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“Stand by Your Man.”
The irony isn’t lost.
“Oh, hell no!” I yell, angrier than a mama bear whose cub was just kicked.
I grab my keys, only seeing red, and take off out the front door. I barely remember to lock the door before I storm down the sidewalk, not even noticing my feet are bare.
When I get to the front door of the hardware store, I yank it hard. It doesn’t give, though. It’s locked. I pound on the door until my fist hurts and I’m worried I’m about to break the glass. But no one comes to the door. How could they hear over that stupid song blasting at full volume?
I turn around and head back to my store. There’s a back door and one that leads to the apartment upstairs. If I throw on my sandals, I can head out back and beat down the door until the jerk answers.
Just as I approach the building that’s positioned directly between his store and mine, I notice the door cracked open. The windows are covered with paper, but I can see a sliver of light shining through the crack and landing on the sidewalk before me. I don’t even give myself a chance to talk myself out of it. I reach for the door and fling it open.
When I step inside, I stop in my tracks.
The building is done.
And it’s…beautiful.
Two large display cases sit directly in front of where I stand, both empty. There’s a matching rack on the left wall, with satin covered hangers. Those are empty too. What draws my attention next is the stunning bench positioned directly beneath the window. It’s stained to match the displays, and has beautiful etchings on the side that remind me of a flower.
Huh.
I definitely didn’t think Latham was the flower kinda guy, but whatever floats his boat.
The music is loud, but I’m able to ignore it. I step farther inside and see the back half of the room filled to the brim with product. There’s tons of new items all on new displays, and I have to admit, it looks amazing. Latham did a great job at turning this space into a showroom for his new lines. While I might hate his guts and wish I could twist them with a fork like noodles, I’m proud of him for turning this old building into something useable again.
I don’t hear him, but I can feel his eyes on me. It also dawns on me the music suddenly isn’t nearly as loud as it was before. In fact, Tammy is at a much lower, respectable volume. I glance to the right, and there he is.
Latham.
He’s leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches me. I’m so overwhelmed with seeing him I can’t even seem to find words. He looks…good. His scruffy jaw is a little longer than normal, but it totally works for him. His gray T-shirt is still molded to his impossibly hard chest, and his jeans fit in all the right places. He looks as gorgeous as he did the first day he strutted into my store, ready to give me a hard time.
I’ve missed that.
I’ve missed our stupid pranks.
I’ve missed the sass and the frustration.
I’ve missed him.
So much.
His eyes have me trapped in a trance where only he and I exist. I couldn’t look away if I tried. He doesn’t move from the wall, but there’s no missing the way his jaw tightens and his back straightens. “What are you wearing?” he finally asks, his voice familiar, yet so different at the same time. It’s thicker, as if he’s pained.
That’s when I glance down.
And gasp.
I’m wearing the tiny little pajamas that say Kiss Me Goodnight across the chest. And speaking of chest, my nipples are hard, the ring clearly visible to Latham, God, and anyone else who wanted to see.
“You went outside like that?” he growls, his jaw ticking as he says the words. He pushes off the wall, taking a step in my direction. Then another. He moves until he’s standing directly in front of me, his eyes burning with passion and need.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a step back, but it doesn’t help. I can still smell his soap and feel his eyes raking over my body.
“That doesn’t help,” he pleads. I glance down and realize I’m pushing my girls up and out of the tank top.
I quickly straighten, drop my arms, and adjust the top. “Sorry.”
