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Pippa
Pippa handed Troy a stack of books. “These are for the author signing tomorrow. Can you get them set up on the table over there?” She nodded towards the other side of the room.
“Yes, ma’am, I can. Do you want me to lock up this evening, or will you be down to do it?” he asked, adjusting the books in his arms.
“You go ahead. I’m not sure I’ll be home in time.”
“Oh? Big afternoon ahead?” He smiled as hot air blew into the shop.
Mason walked in, his gaze flicking between Troy and her as his jaw clenched. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss before she could react. She pushed his chest and jerked her head back.
Mason smiled. “Hey, baby, ready to go?”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Troy walked away.
Pippa gave him a smile. “Goodbye.” She turned her attention to Mason and whisper-hissed, “What was that?”
Mason shrugged, still not letting her go. “Just wanted to make it clear that you were taken.”
“So you had to piss all over me? Even Lady has better manners than that.”
Lady huffed by her side.
Mason smirked. “A kiss is hardly comparable to urination.”
Pippa shook her head. “That was unprofessional. This is my place of work, my business, and that was my employee. I can’t be making out with . . . with . . .”
“With your boyfriend,” he finished for her.
She shook her head. “You’re my friend. Not my boyfriend. We’ve been over this.”
“Why don’t you show me your secret library before we go?”
“You’re just changing the subject,” she argued.
He shrugged and leaned in. “Show me.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
Pippa led him to the door in the back marked Private. She opened it and stepped in. Heat pressed against her back from his closeness. His head turned, as if he was taking in the mostly empty room. A lone desk sat in the center; a few boxes filled with books were piled on top.
Mason waited for Lady to walk in and closed the door behind them.
“What are you doing?” Pippa asked.
He spun her around and brought her back to his front. Lowering his mouth to the shell of her ear, he pointed. “Built-in bookshelves on every wall, right?”
She nodded. The scruff of his beard scratched against her cheek, sending tingles racing through her.
His finger moved to the one long window that arched at the top. “And a window seat for that space?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Comfy overstuffed seats, maybe a hanging chair or two. And lights—lots of sparkling lights.”
“That doesn’t sound so complicated.”
