I don’t really think it’s mine either, but it’s something I can do for her, so I make the trip.
I’ve been in Magnolia Springs for about two months—ever since my mom got sick. I was working in the city and would come visit her on the weekends, but when her health started to decline I knew I needed to be closer. Thankfully my job as an electrician allows me to work wherever I want. I own a big company I built from the ground up and they still operate in the city without me on site. I check in and add projects, but mostly it runs on its own. I’ve taken a couple of odd jobs here in Magnolia Springs to keep busy. Otherwise my mom will keep trying to marry me off to any female who walks in the door. This includes the ladies from her senior center knitting group, Knit Happens.
I tug my Carhartt jacket closer to me as I jump out of my truck. My work boots land in a river of water and I grunt as I slam my door closed. I look around and see the light just down the sidewalk for the small bookstore.
Mom told me last night the ladies in Knit Happens were scandalized by the all-romance shop that popped up last month. As soon as the door closed on the last visitor, my mom made me look up the address and then proceeded to give me a list of books to grab. I stuffed it in my coat pocket, and as I get closer to the store I reach in to make sure it’s still there.
I push through the door and a bell chimes above it. The warmth and the smell of coffee hits me first and I'm surprised how nice it feels. It’s probably just because it’s so cold and rainy out, but if I have to be here, at least it smells good.
I push my hood back and see a few people milling around. There’s someone at a table with a laptop and a couple of people drinking coffee on a loveseat near the painted window. I see two people at the end of an aisle, but all I can make out is a thin guy and part of the woman he’s blocking from my view. There’s another woman in the back with a young child who is picking out books, and I glance back at the door to make sure I’ve got the right place.
They sell kids’ books here too? Weird.
Taking the list out of my pocket, I glance at it for the first time and inwardly groan. These can’t be real names of actual books she wants. I sigh and run a hand over my face and beard. Drops of water from the rain run off and fall to the floor, and I close my eyes as I remind myself my mother is sick and she doesn’t ask for much.
I look around and don’t see anyone who can help me locate the books, and I’m honestly not sure I’d ask for it at this point. There are small baskets at the end of each aisle and above them are labels with different genres. I realize that’s how the books are categorized, so I grab a basket and walk across the room. The first shelf is labeled BDSM and I try not to cringe as I make my way slowly down the rows of books.
To my shock and horror the book my mother requested is sitting there in all its glossy glory and I grab it up.
It’s not that I’m against this kind of stuff, it’s just thinking of my mom being into it is more than I can take. Hell, I might actually like bending a big round ass over my thigh and watching it turn pink. I’m big myself, so I’d need a solid woman to play with, and damn if the thought doesn’t get me a little warm.
“Fuck.” I shake every part of that fantasy away as I toss the book in my basket and go back to the list.
There’s another on this aisle she wants and I find that before moving to the historicals. Once there I have a hard time finding the right one, and I have to get down on one knee to look at the bottom shelf.
When I do I see the man and woman I noticed when I first walked in are in the aisle across from me. I can only