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jenny
?. . .?
“Sweet Jesus,”I murmur, inspecting a romance novel with a man on the cover who looks like he’d produce grade-A nut butter. My eyes lock on the bulge between his legs, and I clench my kitty as I get lost in a fantasy of him spraying his man seed all over?—
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but you’ve got a little something right there on the corner of your mouth,” a deep male voice breaks me from my thoughts.
My head snaps up, and I’m met with a wall of muscle covered in a white T-shirt that stretches taut over bulging biceps. My eyes travel upward, taking in the rough, unkempt chestnut-colored beard, plump lips with a pronounced cupid’s bow, messy ginger hair, and a prominent nose until they finally land on two piercing whiskey eyes surrounded by deep creases from years of laughter.
“I’m sorry?” My question comes out breathy and hot, both from the book in my hand and the gorgeous man standing in front of me.
“Oh, um. . .” A wicked gleam dances in his eyes as he smiles, and I feel my heart race in anticipation. The dark and moody bookstore transforms into a fiery inferno as his hand reaches out to caress my cheek, igniting every nerve in my body. His calloused thumb grazes my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me? Stupid question, of course I want him to kiss me. He’s gorgeous. “Sorry, there’s just a little drool.”
His words land like a sudden blow to my stomach, knocking the air out of me. Mortification doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel as I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, an action that forces his hand to fall away. My once-ghostly pale complexion burns, embarrassment spreading like flames across my chest and up to my cheeks.
“Thanks,” I mutter, turning away from him and wishing I’d spontaneously combust.
“No, wait.” He grips my bicep. “It was a joke.”
“Not a funny one,” I grumble, yanking my arm free.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, okay? I was trying to flirt, but I’m obviously shit at it.” He steps back, and I immediately miss the warmth of his big body next to me.
Wait, was he actually flirting with me? I stand up straighter, reminding myself of my worth. Of course he was flirting with me; just look at me. My baby blue dress is covered in delicate white flowers and highlights my curves perfectly. The short length and side slit showcase my thick thighs, and my tits look amazing thanks to the scoop neck and my balconette bra. I took the time to curl my long, dark brown hair, and I have the perfect amount of makeup on—enough to sculpt some cheekbones into my round face, but not so much that it’ll melt off my face as I run my errands on this hot summer day.
“You were?” I ask, still not brave enough to face him again.
“Yeah. I saw the way you were looking at the cover of that book and. . . I don’t know. I thought if I could get your attention, maybe you’d look at me the same way. It was stupid. I’m stupid. I’ll just leave you alone now.”
“Wait.” Whirling around, I grab his hand, stopping him. “You’re not stupid. I was just embarrassed that the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life caught me salivating over the cover of a romance novel.”
He weaves his fingers through mine and pulls me closer. The teasing grin on his face does funny things to my insides. “Only in real life? So the dude on the cover of that book is better looking than I am?”
I quickly set the book back on the shelf. “What book?”
His answering chuckle is deep and loud, disrupting the quiet atmosphere of the store, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “What’s your name?”
“Jenny. Jenny Talya. What’s yours?”
“Eaton Beavers.” His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, and my nipples pucker. I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to a man, and it’s throwing me off kilter.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eaton.” My cheeks heat for a whole new reason now.
“So you’re into romance novels, huh?”
“Actually, no. Well, I mean, yes, I do read them, but that’s not why I’m here this time. I saw that one as I was walking by, and it caught my attention, but that was before I saw you.” I bite my lower lip to prevent any more word vomit.
“You’re cute when you babble.” He glances into the basket I forgot was at my feet. “The Small Business Bible, huh? Are you an entrepreneur?”
“No. I mean, yes. My company is small. One employee, and you’re looking at her.” Panic surges through me as I anticipate his next question, knowing I won’t answer it. My business idea is not only unconventional, it’s considered taboo by most standards, and revealing it to him would also expose parts of myself that I prefer to keep private. At least until I know someone, as in, know them in the biblical sense.
“Oh? What kind of company are you running?” There it is, my worst fear. I try to release his hand, needing to break the contact before he does, but his grip only tightens. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. What just happened?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “My business is just that. My business.”
“Okay,” he draws out. “But if you have a business that you don’t tell anyone about, then how will you make money?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously, I tell people about it. Just not people in my real life.”
