Her lips part, her eyes shimmering with that fire I’ll never get tired of. “You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m working,” she whispers, pressing her hand over her chest.
“Sure, I can,” I smirk, leaning closer until my hat brim almost bumps her forehead. “I’ll say it every day until you believe it deep down in those stubborn bones of yours. I love you, baby.”
She narrows her eyes, trying not to smile, but she’s glowing, and I know it. “You’re so sweet.”
“And you’re my whole fucking world.”
She groans, throwing her head back. “Ugh, you’re going to make me cry in front of the books.”
I reach across the counter to pull her into me, kissing her hard. She’s my wife, my chaos, my sunshine, and my storm.
I’ll love her loudly every day of my life.
Afternoon drifts by, sunlight shifting across the hardwood floors, dust motes catching in the beams. Catalina moves through the aisles, adjusting a display, restacking a tower of fantasy novels, chatting with some girl about the newest dark romance release.
I don’t move from my chair by the counter; I’m content just watching her.
Her dress sways around her thighs as she climbs the little step stool to reach the top shelf. She huffs when the bow in her hair slips sideways, mumbling something under her breath in Spanish, then straightens it again with a dramatic sigh.
I grin, sipping my coffee. She has no idea how fuckin’ gorgeous she looks when she’s in her element.
A couple of customers trickle in and out. I keep an eye on them, of course, but my gaze always finds its way back to her, my wife.
Every once in a while, she glances my way, catches me staring, and makes a face. “You’re supposed to be reading,” she teases, arms crossed.
“I am,” I mutter, flipping a page in the book that’s been sitting open in my lap for an hour.
“You’re not even looking at it.”
“Book’s not as interestin’ as you.”
She groans, shaking her head, but her lips curve anyway, and she disappears into the stacks again, humming under her breath.
The shop is nearly empty as Catalina flips the “Closed” sign with a flourish, locks the door, and sighs.
I stand, stretching, watching her move around the counter as she counts the till and scribbles something in her ledger. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I swear I’ve never seen anything prettier.
“You gonna stare at me all night, cowboy?” she teases without looking up.
“Depends,” I say, leaning against the counter. “You gonna give me somethin’ better to do?”
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Help me put the romance table back in order, and maybe I’ll let you carry my bag.”
“Big honor,” I deadpan, earning myself a playful shove when she comes around the counter with her tote.
We move through the store together.
She fusses over stacks of books, and I trail behind, grabbing the heavier ones when she points. Every time our hands brush, she glances up at me like it still surprises her that I’m here, that I’m hers. And every damn time, my chest squeezes tight.
When the last light is off, she stands in the doorway, locking it behind us. The streetlamps flicker on outside, casting her in a soft glow.
She turns to me, smug grin in place.
“Well, Mr. Hayes,” she says, looping her arm through mine, “did you enjoy supervising my bookstore shift as much as you enjoy supervising my bathroom renovations?”
“Hell yes,” I mutter, kissing her temple. “You’re somethin’ to watch, darlin’.”
She rolls her eyes but squeezes my arm, leaning into me as we start toward the truck. “You’re hopeless.”
