She saunters over and I watch Sawyer’s eyes grow wide as a blush blooms over his cheeks. He mutters something about going over to look at lamps and hurries off, not even giving me a backward glance.
What was that about? Is he scared of her because she used some kind of magic mojo to stop that guy from yelling at her? She doesn’t look scary; she looks like a beautiful woman with a pretty smile and an inviting aura.
Sawyer is so weird.
“Hey, I’m Blossom,” the woman says as she stops in front of me. She sticks out her hand and I take it.
“Hi. Maverick. Me.” I point to myself like a weirdo. “That’s to say, I’m Maverick. My name is.”Stop talking, Mav.“I really love that name, Blossom. It’s pretty. And fitting.” I realize what I said,and my cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I’m not hitting on you. I mean, you’re really pretty, like your name. No, sorry. No, no, youarelovely really, but…I…I’m uh…”
She looks amused, a slow smile spreading across her face at how I’m fumbling over my words. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I string a sentence together? And I called Sawyer weird.
“I’m gay!” I shout, making some shoppers look at me like I don’t have a lick of sense, airing my sexuality for all to hear. I slap a hand on my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. “That was loud for no reason.”
Her laughter sounds like wind chimes as she throws her head back in amusement. “It’s okay, Maverick. I’ve been known to make men nervous, no matter their sexual orientation. My nana called it charisma, but I think the kids call it aura these days.”
“Whatever it is, you have it in spades.” My damn mouth is running away from me. “I’m sorry again. I don’t usually babble.” I pause. “Or not make any sense when I talk.” I sigh and shake my head. Then I point to the reason I’m here. “Are those couches still for sale? I saw that guy a few minutes ago…”
“They are. And he won’t be back.” There’s an edge to her tone that makes me shrink back slightly, but she turns a bright smile on me, and I’m sucked back into her web. “Want to have a closer look?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
We walk over to the couches, and she stands behind the love seat, running her hand over the back like she’s one of the women from The Price is Right. “I’ve had them for a few years, but it’s time for me to upgrade. But they’re not overly used. They were in my basement living room and I only used it when I did laundry.”
Basement living room? Sheesh. I can’t even imagine having more than one area where I watched TV and played my video games. Even a man cave seems pretty useless to me.
“How much? I only have—” The wind blows again and my head whips toward the scent. My eyes snag on a mustard yellow recliner that’s pretty beat up but…I fucking want that recliner. It’s so beautiful. And it speaks to me, like it’s calling me to take it home and love on it.
Almost as if I’m drawn to it, my feet pull me in the direction of the piece of furniture. The closer I get, the more I see how much TLC it needs. The leather is cracked, there’s a piece of duct tape holding a part of it together, and there are scuff marks everywhere, but…this recliner is mine.
When I get within touching distance, that fragrant scent slams into me, and I sway. My dick hardens in a flash, sticking straight out in front of me. I lean on the backrest, trying to cover myself until the out-of-fucking-nowhere erection goes away, but being this close just makes it worse. It’s the fucking recliner that smells like coffee, man, books, and lust.
“Fuck, Jesus,” I groan as I breathe in the scent. Never have I smelled anything so fucking good. It’s driving me fucking crazy. My brain is scrambled and all I want to do is smell this recliner until I come.
What kind of fucking thought is that? I’m in fucking public! Who comes from smelling a recliner? A recliner I’m sure has been in Blossom’s garage since like…her grandparents gave it to her or something. There’s nothing sexy or stylish about this recliner…except there is.
Not only does it smell good, but it looks far more comfortable than the couch set I was just looking at. And even though it’s hot out, it’s cool to the touch, almost perfect body temperature. And I don’t know, I really like the way it looks. I’ve never thought of a recliner as beautiful, but fuck, this is one beautiful recliner.
“Enough, Cade,” Blossom says quietly and the smell fades, allowing my mind to clear enough for me to think. I raise my head to look at her, careful to keep my still hard dick hidden.Thankfully, it’s softening, but embarrassment creeps up my spine. I already shouted at Blossom earlier. If she saw the state I’m in, she’ll not only think I’m weird, but some kind of sexual deviant that likes to fuck yellow recliners.
I really almost dry humped a fucking recliner because it smelled good. Who does that?
“I’m so sorry about that,” I say, my voice sounding throaty and aroused. Christ, kill me now. “I was…”
“Drawn to the recliner?” she asks, a twinkle in her eyes. I nod glumly. “I take it you’re not interested in it, though? Since you want the couches?”
“No, I want both!” Another shout, like Blossom is across a football field, not standing three feet in front of me. “I’ll work on my volume control,” I tell her, my cheeks flaming. “I want both the set and this recliner. I only have about?—”
“Tell ya what,” she says, her eyes dancing with…something. Mischief? Happiness? “Give me what you have and we’ll call it square.”
“Really? For the couches and recliner?” She nods. “I only have…” I pull the cash from my pocket and count it. My heart plummets when I finish. “Two hundred and eighteen dollars.” That’s not enough to get a couch, loveseat, and a mustard yellow recliner that smells like heaven and makes me feel safe and wanted for some reason.
Blossom takes the cash from my hand and tucks it into her jeans pocket. “That’s good enough. Nice doing business with you, Maverick. Do you need help loading your purchases?”
I open and close my mouth a few times, not sure if this is some kind of joke or what. When I finally get my bearings, I ask, “Are you sure? The couch alone has to be worth more than what I paid for all three.”
She waves me off. “I’m sure. You seem honest. I have a good feeling about you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, a flush drifting back up my cheeks. “I am honest. It really is all the money I have on me. If I had more?—”
