by Franca Storm
“Stop!” I said, thrusting my hands into his chest and pushing him back.
He held up his hands angrily. “Happy to, darlin’.” He turned his back and started stomping away. “Welcome back,” he muttered over his shoulder.
Chapter 2
~Brad~
“Mom! Where do you want these last two?” I called out through the bookstore as I carried the last two boxes through the front door.
It was the first Wednesday of the month, which meant delivery day for The Avid Reader.
The assholes always showed up before the crack of dawn and just dumped the hefty boxes of books on the goddamn doorstep. Lazy fucks. It’d been that way ever since Mom had opened the bookstore a year ago. I’d tried to persuade her countless times to give me their number and let me sort it out, but she’d refused. She wanted to handle it without my help. She was stubborn and proud. I guess that’s where I got it from.
I’d held back on that issue, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to let my own mother cart in a shitload of boxes of books by herself. And so, I made sure I was always here this time of the month to take care of it for her. Each time she voiced her objections and each time I ignored her.
“Mom?” I repeated.
A mumble of words came from the far left corner in the Classics section, but I couldn’t make it out.
“You’re mumbling again.”
She stepped out of the stacks and approached me. She scanned the print on the two boxes I held in my arms. “Science Fiction section. Second floor. Far back.”
I nodded and headed on up the four steps leading up to the second floor. I passed by a seating area complete with oversized burgundy armchairs. The entire place was as cozy as that little area. She wanted people to feel comfortable, to enjoy the entire experience of being inside a bookstore, rather than just using it as a place to run a quick errand to pick up a book or two.
And it had worked. The store wasn’t due to open for another couple of hours at 8am, but when it was open to the public, it was always packed. I had never stepped inside to find it empty.
She’d done really well with the place.
And she deserved the success more than anyone.
She’d been through a lot. It had taken a long time for her to get back on her feet after all the shit with my dad. This last year, she’d finally managed it. She was finally smiling again. She was happy. She had the store. She was socializing with her friends. It was all good at long last.
I lowered the boxes to the floor. I was about to start opening them and putting the books away when I felt her hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”
“It’s no trouble, Mom.”
She fixed me with that stare of hers, the one that told me it was her way or the highway. I chuckled and stood back up, holding up my hands in surrender. “You’ve got it. I hear you.”
“That’s better,” she said, pulling me to her for a quick hug.
She flicked her long gray hair over her shoulder and started to brush down her floor-length skirt that had dust from the book boxes all over it.
“Where does it all come from?” she muttered.
“Come on. Let’s get a coffee, before it’s time to open,” I said, leading the way.
“Brad,” she called, stopping me in my tracks.
Oh fuck. My body tensed automatically. I knew that tone. And I knew what she was going to say.
My back to her, I shook my head. “Don’t, Mom.”
She laid her hand on my lower arm. It was as high as she could reach without stretching. She was a petite woman. I had over a foot and a half on her. People often found it odd, but I didn’t get my height from my mom. No, that was all Asshole.
“It’s time,” she told me. “I’m fine now. You’ve done enough.”
“Mom—”
“No, Brad. I’m serious. You need to live your life now. It’s time, sweetheart. That bar is not for you. I want you to go back to college.”
“Mom, I—”
My words caught in my throat as the bell chimed and someone walked on in.
My breath hitched as I saw that it was none other than Soph. What’s she doing here at 6am in the fucking morning? Unbelievable.
I turned to my mom. “Looks like you have a confused customer.”
She looked past me and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Soph. Oh, hell. I’d forgotten how she felt about her.
“Are you sure she’s not here to see you?”
I scoffed. “Believe me, she’s not.”
“Lover’s tiff?”
“Mom, lay off.”
She laughed and brushed past me to make her way down the steps towards Soph who was wandering around the first floor, her expressive blue eyes wide with wonder as she took in the store.
Shit. The look on her face did things to me. She was so excited, so full of life in that moment. It was what had been missing in her last night.
But, then again, Soph had always been in her element around books.
I watched her greet Mom with a long, drawn-out hug.
That was when I noticed she was dressed…differently. Like a city girl.
She was wearing a business suit—a black skirt and matching blazer. Both hugged her tight little body just right. Hot damn.
The rest was…off. Not like the Soph I remembered. Her calves were hidden beneath a pair of knee-high leather boots. The length of her skirt barely left any skin uncovered—it fell just above her knees. Even her white blouse was buttoned up right to her neck. Her soft golden hair was swept up into a high ponytail.
But even then, weirdly covered up, she still had the ability to wake my dick up from just one fucking glance. She looked like a sexy-as-fuck librarian. If only that skirt was hitched up a little higher…those buttons on her shirt undone. Stop it! Get a grip, asshole!
Christ. That woman did things to me. Even our brief conversation the other night had been a strenuous exercise in torture. I’d almost slipped when I’d gotten too close to her. If she hadn’t pushed me back and then pissed me off so much, I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done. She’d been home barely a couple of days and already I was struggling to control myself around her.
For a brief moment, I thought about sneaking out the back, so I wouldn’t have to deal with her. But I wasn’t a pussy. I was already dodging one woman that made me look like I was. But it was different with Crazy Claire. I was doing my best to avoid her husband finding out about me fucking his wife. The way she was going with her ridiculous obsession with me, it was fast becoming inevitable. I wasn’t scared of the asshole. It wasn’t that. Her husband was no threat to me. If it came down to it, I could take him down before he even threw a punch. But I couldn’t get into a fight. Not with anyone.
I had…control issues. Since that day with my dad…shit, not going there.
“Brad!” Mom’s call forced me from my thoughts. Thank Christ.
I looked down to see her waving me over.
I made my way down there. Soph looked up and caught my eye. “Soph,” I said, politely.
She gave me a curt head nod. Hmm…more than I’d expected from her after the other night.
“Sophie’s going to help me out here a few days a week. Isn’t that great?” Mom exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly.
Well, that was a shock and a half. I hadn’t seen that one coming.
I had no idea why. I looked at Soph standing there, dressed all business-like. My Mom was holding her resume in her hand. It seemed like a pretty easy deduction. I’d just been too distracted to notice the evidence staring me in the face.
“There’s no one outside of you who knows more about literature than Soph,” I said. “Seems like a perfect fit to me.”
Soph beamed at my compliment. Seeing her smile, because of me, warmed me in ways that I hadn’t felt in a long damn time.
Mom looked between us and I saw the suspicion there.
I was about to shut it down, before it could start,
but she beat me to it, saying to Soph, “Brad and I were gonna get coffee, but I have a few more things to finish up here first. Why don’t you two go together? Head back in a couple of hours when we’re open and I’ll give you a tour; show you how things work?”
Soph hesitated. But then she made the mistake of making direct eye contact with my Mom. She had that imploring gaze of hers locked and loaded at maximum power. Nobody could deny it.
And, sure enough, Soph murmured a weak and very awkward, “Uh…yeah. Sure.”
“Great!” Mom said, clapping her hands, either completely unaware of the tension in the fucking room, or not caring.
Fucking hell. As Soph headed for the door, I shook my head at my mom, before dragging my feet and reluctantly following after Soph.
***
We stepped out of the coffee shop a little while later.
I sipped at my black coffee, while Soph held her over-sugared and creamed coffee in her right hand and clutched my mom’s in her left.
She’d insisted on safeguarding it herself, saying something about wanting to make a good impression. I held back with pointing out that my mom already had a well-formed impression of her. She loved her. She had for years. I couldn’t count the number of conversations the two of them had had about this book and that when we were growing up. Whenever my dad wasn’t around, Soph would be there, talking with her. Never when my dad was there though. Soph had been terrified of him growing up. And she had good fucking instincts. He was a dangerous man. I wouldn’t have allowed her anywhere near him even if she hadn’t harbored such a dislike for him.
“Ollie never mentioned that your mom had opened a bookstore,” she said as we navigated our way over to a bench a few steps from the coffee house.
“You know Ollie and his tunnel vision.”
Ollie wasn’t the most perceptive guy. He just didn’t notice things. He was always stuck in his own head most of the time. Thinking about it now, it was a godsend, given what had gone down with me and his sister. If he’d been a little more aware of his surroundings and shit, he probably would’ve noticed. Especially, in the immediate aftermath. Soph wasn’t great about hiding how she felt and she’d been living in their house for a few days after we’d…been together…before she’d headed off back to college. The evidence had been right there under his nose and it’d worried the fuck out of me, thinking he was gonna find out. But I’d been freaked out for no good reason, because he’d been completely oblivious.
Soph turned to me then, looking at me directly for the first time since we’d left the bookstore.
“She seems much better now.” Her eyes sparkled with that familiar gentleness.
I nodded. “Yeah. She is. It took a while.”
“Is that why....”
“Why what?”
“Forget it.”
“When have you ever held your tongue when you’ve had something to say?” I challenged. What was going on with her? Why wasn’t she herself? Why was she holding back and so…hesitant and shy? What’s happened to her?
She looked uncomfortable as hell, but she finally said, “Is she why you didn’t go back to college? Why you stayed here?”
“Yeah.”
I looked away, thinking breaking eye contact would end it. I didn’t talk about it…what’d happened back then, so I wanted to shut it the hell down before it even really got started.
Her hand brushed my knuckles.
“I’m sorry, Brad.”
Hearing the softness in her voice, having her touch me…fuck…it was my kryptonite.
I adjusted my weight on the bench and smoothly pulled my hand away. Phew.
I brought my coffee cup to my lips and eyed her over the rim. She was fixing me with that imploring talk-to-me gaze of hers. There was no way I was gonna talk about my mom and all that shit. No fucking way. I wasn’t capable. Not yet. Probably never. Time to change the subject.
I looked her over and smirked. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, grinning at her.
“I know that look. What’s so funny? My outfit?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I found the whole thing hilarious. “You want a trench coat to go with it?”
“What does that mean?” she asked, looking down at herself. “What’s wrong with it?”
“You look like you just stepped out of a convent,” I said, reaching for her blouse. My fingers brushed the top button. “What’s this all about?” I laughed.
“Hey!” she protested, batting my hand away.
She placed the coffees on the ground and then reached for her blouse. I watched, mesmerized, as she started to undo the top button. Urgh. What the hell’s wrong with me?
“Better?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
I shook my head. “A couple more.”
She huffed, but took my advice anyway. Just like old times. She fanned out her collar and looked to me for my approval. “Now?”
“Much better. Now you’ve graduated from nun to naughty librarian,” I teased.
She slapped my arm. “Pervert!”
When it came to her, definitely. She had no fucking idea.
I lowered my coffee to the floor, safely away from her dangerous hands. She made an attempt to slap me again, but I caught her wrist mid-strike.
She gasped at the sudden contact. But, instead of trying to pull away, she just stared at me.
Jesus Christ. She isn’t making this easy on me. I couldn’t stop myself.
I leaned in closer. “Don’t look at me like that, darlin’.”
“Like what?” she breathed in a hoarse whisper. God. She was so fucking turned on. I could hear it in her voice, see it in her flushed cheeks and the intensity in her eyes.
And it was skyrocketing my arousal to the danger zone. The point of no return.
I tried not to breathe in too deeply, because the sweet smell of her was driving me crazy already. She always smelled so good, just like fresh-cut flowers.
I whispered in her ear and she trembled at the feel of my breath on her neck, “Like you want me to hike up your skirt, spread those sexy-as-sin thighs of yours and taste you right here in the middle of the high street.”
She pulled back, gasping. Her eyes were wide at my words.
“Would you call this time?” she rasped, her eyes on fire.
Shit. I wanted to give her what she wanted more than anything. What I wanted. But it was wrong for so many reasons, reasons she couldn’t even comprehend as she fired her fuck-me-right-the-hell-now look at me.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t reel her in like that.
She deserved better.
“No,” I forced myself to utter.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re such a coward.”
What. The. Fuck? “Coward?” I seethed.
She hastily grabbed the coffee cups off the floor and stood up in a rush. “Yeah. You heard me, Bradley.”
“You know I don’t do relationships. What did you expect? Hearts and flowers? That shit isn’t me.”
“That isn’t it and you know it.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Forget it.”
I grabbed her arm, stopping her attempted exit.
She glared at me fiercely. “Let go or I’ll pour this scalding hot coffee over your lap. See how your whorish, playboy dick likes that.”
Wow. Vicious. I released her and she ran off towards the bookstore.
“Shit,” I breathed, running my hands through my hair roughly.
Chapter 3
~Sophie~
Wrapping myself in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the hall to my old bedroom.
I’d arrived home a little over an hour ago. Working with Kate Marsh at the bookstore had been one of the best days I’d had in a long while. I was so grateful for the job. Sitting around the house with nothing to do was like torture to me. I always had to be doing something or it drove me crazy.
>
My brother wasn’t home. He’d called and said he was working late on a job. Something about a roof. I didn’t really understand any of that. He worked in construction. He owned Clinton Construction. He’d taken over the family business after our parents had died several years ago.
I was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be home until much later. We hadn’t had a chance to catch up and I always enjoyed spending time with my brother. We usually fell into old habits and ended up doing hours-long video game marathons and binge-watching action movies. It was comforting. Just the kind of thing I craved right now.
It was good to be home. I felt…safe. Finally.
It was dark in the room and I crossed to my left bedside table and flipped on the little lamp there. It didn’t offer much light at all. It looked like the bulb was almost burned out. But it was enough to see what I was doing, so I left it. I didn’t want the main light on. It was too bright and I was in the mood to relax tonight, so soft lighting was my preference.
I walked to the chest of drawers in the corner to grab some pajamas. Then I figured I’d get some snacks from downstairs and pig out and watch a couple of movies by myself.
My room was exactly as I’d left it. Ollie hadn’t changed a thing.
My over-stuffed bookcases lined one wall. My sleigh bed sat prominently in the center of the room. I smiled as I scanned the pictures stuck to the heart-shaped mirror on my dresser. I’d taken most of them during high school. They held so many memories. I laughed as I caught sight of one of my best friend, Tiffany Baxter. She’d kill me if I showed anyone that one. She was wearing braces, some God-awful neon pink frilly dress and had to be about twelve. Definitely, her awkward phase.
The front door slammed shut downstairs suddenly, startling me.
Ollie must have finished work early after all.
I opened my middle drawer and pulled out a matching set of baby-blue silk pajamas.
