Peaches, don’t think about anyone licking your sweater puppies. Don’t think about them cupping your flesh and hungrily dragging their tongue across your flesh, your nipple hardening and straining toward their hot, open mouth.
The door behind me jingled merrily with a customer walking into the bookstore, and I jumped.
“Not so fast,” Adrian said, pointing an accusatory finger at me.
I caught the open door and backed away, toward the sunny sidewalk. “Dude, today’s my day off. You’re working, not me.”
“Staff meeting,” he said.
“News flash: we don’t do staff meetings.”
Adrian crossed his arms, his sinewy forearms drawing my eye. The guy really had filled out since high school, when he was so skinny and tall, like a string bean. I’d crushed on him pretty hard back then, and now that he’d filled out, he was even hotter—not just because muscles are hot, but because he looked strong enough to handle a curvy woman.
Adrian shrugged and rolled his shoulders back, his round bicep muscles straining against his black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, which was from his high school wardrobe and on the small side.
Oh, yes. Adrian had the strength to handle some dangerous curves. He could probably pick me up and hold my back to the wall, as I wrapped my legs around his waist, and…
“Seven o’clock,” he said. “I’ll just swing home and grab my mom’s car, then I’ll come pick you up at your house.”
“For a staff meeting?”
He glanced over at Golden, who was now pretending to peruse the magazines with Shayla. “Yeah. For bookstore business. I have some ideas.”
“Is Gordon Junior coming?” (Gordon is the reluctant owner of Peachtree Books. He inherited the business with the building, and he spends most of his time next door with his true love, the wine store.)
Adrian smirked and said sarcastically, “Of course Gordie’s coming. He’s very concerned about all the details.” He smirked some more. “I have some information about Black Sheep Books.”
“Those sheep-fuckers?” I quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment, since there were customers all around. My filters weren’t working well, due to the hangover.*
*Sure, we’ll blame the hangover.
“Seven,” he said with authority, then he dashed off to help a vertically-challenged customer pull down a book from the top shelf. With his height, he could actually reach everything in the store without needing a stepladder. He was really good at the job, and he seemed so comfortable and friendly with the customers, too. And now he wanted to call a staff meeting? Was he trying to take over my job as manager?
I didn’t like any of these new developments, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t excited about seven o’clock.
CHAPTER 4
We left the bookstore and walked Golden over to her car, still parked at Cougar Town from the night before. She didn’t seem to want to say goodbye to us, so we let her drive us back to the house.
At the house, she seemed like she wanted to talk to me some more about Adrian. Naturally, I bolted from the vehicle like it was on fire, without looking back.
Back at home, I started looking through my closet for something perfect to wear to my first-ever staff meeting.
A few times, I did get the tugging sense I was forgetting something important. I’d forgotten all about the Dalton stuff on the internet, and whatever Shayla had uncovered.
By the time I remembered to ask Shayla for my laptop battery back, she’d already left for her shift at the restaurant, and I didn’t dare search her room for it. The last thing I wanted was to reach under her mattress or open a drawer and come face to face with her vibrator, currently named The Assassin.*
*Possible marketing slogans for a vibrator named The Assassin:
1. The Assassin. Because he gets in and does the job.
2. The Assassin doesn’t ask questions before, and he doesn’t demand cuddles after.
3. When you need to slay a dangerous ladyboner, call in The Assassin.
4. Service with a smile. Just kidding. The Assassin never smiles.
5. The only bridal shower “gag gift” that will have her gagging for more.
6. Deluxe personal massager. Dishwasher safe, top rack only.
7. Fifty shades of… that’s all we can say, due to trademark laws regarding copyright infringement, but you know what we mean, wink wink.
8. Girlfriend, this is a vibrator. Put it on your clit. If you don’t know where your cl*t is, you’re about to find out.
9. Every night is Date Night. Vibrating bow-tie and tuxedo accessories sold separately.
10. Your ass looks so f**king good in those sweatpants. Girl, you’re making me crazy horny. Now step away from that rum raisin ice cream you inexplicably like so much, put on some Justin Timberlake, and get ready to have your sweet pu**y annihilated by The Assassin.
(That last one may have been a little specific, but you get the idea.)
~
My clingy wrap dress, Creamsicle orange, made me look delicious.
I stared at myself in the mirror, turning from side to side, letting the fabric swing out then fall back down to graze my thighs. The dress was one of my scores from my trip to LA. It came from a designer boutique, and the cut and quality was so good, I didn’t even consider wrestling on a pair of Spanx underneath. Tight undergarments would ruin the sensory experience of such a gorgeous dress.
What point is there to beautiful, soft fabric, if you can’t feel it against your skin? Skin is for more than holding your spleen inside your body and all that stuff your learn in science class. Skin is a canvas for personal art, a medium for piercing, and a damn handy place to keep your body glitter. It’s also nice for licking, sucking, and spanking.
At 7:05, Adrian knocked on the front door.
My cheeks reddened at my naughty thoughts while I ran to answer.
I passed one more mirror along the way and thought of that quote by style icon Coco Chanel: “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory.”
My bracelet with the turquoise beads was one of my favorite pieces, but I probably didn’t need sparkling clip-on earrings and a necklace, did I?
The shadow of Adrian on the other side of the privacy glass shifted, and a butterfly flitted around my belly. He knocked again, louder, and I grinned deviously over keeping him waiting. Hands shaking, I took off the pendant necklace and dropped it in the bowl next to the spare keys.
I opened the door to find Adrian’s back to me. He looked even taller from behind, and he wore grown-up clothing rather than his usual jeans and black T-shirt. Gray trousers made his legs look long, but not too skinny, and his butt looked (dare I say it?) perky. Completing his date outfit was a fitted dress shirt, black with gray pinstripes, rolled up at to the elbows for a casual look. His blond hair looked crisp and recently-trimmed.