"Why a bookstore?" he asks suddenly, the question so unexpected I blink in confusion.
"I...I’ve always loved books," I admit. "They were my escape growing up. My friends when I didn't have any."
He studies me, those intense eyes seeing too much. "Not many friends now either, I'm guessing."
It's not cruel, the way he says it. Just matter-of-fact. And he's right. Most of my socializing happens across the checkout counter.
"Books are safer than people," I say with a small smile. "More predictable."
"Not all people are bad," he says, then adds more quietly, "Just most of them."
When he reaches above me to adjust something on the wall, his body cages mine momentarily. I inhale sharply, and his movements pause. For a heartbeat, he stays there, his chest nearly touching my back.
"You should be more careful," he says, voice dropped to a rumble near my ear. "Who you let in here. Who gets close to you."
My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. "Like who?"
"Like that kid today." His breath is warm against my neck. "Had his eyes all over you."
I swallow hard. "I didn't notice."
"I did."
He steps back abruptly, leaving me cold where his heat had been. I turn to find him staring at me with an intensity that should frighten me but instead makes something low in my belly tighten.
"Almost done," he says. "One more day should finish it."
One more day. I should feel relieved that my store will soon be back to normal. Instead, I feel something dangerously close to disappointment.
As he gathers his tools to leave, his gaze catches mine again. This time, I'm certain I hear him mutter "mine" under his breath before he turns away.
Mine.The word follows me through the rest of the afternoon, echoing in my head as I close up the store.Mine.Such a possessive word should terrify me. So why does it make me feel claimed in a way that sets my skin on fire?
Why do I find myself counting the hours until tomorrow, when he'll return?
three
. . .
Butch
The skies openup without warning. One minute I'm finishing the last security camera install, the next it's like God upended a fucking ocean over Hickory Ridge. Lightning cracks across the sky, followed by thunder that rattles the windows of the bookstore.
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. Now I have an excuse to stay.
Julia stands at the front window, her delicate fingers pressed against the glass like she's trying to hold back the storm herself. "I've never seen it come down this hard."
I grunt in agreement, but my focus isn't on the weather. It's on the way her cardigan has slipped off one shoulder, exposing a strip of pale skin I want to mark with my teeth.
The lights flicker once. Twice. The third time, they stay off.
"Oh!" She jumps, a small sound of surprise escaping her lips.
I'm beside her in two strides. "Got emergency lights?"
"In the back office, I think. But my phone?—"
I pull out mine, turning on the flashlight function. The beam catches her face, those wide eyes reflecting the light. Innocent. Frightened. Something primal stirs in my chest.
