I try ignoring them. Scanning the colorful spines, I select an eclectic mix: a self-help book on forgiveness, a science book on gathering moss (it’s a thing), and an erudite best-seller that’ll probably make me sleep.
So I aim for the romance aisle next and hear more girly giggles.
“He’s checking out the M/M hockey romance,” a voice whispers. “Oh my god, I’m in lust.”
“Why?” A feminine voice counters, “That means he’s into men, and we don’t stand a chance.”
“Girl”—she claps back—“with that ink and swole ass; everyone deserves a chance with him.”
When I round the corner to the lone, long aisle of romance books, I spot their attraction.
Loch, at the end cap, his muscles popping out of an Army-green T-shirt and camo pants, is checking out the staff’s romance picks, making two local girls drench their panties over his huge package and hot selection.
ButIswoon when he senses me, I swear.
Smiling up from his shameless cover, he shows off his book. “Babygirl, what do you think?”
Is he out of line calling me that?
Not when I know he’s doing it for his horny admirers, making it clear he’s claimed.
They slice their eyes at me while I scooch past them, “Excuse me, ladies. Gotta help my man out with his inked ass and M/M romance. And yes, bi is even hotter IRL than on the page.”
They skitter away as I close the distance, laughing, “You’re causing quite a cunty kerfuffle in the romance aisle.”
He shrugs, grinning. “Gotta have my beach reads.” He jerks his chin at my stack. “Whatchu bringing to Greece?”
Blushing, I show him my stack. The one on forgiveness puts me in my feels. I point to his, and he reveals more than their steamy covers.
“I get ones I think Jace will like. I go for alphas, he’s into aliens, our brothers give us shit for our romance books, but they’re the fools. It’s like earning a PhD in pussy.” He splutters. “I… I mean, those are Delphine’s words, not mine. I don’t want to?—”
“It’s okay.” I hug my stack. “Delphine’s the one, isn’t she? Your first who taught you so much?”
I’ve had months to piece things together. And the pieces aren’t sharp anymore. They don’t cut. They’re falling into place.
But his handsome face bends, worried like he’s hurting me again. “Yes, she was. But I didn’t love her. I swear. Not like?—”
“Loch, it’s okay.I’mokay.” I exhale, meaning it and not crying anymore. In fact, dammit, I want to smile, to laugh. So I grab the nearest book off the romance shelf. Drawn to a dark cover with a hot man on the front, I shove it into hishands, teasing, “Here. Think you and Jace can handle reading this heat on the beach?”
Proudly, he flips it over, scanning the blurb. “His daughter’s new nanny? Fuck yeah, I’m in. And Jace is always hot for a Harley.”
I laugh. He laughs. It’s contagious, and what I need after months of pain, making me grip my books so tight because, “Oh shit…”
He smirks. “You gotta pee, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Yes, I do. I shove my stack in his full hands and dash to the ladies’ room.
By the time I emerge, Loch’s holding our bought books in a canvas tote and two iced pumpkin-spiced lattes from the bookstore’s coffee counter.
Goddamn, this man is perfection.But I need to meet him all over again.
Shyly, he shrugs a hulking shoulder. “I’m in the market for some flip-flops. You?”
And he knows it, so we spend the afternoon shopping for the trip. Laughing at ourselves in stunna shades. Flamingo swim shorts that can’t contain his size. And me in hats so floppy, I’ll walk, blinded, off a cliff into the Aegean Sea.
Then he invites me for wings at a local brewery, our laughing faces covered in sticky sauce, before he follows my truck home in his.
