Page 2 of Owned In Misty Mountain

“I’m just glad it didn’t hit the storytime corner.” She looks back at me with a small smile. “The little ones would’ve revolted.”

I grunt. That’s about all I’ve got.

Because she’s talking about children and structure integrity and I’m too busy wondering what kind of sounds she makes when she falls apart.

Jesus, Mike. Get your shit together.

She stops in the back room.

Points up.

I should be looking at the roof. I look at her instead.

“This can all be fixed.” My voice comes out lower than I intend. Rougher.

She turns to me fully, arms crossed under those soft tits.

“You sure? I’d hate to have the library collapse on a bunch of first graders.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Her smile deepens. “You always did fix things.”

I swallow hard.

I used to ruffle her hair and call her kid. Now all I want is to yank her into my arms and put my mouth on her neck until she’s gasping my name.

Her phone buzzes. She checks it, sighs, and murmurs something about the mayor’s assistant needing an update.

“Thanks for coming by, Mr. Costa.”

I nod, stepping back. “It’s Mike.”

She tilts her head. “You sure?”

No.

Not sure of anything anymore.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I say. “Bring my crew. Get started on repairs.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s you.”

Then she flashes me a smile—sweet, real, soft as sin.

And I know I’m fucked.

Two

Shanay

The second the door closes behind him, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath for ten years.

Which is about how long I’ve had a thing for Mike Costa.

Except back then, it was innocent.

Now?

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