I drove to the bookstore, not surprised to find a faint glow in the curtained window. I parked beside her Jeep on the side of the building and walked around front.
“Kira?” I called out, entering and locking the door behind me.
“Back here,” she replied, sounding tired but not in distress.
The tension I carried in my shoulders relaxed.
I paused at the filled bookshelves in the front of the store, amazed at the vibrant displays. The group had been at work all day, preparing for what Kira called a soft launch. The doors would be open to customers, but there’d be no big announcement about it until the grand re-opening in two weeks. I didn’t know much about bookstore setups, but it felt like they’d set themselves up for success, despite all the setbacks.
None of this would be possible without Kira’s conviction. Her drive and dedication. I wondered if she had any idea how much of a force to be reckoned with she really was.
I moved behind the terrycloth curtain we hung to divide the open part of the store from the construction zone, but I still didn’t see Kira.
I did, however, spot a faint light coming from the backarea.
The office.
“Are you still working?” I asked, stopping in the doorway.
She sat at the desk, rubbing both hands over her face. Her red hair was piled into a high messy bun. One tank top strap hung to the side, revealing that dragonfly tattoo again. I wanted to ask her about it. Did it mean anything? Or was it a spontaneous walk-in tattoo from a girls’ weekend trip?
Before I could ask, my gaze zeroed in on the strap of her red lace bra.
Fuck.
I forced my gaze around the office instead, noting framed pictures, book quotes, and a filing cabinet that was on its last leg. But I didn’t need to see those puckered nipples to visualize them. The way they looked teased between my fingers as I entered Kira’s hot, wet channel.
“I’m almost done.”
I cleared my throat. “It’s late.”
“I know. Where’s Husker?”
“He’s watchingM*A*S*H.”
Kira’s eyes widened, as though she was just now processing how latelatereally was. She leaned forward, pulling her phone from the back pocket of her denim shorts. I tried not to stare at the way her ass popped when she arched her back, but I was only a man.
A man who was fucking crazy about this incredible, hardworking, talented, beautiful woman.
I wanted to tell her.
The words begged to be released from my clamped lips, but I forced them to stay put. Once the grand re-opening and her first book signing as Diana Davenport were over, I’d show her the finished apartment upstairs.
And lay it all on the line.
Until then . . .
“Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re going to stare at my ass, the least you can do is touch it.”
Our gazes locked and held. There was exhaustion in her blue eyes, but there was also mischief.
“I’d apologize, but it would be a lie,” I admitted, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry I missed your texts. I silenced my phone earlier, and we just got so busy?—”
