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“Touché,” he says, grinning like a madman. “So, you’re here to pick up the boss’s dirty mail, I presume.”
I nod. “You presume correctly.”
He starts digging around behind the counter, nodding to himself. “When I realized it was Thursday, I figured Tash would send one of you in to do her bidding. But my money was on Vivian.”
“Oh, it was touch and go there for a minute. There was hair pulling, wine was spilled, but in the end, I won.” I beam at him.
He places a box on the counter and swats the air. “Oh, stop. You’ll make me blush.”
“A hard feat, I hear,” I fire back.
He chuckles. “Oh, honey. You have no idea.”
A woman walks in, glancing in our direction long enough to make eye contact. A shadow of a smile floats over her features, but she continues on a path to whatever she’s looking for.
“You can tell an awful lot about people by the way they walk in here,” Quinn says conspiratorially as he pushes the box of bookmarks toward me and leans forward on the counter.
Instinctively, I move in closer and raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Do tell.”
He tips his chin. “See that guy in the back? The one who’s checking out the bondage?”
Slowly, I twist around and glance in the direction of the back wall. Sure enough, there’s a tall man in the section. He’s dressed in a cowboy hat and flannel shirt and is fondling a ball gag.
I turn around with wide eyes and nod.
“Now, you’d think by the way he’s massaging the merchandise that he’s a go-getter who knows what he wants,” Quinn whispers. “Maybe he likes a little pony play.”
“He’s not?” I ask, unable to help myself. Granted, I have no idea what he means by pony play, but I let that slide, fairly certain it’s better that way.
“Not if the first few seconds in the store have a say. He slunk into the room and ducked behind the shelf as quick as he could. Never looked in my direction or made any kind of eye contact. He was either hiding from the potential onlookers from the street or was too embarrassed to look me in the eye,” he says. “My guess is the latter.”
“So?”
“Well, it says he’s got hangups and isn’t owning his sexual prowess just yet. But he’s working on it. I’m already conjuring up recommendations for when he manages to muster the courage to waltz his ass up here,” Quinn quips with a wink. “Now, the other guy—the one by the party supplies, he was a man on a mission. He walked in here right before you did, strutting like he owns the place—which he doesn’t,obvs. Strong eye contact. Even tipped his chin and said,‘Hey, how’s it goin’?’He either has a bachelor party to plan or he’s about to be the gag-gift giver of the century. Either way, he’s a man who’s secure with who he is and haszerofucks to give. I bet he’s an absolutebeastin bed.” Quinn places his chin in his hand and sighs loudly. “Which means he’sprobably straight.”
I rotate to get a look at the guy, but his back is turned to us. All I can make out is a dark head of messy brown hair and a great build. Clearly, the man works out because he has shoulders for days. Plus, he’s got the kind of ass that fills his faded denimreallynicely. Too nice, in fact, for the tingle that hits this married woman’s nether regions.
I clear my throat and shift my gaze.
“What about that one?” I ask quietly, eyeing the woman who walked in a moment ago. She’s now standing with her hands on her hips in front of the wall of vibrators.
“Oh, honey, she’s done withhis shitand ready to take matters into her own hands.” Quinn chuckles. “Literally.”
“Who’s shit?” I ask, turning back to him.
“Does it matter?” He shoots me a WTF look. “She is fed up with a capitalF. Any minute, she’s going to ask for myoh-so-worldly adviceon which one of those silicone beauties will turn her vision technicolor and I’ll give it to her. Oh, that reminds me. You havegotto check out this new Swedish brand we just got in.” He twists around and pulls up a couple of black boxes.
Without a second thought, he opens the first box, plucks the silicone toy out, and waves it proudly between us. Then, he passes it to me.
It’s a bright blue number that looks more like the letter V than a vibrator.
V for Vibrator.I guess it works.
“Meet Hugo. I’m officially in love and no longer need a man to complete me,” he swoons, fanning himself. “It has a prostate massager and eighthands-freesettings. Seriously, I’ve never come so hard in my life.”
“Oh, dear god.” My face flushes and I pass the monstrosity back. “Well, that’s lovely for you. I don’t have a prostate, so …”
His face brightens and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Which is why I am pleased to bring you this next piece. Say hello toEnigma,” he says, removing a dark pink vibrator from the other box. This one is shaped more like a question mark to match the questions in my mind.
