap. With his dark hair and glasses, it’s easy to imagine Timmy like that a few years in the future. “I’m sure I’ll be back to get the rest,” he says. “Thanks!”
The bell attached to the front door jingles as he leaves and I’m left grinning like a fool. That was our millionth customer of the day.
A slight exaggeration, perhaps, but not by much. There’s definitely more traffic today than a normal day just a few weeks ago.
Whatever we’re doing is working.
I look around Between the Pages, at the familiar nooks and crannies. At Eleanor’s old armchair in the corner. I breathe in the scent of new books. “We’re doing it,” I tell the store, the armchair, myself. “We’re actually pulling it off!”
With less than two weeks until the deadline, Karli and I’ve had to make a pact to stop obsessing over the numbers or we’d be calling Chloe thrice daily for her latest calculations. Profitable means we have to be in the green. We can’t count on future sales; we can’t break even. We have to make more than we need to be allowed to stay.
As if my thoughts have conjured him, my number-one enemy calls. I glance around the bookstore to make sure it’s empty before I answer. “Hello,” I say, a stupid smile in my voice. “Are you taking a break from world domination to call me?”
Cole’s voice is dark and velvety. “Yes. Feel honored.”
“Oh, I do. Just to be in your presence is a blessing.”
He snorts. “If I thought you were being serious, I’d ask if you’d fallen and hit your head. Are you alone in the store today?”
“Yes, Karli has the day off today.”
“Perfect. Closing soon?”
“Yes, at six.” I’m curious now, craning my neck to look out at the curb. “Why? Are you coming by?”
“I could tell you, or I could show you.”
“Mhm,” I say. “Show don’t tell is one of the pillars of good storytelling, you know.”
“You’re the weirdest.”
“Well, at least I excel at something.”
His voice warms. “At many things. See you soon, Holland.”
He walks through the front door not ten minutes later. In a suit and without the tie, his standard look. It hasn’t stopped being impressive—nor has the way his thick hair falls over his forehead, or his smile, crooked and ironic.
“See?” he says. “I’ve learned my lesson. Call first to avoid run-ins with wayward family members and friends.”
I step around the counter. “Never too late for an old dog to learn new tricks, huh?”
He bends down to kiss me, his stubble chafing pleasantly against my chin. “I’m only seven years older than you, you know.”
“You had that information very handy.”
“Of course. I always need ammunition with you.” His hand skims my waist, long fingers trailing. “Lest I be accused of cradle-robbing, on top of my elitist and exploitative ways.”
His words are spoken lightly, but it brings a faint flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. He sees it—interest immediately flaring in his eyes. “What’s this? You only blush in the bedroom.”
That intensifies the blush, of course, and I turn away from him. “I’m just so harsh on you sometimes. I was wondering if I should apologize for that.”
Cole’s eyebrows shoot high. Then he laughs, the sound filling the bookstore completely. “Of course you are, and rightly so.”
I rub my neck. “I suppose. Just goes against my nature, you know?”
“Oh, I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re a good girl. I figured that out early.”
I frown at the lapels of his jacket. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He steps away from me, walking down the aisles. His voice reaches me easily. “Things have changed since I was here last. The sale is nearly half the store!”
“We took your advice.”
“Are you flying through your inventory?”
I follow him. “Maybe not flying. Hurrying?”
“Good enough,” he says with a smile, stopping dead in front of the bookheart, positioned in the shelf. “I haven’t seen it in real life yet.”
I walk around to the other side, and we look at each other through the opening. Framed by a heart, he looks like he did on the kiss cam at the baseball game. My smile is soft. “It’s good, right?”
“Yes.” He rubs his jaw, leaning in to inspect it. “I was skeptical at first, but I can see how this is a draw. Especially for online marketing.”
“Our Instagram profile is growing.”
“So I’ve seen, yes.” He glances toward the front door and then back to me. Something in his smile deepens, stretches wide, humor and challenge both hidden within. “Before you close, I want a shot at the dartboard.”
“You want to shoot arrows at your own logo?”
“Yes,” he says. “There are days when I’m more tired of it than you can possibly know.”
I’m chuckling as I lead him into the storage room, leaving the curtain open to the main bookstore. “You’re very welcome to try.”
Cole steps into the small space, looking far too much for the cramped storage room by the staircase, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud at the image.
He pulls out the darts stuck to the board. “Oh, look at this poor logo. It’s skewered.”
“Kind of the point.”
He steps back, rolling the darts around in his open palm. “Ah. The angle isn’t very good.”
“You’re making excuses?”
He holds up his hands, lips curling. “I take it back.”
I grin, glancing back toward the front door. No customers. “Come on, then.”
He throws the first dart and it reverberates as it hits the board, just half an inch from the logo’s center. The next two are thrown in quick succession, hitting dead center both times.
“There,” he says, satisfaction in his voice. “That fucking thing cost me 50k to commission.”
What? “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was. Ready for some more great business advice? Find a cheaper graphic artist and ignore your business partner’s protests.”
I shove him lightly, like I’m twelve and don’t know how to flirt. My smile feels etched on my lips. “I’ll remember that for when I start a multi-million-dollar firm.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Look, just make sure you get as much of your inventory out as possible on sale, all right? All you need to show is that you’re profitable. Your profit margin can be razor-thin—it just needs to be there.”
“What’s this? You’re helping your competitor?”
He shrugs, the movement pulling me closer against his body. “I’m feeling generous.”
“Do you want us to succeed?” My words are a bit breathless, even to my own ears.
“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want you to hate me indefinitely.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
Cole sees it
on my face, because he snorts and steers me back to the counter. “You, speechless. Now I’ve really seen it all. Come on, close up shop. I’ll throw some more arrows while I wait.”
“All right.” I clear my throat. “Would you like to come to mine afterwards?”
His eyes glitter in response. “I very much appreciate the offer, but no. I have a surprise planned.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. But I’m going to follow your instructions to show and not tell.”
“What? You can’t hint at a surprise and then say nothing more! We’re going somewhere?”
His smile is wide now, the picture of a man in complete control and loving it. “I like you frazzled.”
“You know my mind is going a mile a minute right now.”
He kisses my temple. “I know. You’re just going to have to try to keep up.”
“Cole!”
He doesn’t answer, laughing as he ducks back into the storage room. I grumble to myself as I close up the register, but it’s with a smile. The man is impossible. Larger than life. Absurd. The whole thing between us is absurd. A casual relationship that is feeling less and less casual by the day.
Cole helps me to turn off the lights and lock up. His hand is on the low of my back when we finally leave, Between the Pages dark and safe behind us.
“I still don’t like the fact that you work alone in the evenings.”
I roll my eyes. “We close at six, some days seven at the latest. It’s not exactly midnight. Besides, we have cameras installed.”
“They only help after an incident, not before.”
“There’s no money to hire anyone else. Besides, there are only two weeks left until we know if we’ll even stay open.” My words hang in the air between us, a truth we’ve both been avoiding. I force some cheerfulness into my voice. “We’re not discussing that. Tell me what we’re doing instead.”
He opens the car door for me, the crooked smile on his lips. He knows I chose to sidestep the landmine of a subject. “You might say no. It’d be completely fine if you did. I’d understand. It’s a bit… adventurous.”
Is he suggesting what I think he’s suggesting?
I narrow my eyes at him, and he gazes serenely back at me. “I’m open to trying most… things, you know. But now you’re making me imagine the worst.” I glance toward Charles in the driver’s seat before lowering my voice. “Can we discuss this later?”
