to get lost in magical romance, fantasies, paranormal, realms, shifters; whatever it is, I want to read it.
“Liar,” Andrew teases, smirking.
Yeah, he knows how much I want to hold this copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’ in my hands, and he loves to watch me squirm for it.
“Can I just—”
“No.”
“Just one time—”
“No.” He chuckles at our conversation that happens at least twice every day.
One day I’ll break him. One day.
Until then, I have to keep my hands to myself. I sigh dramatically and fall onto the black velvet chair nestled in the nook next to the window. I glance outside the window and place my chin in my hand, watching the empty street. It’s early morning and no stores are open yet, including ours. Well, the exception is the coffee cart at the corner, but everyone needs to start their day off right.
Coffee is the nectar of life, and anyone who disagrees with me must only drink tea.
Yuck.
Tea is good when you need something warm to drink before going to bed.
But the thought of a hot caramel latte with whip cream and a dash of cinnamon has my taste buds coming to life. The watch on my wrist reads 7:30 in the morning. I have another half hour before the store opens, and I’ve done all the work needed before we unlock the door to start the day.
“Hey, Andrew? Do you want coffee? I’m going to run down to the coffee cart.”
“Sure, I’ll take it black.”
Black? Who would want to miss out on the yummy number of flavors that creamers offer? I’ll never understand.
As I push off from the couch, the soft material rubbing against my fingers causes me to sigh. I want to curl up on my own couch with a blanket and a spicy romance novel that reminds me that love is possible. Then, I want to fall asleep and dream of my one true love.
Yeah, like that will ever happen.
Maybe I read too many books…
Now, that’s just crazy talk.
I skip down the aisle between mystery and suspense and head toward the back room to grab my purse and cardigan. Vegas might be hot, but when cooler weather starts to come around, the mornings are chilly. I slide my arms through the dark blue cardigan and wrap the strap of my purse over my shoulder, then peek inside where I see the cash folded up in one of the side pockets.
I haven’t seen the man who tossed forty dollars at me in a few weeks. He overpaid for the book he grabbed by twelve dollars. He never came back for his change. He was interesting and handsome.
He had long hair, which isn’t my type of thing on a man usually, but he made it work. He was mysterious, tall, broad, and wore a leather cut. I only know what they are because of all of the romance books I read. He was astonishingly quiet for a man who was so good-looking, and there was no reason why he couldn’t have all the confidence in the world.
I have no way of figuring out how to get his change to him, but I don’t have it in me to spend it. It isn’t right.
“Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t open the store without me!” I say, skipping down the aisle toward the door. I run my fingers over the spines of the books as I go.
“Like I’d want to!” he shouts after me.
I give him a parting smile and unlock the golden knob, then turn the handle. The door chimes when I push against the antique wood with my hip. I lock it behind me, so a customer doesn’t come in before we’re open and shiver when the cold air smacks me in the face.
“And this is why I live in the freaking desert because I can’t stand the cold weather,” I mumble to myself, tightening my cardigan around my waist before I brave the first step onto the sidewalk. I’d hate living in the snow. I hate being cold. It’s why I always have a cardigan on or a blanket draped around my waist.
The loud rumble of motorcycles fills the air and that has me stepping out onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of my feet tingle from the reverberations traveling through the ground. I hold my breath when I see three bikes pulling up next to the coffee cart I’m about to walk toward. They are wearing the same cuts as the man I met in the bookstore a few weeks