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"What?"
"That was the front door. The bell rings in here to let us know when someone comes in, and Vin was supposed to stop by and pick up his paycheck." He turned away, adjusting his belt. "Get dressed. Vin shouldn't see you like this."
He left me there, my legs still weak, my heart racing, and my mind reeling from the encounter. As I listened to the distant sound of Gunnar greeting my dad, my stomach lurched. When Gunnar left the room, his power over me vanished, and embarrassment about the things I'd done made my stomach lurch.
And there was no fucking way I wanted another awkward conversation with my father. I adjusted my skirt and slipped out the back door.
Mira
I decided to takeNori's advice and stay the full week. There was no leaving until I'd gotten what I'd come here for, and the scene in Gunnar's shop had made that all too clear. But he'd been prepping for a sexy party — he'd had a little fun with me on the table, but he'd probably fucked dozens of people after I'd left.
Was that how sex parties worked? I wasn't sure, but I was unsettled by imagining him at a sex party without me, and I had no right to be — I had no claim over him.
The little downtown shopping district of Hazy Cove was quaint and cute, with small shops and eateries clearly set up for tourists, interspersed with local businesses. Everything had a weather-worn quality that spoke to the harsh storms off the Pacific Coast, but in my eyes, that only added to the charm. This place wasn't too perfect — it was real.
I'd gotten no sleep the night before, tossing and turning with visions of Gunnar's wild dominance and subsequent sex party haunting my thoughts, and I felt about as worn out as the little store selling rainbow-colored kites on the corner. I passed a cute cupcake shop, my mouth watering at the delectable treats on display. It was too early in the morning for it to be open, but it made me wonder if baked goods were the answer. As if answering my question, the salty tang of the sea mingled with the sweet aroma of fresh-baked pastries wafting from somewhere, and I followed that smell.
Soon, I found myself standing before a little blue and white shop with all sorts of books cramming the windows, as if someone who loved books but didn't quite know how to explain why had designed the displays. I studied the sign. Tangled Pages Bookstore and Cafe.
"That'll do." I reached for the brass doorknob. A bell rang out as I stepped inside. It was much more charming and playful than the bell that had interrupted us yesterday. My inner muscles quivered at the thought, my body instructing me to get my ass to Malloy Customs to find Gunnar.
Shaking off that idiotic thought, I paused at the threshold. The interior was as disordered as the window displays. The neatrows of bookshelves to the right of the door were overwhelmed by stacks of boxes, halfway unpacked. It seemed as if someone had been stocking the shelves and was called away, but when I reached out and picked up one of the books, a best seller from a few months ago, there was a thin layer of dust on it.
To my left, there was a tiny cafe, with six or seven tables, a long counter along one wall with several stools at it, a massive espresso machine, and a display case showing pastries and sandwiches.
"Welcome to Tangled Pages." A man's voice called from somewhere, a moment before a blonde head popped up from behind the espresso machine. "Sorry, just restocking!"
The barista was around my age, or a little older, and very handsome. He was Gunnar's opposite, friendly and wholesome, with sandy tousled hair, and hazel eyes that held a spark of something mischievous. His face lit up when he spotted me.
"Oh! You're new!"
"Um, yes?" I wasn't entirely sure what to make of him.
He burst out laughing. "Sorry, it's February, which is so far from tourist season that I expected one of my regulars. I'm Colby, Colby Storm." He held out a hand.
Not wanting to leaving him hanging, I brushed off my skirt and reached for his hand, smiling, though a little baffled byhis greeting, as he wrapped my fingers in a warm handshake. "Mira," I said. "Mira Shah."
"You look confused."
"It's not every day a barista shakes my hand before asking me what I want to drink," I said. "I guess I'm not used to small town friendliness."
His eyes sparkled with laughter, his cheerful charm warming me from the inside. "You have a point. Can I take your order, miss?" He winked, as if he was playing a pretend game, not doing his job.
"Chai latte, please. And something sweet." I stepped up to the pastry display and peeked inside, my mouth watering at the delicious-looking scones.
"Those are locally made and delivered fresh daily. In fact, Marlene stopped by a few minutes ago to drop them off," Colby said as he expertly steamed the milk for my chai.
"Ah, that's the smell I was following," I said, laughing.
"Better pick yours before they're gone. Marlene only cooks in small batches, and Wanda and Daisy will be here any moment to scarf down all the pastries."
"Wanda and Daisy?"
"The town's two crazy grandmas. They stop by the shop regularly to plan their hijinks and eat all my treats. Not that I'm complaining — regular customers are in short supply at a coastal town in February!"
Colby rolled up his sleeves, then reached for a cinnamon shaker, and my eyes landed on the tattoos peeking from under the crisp blue fabric of his shirt—lines and swirls telling me he wasn't as wholesome as he seemed. He met my eyes, raising an eyebrow, and I pointed to a cranberry scone. He handed it to me, along with my chai, and I set it on one of the tables, looking around at the books before sitting down.
"Apologies for the state of the books. My aunt passed six months ago and left the shop to me and my sister, but my sister doesn't want much to do with it. I feel like I'm constantly playing catch up."
