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"Who?"
"The man who just left," I growl, stomping toward the counter.
"Oh." She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. "I don't know. Some odd little man who asks way too many questions about things I know nothing about."
"What kind of questions?" I set a coffee cup on the counter in front of her.
"Is this for me?" Her hazel eyes widen in genuine delight.
"Depends," I say.
"On what?" She leans toward me almost as if she can't help herself, those beautiful eyes locked on my face. "If you mention the thing that happened yesterday that we agreed never happened, I'm going to have to murder you."
"Yeah?" A grin spreads across my face. "You think you can take me?"
"I read mafia smut like it's going out of business," she scoffs. "I know at least fifty-four ways to unalive a man. I can take you."
"Mafia smut?" My grin widens.
"Dirty books about hot mafia men." A blush creeps across her cheeks. "It's a thing. You ask way too many questions, Super-spy Finn Taylor."
I briefly consider telling her about the Arakas family, the closest thing to a mafia family we have in town, and then quickly change my mind. She does not need to know a damn thing about them. Not until she's wearing my ring and it's too late for one of them to swoop in and try to steal her. Call me crazy, but I don't think Jude "Fifth" Despora would appreciate it if I had to kill one of his new in-laws. I mean, he and Devin Arakas haven't even been married that long.
"I'm going to need recommendations, pretty baby," I growl.
"You want to read the dirty mafia books?" She stares at me in patent disbelief.
Uh, fuck yeah, I do. Especially if they make her blush like that. I have no intentions of fighting fair when it comes to her. I'll read a thousand dirty mafia books if it gets me closer to my end goal. Besides, any excuses I have to visit the bookshop is a good excuse in my book. Pun intended.
"I do," I say, reaching out to run my thumb across her bottom lip. "I want to know everything about you, Scarlett Crawford from Gatsby Books."
"I'm not very interesting," she whispers. And then I feel the tip of her tongue touch my thumb.
My cock thumps against my zipper again, acting like the Hulk.
Ah, dammit all to hell. My brothers were right. It is this water. And I need to drink more of it. Alotmore.
The door to the shop opens and Mr. and Mrs. Drew, an elderly couple from the retirement village down the street, wanders in. I reluctantly pull my hand back and stand upright, putting a little distance between us before I do something wildly inappropriate and fuck my little bookworm on the counter. Hm. Maybe one night after the shop is closed….
"Welcome to Gatsby Books!" Scarlett calls out.
"Hurry up and leave," I mumble.
Scarlett hears me and quickly grabs her coffee cup, taking a giant gulp.
"Jeshush Chrish," she says, sticking her tongue out and trying to blow on it. "Thash shot."
"It's coffee, pretty baby."
She gives me a dirty glare.
I hold my hands up, fighting a smile. I can't wait until I'm allowed to kiss the shit out of this girl. Fuck me. That better be soon. This waiting bullshit is already getting old.
"You drank my coffee; therefore, you owe me a favor," I say when she finally stops blowing on her tongue. "That's my price."
"I did not agree to this!"
"You agreed by drinking the coffee."
