Page 158 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

If this were any other day in my old life, I would normally be nursing jittery nerves and on my third coffee of the morning, but not today. Not after seeing my vision of my best life coming together right before my eyes.

Tiny fairy lights glint off the highly polished slabs of mahogany wood, and I admire the aisles of freshly organized books. Thanks to my dad and brother I now had handmade shelves lining three walls of my new book shop and several filling the center. Some round with multiple slots to fill with children’s books and other shelves that were long with space on either side for adults. I couldn’t wait to see children fill this place looking for a fabulous adventure within the page while their moms and dads looked on.

A tiny paw on my foot drew my attention and I scooped up my rescue cat, snuggling him close. “We’re finally home, Poe.”

I surveyed the progress made so far. There was still the thrillers and mystery sections to stock, and I still needed to finish setting up the small sitting area. Possibly buy another sofa for the front left corner, but I’m almost there.

All in all, my dream had finally come true. I had my own business. Years of business classes and night school had finally paid off. Well, it will pay off, I guessed. I still had a loan to pay even if it was my parents who completed the paperwork. And I would, even if I had to work night and day to make this business work.

“Hey there, short stuff. How’s it goin’? Mind givin’ me a hand here?”

I turned around to see my older brother, Caleb, pushing through the front door, his arm loaded with a new shipment. Bulky boxes cover most of his face, but the eyes peeking over the top pleaded for me to hurry.

“Oh! Watch the door! Kick it shut!” Coffee sloshed but I tightened my hold on a suddenly frisky kitty who thought every open door was an adventure waiting to happen. “Ya know, one of these days I’m going to kick you in the shins for calling me short stuff.”

Making sure the door was closed, I set down my coffee and fur baby, now grumpy about the missed chance of making a great escape. Once the store opened the tiny escape artist would need to spend his days in the back room with a closed door between him and the outside world.

“Can you do it after you take some of these boxes?”

After grabbing a nearby towel, I wiped off my hands. Seeing there was no hope for my blouse, I rushed over and took the first box off and set it aside. “These must be the final ones. I’ve been waiting on these. They’re for the nonfiction section.”

“Damn, woman, how many books do you need? You are aware you don’t live in Chicago anymore, right? A town this size can’t possibly need all these books.”

I pursed my lips in a way that said I was not in the mood for his brotherly snark. “The town is plenty big enough to support a bookstore. I need to have something for everyone. Plus, are you saying small-town people don’t like to read? If your momma heard you right now, she’d throw every book she owns at you and then make you pick them up.”

My older brother stared at me wide-eyed, arms crossed. “Now I didn’t say that. Don’t get all ruffled up.”

I smiled to myself. My brother was only worried about his little sister. “Don’t worry. The degree sticking out of that box over there says it all as to my credentials. I know the market. I know my competition. Trust me. Between the Sheets will do just fine in this little nook of the world. Now, can you place that second box by the counter, please? Yeah, right there. Thanks.”

“Bossy and always wanting the last word. You know I wondered if a country girl like you would make it in Chicago. I know Savannah isn’t a small town compared to a lot of places around here, but it is compared to Chicago. But I had no reason to worry. You’ve got enough sass to back a bull up.”

I arched a brow but otherwise ignored my brother’s jab.

I straightened and winced a little at the tightness in my lower muscles. Being hunched over hundreds of boxes of books for a solid week had me in desperate need of a massage or a good jog.

“Huh. I thought by now you would have lasered that thing off. How long are you gonna keep it?”

I paused, a load of books in hand, to look back at my brother. He was leaning an elbow against the front counter with my coffee in hand, eyes glued to my exposed midriff.

“Hey, get your own.”

“I will when you answer the question. That douche didn't deserve to have you and you don’t deserve to have to look at his name every time you shower. Why haven’t you covered it up by now?”

While trying to shelve my load of books, I see my skirt had pulled down enough to show the edges of my tattoo. “Nosy much,” I retorted. When he only continued to stare, I pushed forward with a light shrug. “Maybe one day I’ll get to covering it up or something. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it in a while. I’ve been worried about trying to set up my new life, ya know.”

I lied. I’m pretty sure my brother knew it the second the words left my lips, too. It’s all I thought about and I never did have a good poker face.

Truth be told, until now I couldn’t bring myself to cover up the name of the man I thought loved me. I felt the burn of embarrassment flush my face at that thought. Admitting I was stupid enough to get the tattoo in the first place made me sick to my stomach. I went so far as to stain my skin with my ex’s name three weeks after meeting the jerk.

Can you say stupid on a whole other level?

That was me. Not only because I found out he was a serial two-timer, but also because I thought love at first sight was a real thing. It’s not. I dumped him before it got bedroom serious, if you know what I mean, but still. I was left with an ugly reminder of how impulsive decisions ruin lives. At least I hadn't slept with him. That small concession made it easier to sleep at night.

One upside, I might be stuck with a tattoo of his name, but it has also served as a reminder to not be so gullible.

That was year one away from home and on my own. Thinking I knew everything there was about the world.

Spoiler alert, I didn’t.

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