“No, of course not.” I let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not sure what it is.”
“I think I do, baby.”
There it went again. That shivery feeling sliding up my legs at the endearment. “What?” I managed to choke out.
He massaged my legs and my stomach. “I think you want to belong and be needed. And you do. You belong to me. Every part of you. The good and bad Harlan. The drunk and sober Harlan. The old and new Harlan. I’ve heard all your secrets, good and bad, sad and happy, and still want you. Still love you. Even more because of how you worked so hard to get to this place.”
An ache rose in my chest, and I shifted to burrow in closer as he wrapped his arms around me. I’d never liked cuddling and preferred my own bed. Alone. But that was before Cort. Now I wasn’t sure I could sleep without him.
“I do need you. I’ve never felt accepted or wanted for me. The one time I let Mickey see me, I got shot down.”
“And that bastard hurt you bad enough to fuck you up for the rest of your life.”
I’d had enough of reminiscing. The past was where it belonged, and I was ready to start again. If I got the chance. “Not the rest of it. A portion of it. I’m thinking…” I kissed his chest. “We can start on the second half right now, maybe. As long as we’re awake, it shouldn’t be a total loss.” His rapidly thickening dick swelled beneath my fingers, and I smiled.
Cort jumped off the sofa and hoisted me over his shoulder. My dick instantly went hard, and I wriggled against him. “Giddy up, cowboy.” I squeezed his muscular butt. “Take me to bed and ride me hard.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”
One month later,I didn’t think of the bookstore as my job. It was more like a second home for Cort and me. Race had gone through his surgery, but it was taking him much longer to recover than he initially thought.
“Sit down.” I pointed to the chair and glared at Race, who walked in stiffly. “Forcing recovery isn’t going to help. Don’t be stupid.”
“Damn. Give someone a job, and they think they own the place.” Despite his pallor, his lips twitched.
I grinned at Race and handed him a cup of coffee. “It’s good to see you down here, but you shouldn’t rush yourself.”
Race’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “I’m going crazy up there, lying in bed doing nothing. I have worse trouble sleeping now than before. I can’t get myself comfortable. My first follow-up appointment with the doctor is this afternoon, so we’ll see how I’m healing.” Morose, he blew on the surface of the hot coffee, then took a sip before continuing. “I have a bad feeling.”
“About what?” Cort joined us at the desk, having finished the setup for the reading later that evening. With Race’s permission, we’d begun inviting local authors to promote their books as a way to engage the community more. Cort and I wanted to talk to Race about starting the literacy program we’d been brainstorming about in the evenings at home.
“That my doctor is going to tell me the surgery didn’t work.” He set the cup on the desk. Deep lines that hadn’t been there a month ago now scored his face, and dark circles rimmed his eyes.
“It was major surgery. You need to give it time.” Giving his shoulder a squeeze, I tried to be reassuring but couldn’t help feeling concern. “You don’t feel any better at all?”
“No.” He pressed his hand to his side. “It still feels like a hot knife is jabbing me. But I’m sick of talking about it, so I’m going to focus on something more positive, like how great the store is doing.”
A fierce sense of pride and accomplishment swept through me, and Cort and I shared a smile. Over the past month we’d subtly begun adding merchandise alongside the books, so people who were into planners and journaling now had a section dedicated to them, complete with several small desks where they could work with their pens, stickers, and washi tape, all of which we now sold.
“Thanks. I think the little extras are helping. Expanding from books to book-related merchandise is also helpful.”
“It is.” Race nodded with approval. “I wasn’t sure if you were overextending the reach of the store, but it’s really helped the bottom line.”
“Because the wholesale price is low, so we can make money even on a small markup. And doing weekly sales on the different merchandise, plus pairing them, helps sales. I’m also thinking you might want to bring in tote bags and mugs and calendars.”
Both Cort and Race stared at me.
“What? Did I say something wrong? I know you both are more knowledgeable about the business, so if I’m out of line, tell me.”
“Are you sure you’re really Harlan?” A twinkle lit Cort’s eyes.
“What?” Pretending outrage, I huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Not joining in the banter, Race tapped his face with his finger and continued to study the store. “I’d say you are on to something, Harlan. For years I resisted doing what you suggested, but maybe you’re right.”
Excited by the approval, I pushed ahead. “I’ve been reading the trade magazines about growing trends and moving forward. It isn’t about driving people away from books. Diversifying is the wave of the future. People like one-stop shopping; we’ve seen that in the online world. So what we need to figure out is once we get them in the store, how to keep them. That’s why the in-store cafés do so well. Branching out to readings and planners is only the beginning.”
“At least now I know what you’re doin’ at night when I’m dancing at Man Up.”
