Cassia Murphy's quiet laugh spills out around us. "Do you want me to send Cord to deal with him?" she asks.
I glance at her husband, briefly considering it. He has muscles for days, and he wrestles bulls for a living. I bet he can take one real estate demon in a suit. And then I sigh. "No, thanks. I'll deal with him."
"Cool. See you tomorrow." Jazz blows me a kiss, linking her arms through Loralei and Olive's to practically haul them away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Like there's anything you wouldn't do," I grumble.
"Exactly. Have fun!" she says with a wicked cackle.
Ugh. I need a new best friend. Mine is evil.
Cassia and Cord trail after them a little more slowly, his arm around her waist. They look cute together, not at all like they fit. Maybe that's why they do. They're polar opposites.
As Lincoln closes the distance between us, I seriously contemplate ducking back into the store and locking the door. But I decide not to do it, mostly because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I prefer being the one who sent him running for the hills, thank you very much. Besides, whatever he came to say can't be worse than what he already said, right? Right.
I stand my ground, waiting for him to reach me.
"No need to bribe anyone into chasing me off this time. I come in peace," he says, waving a white pocket square like it's a flag.
I roll my eyes, biting my lip to fight the smile trying to form. I do not need to soften right now. He's the enemy, even if he is one not above resorting to humor.
"They could have taken you," I say. "It's a pity you didn't stick around."
"Are you kidding me?" He quirks a brow at me, a smile tugging at his lips. "I know when I'm beaten, sweetness. Two hundred intoxicated women eyeing me like I'm the key to their next shopping spree is fucking terrifying."
I laugh despite myself. "They wouldn't have hurt you. Much. Just played with you a little."
"Says you. They were ready to fuck me up on your command."
"And yet, you're still here."
"I'm persistent."
"That's one word for it. What do you want now?" I ask.
"To talk," he murmurs, his voice whispering across my skin like a kiss as he tucks the pocket square away. "I'm not here to give you high blood pressure."
"Too late for that."
"You usually have that many people show up for readings?" he asks, leaning against the side of the building with his arms crossed.
"Depends on the author."
"Your store is popular."
"Romance is the best-selling genre in the United States. It brings in over a billion dollars in revenue every year. At any given time, the bestseller lists are stacked with books written by and for women. And yet, most stores don't cater to romance or women. The genre is still seen as the redheaded stepchild of the book world. Would you like to know why?" I ask and then wait for him to nod. "Because the industry is still dominated by men who think their opinions and books are superior to those written and read by women. So yes, my store does well. It's probably oneof the few places in Santa Maria where women are allowed to like exactly what they like without being judged for it."
"Men are idiots."
"Sometimes." I cock my head to the side. "Some actually support us. But I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that."
"You'd be surprised."
I snort, not sure I believe him.
"I mean it, Lilah. Despite your opinion of me, I'm not the devil."
"No, you're just trying to run me out of business to build god only knows what," I say. "And you'll win because men like you always win, right?"
