“Wow, Jack. You played great today,” they say nearly in unison.
“You big Boston Breakers fans? It was a good scrimmage today. Chicago is going to be in trouble next week when we play them for our first preseason game.”
“Well, we loveyou. Does that count?” The shorter of the pair flips back her blonde hair. She’s in a tight blue dress.
“Both of you?”
They both nod, inching closer to me.
Am I that lucky?
Yes, the fuck I am. Almost always.
“Want to get out of here?” I ask.
“Sure, our hotel isn’t too far. Just over on Beacon.”
They’re from out of town? Even better. Less strings.
“I know a place.” I order us a ride to the small boutique hotel tucked away in Back Bay, not interested in making small talk. It’s always the same, and it’s clear they don’t want to talk about hockey.
They whisper to one another, then giggle, before the taller one in the red top reaches her hand out to grip my arm. “Even better.”
“Love when a plan works out.” I smile again, tucking my phone into my pocket. “Ready?”
They’re giggling behind me as I lead them out, but not before Laura glares at me from the exit and mouths, “Hell no.”
“You told me to go home, Laura,” I shout, spinning back toward her with my arms in the air. “Never said it should be alone!”
“You better…” She chases after us out onto the sidewalk, sidestepping the massive bouncer manning the door. “Be there at ten tomorrow morning. Merritt Point, Murphy!”
Chapter 2
Izzy
“Sure, I enjoy a big cock, but if my hand can’t fit around it, no thanks. That’d destroy me. Call me picky…”
Zoe grimaces, setting down the newest orc romance to come into the shop. She holds her hands up, as if gripping the imagined girth.
Just that word makes me shiver.
Girth.
Not worse thanmoist, but it’s a close second.
I chuckle behind the counter, answering emails on my laptop. “You’d need reconstructive surgery afterward.” I’ve spent an hour this morning sorting out the bubblegum-pink shelves and restocking them in preparation for today.
“Adds a whole new meaning to aftercare.” Zoe grips the scissors, sticking out her tongue to focus as she carefully follows the outline of a stack of ghosts for next month’s window display. She snickers, sets the scissors down, then takes a swig of her latest iced matcha flavor obsession—pistachio.
I drum my fingernails on the counter, turn on music, and try for some semblance of focus to the million thoughts swirling inmy head. But honestly, my brain feels a lot like the morning light bouncing off the disco balls around the shop.
Today is going to be a big day, the first Fall Fest in Merritt Point for my romance bookshop, Salty Romantic. I have my eyes on expanding and leasing the space next door, but I need another solid month of revenue before I can take that leap. Given the popularity of Main Street, I just hope I can make the jump before it’s too late. There’s probably a whole line of small businesses vying for the spot after theMerritt Point Heraldran a piece on Mr. Piersanti’s plans to diversify his real estate holdings two weeks ago.
“You think we’ll be busy today?” Zoe asks. “Or just a lot of people with sticks up their asses once they realize we only sell romance and stock Plan B in the bathroom?”
We haven’t been open quite a year yet, and the only thing I have to go off of is that this business used to be me selling romance books from a van, and now I have a brick-and-mortar storefront.
Not the creepy van you’re warned about as a kid that claims to have candy, or the van down by the river, but a cute pink van I retrofitted into a mobile bookstore.
