Page 58 of Where We Bloom

“It’s not important,” he replies, shaking his head. He sips his water, watching me. “What made you decide to open a bookshop?”

“I mean, whowouldn’tlove to own a bookstore?” With a smirk, I pull salad dressings out of the fridge for the salad and set them on my small table in the breakfast nook beside the kitchen. I converted my dining room into a library, so this is as fancy as I get. “I’ve always been a bookworm. I went to college for business administration and knew that I’d own my own business. Ihateworking for someone else.”

I glance over and see him lift a brow, humor in his intense gaze. “Is that so?”

“Yep. I want to be the boss. I don’t take direction well.” I bite my lip, suddenly flustered because I took direction pretty damn well during our one night together.

By his quick intake of breath, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“When it comes towork,” I clarify, and he smirks. “Anyway, I’ve known for a long time that I wanted to open a store. I joined a local women-in-business group, and that’s been hugely helpful. Once a month, we listen to guest speakers. People like London Ambrose-Montgomery and Sophie Harrison. Women who arekilling itin business. It’s inspiring. Anyway, I started networking with those girls long before I opened the shop.”

“Hold that thought.” He kisses my forehead before walking back out to flip the steaks on the grill, so I simply follow him. We’ll keep an eye on them together.

“This is easier.” I shrug. “I waited a while to open my place because I knew I wanted that specific location, and the former owners didn’t want to sell.”

He tilts his head, listening, but I can see he’s growling on the inside.Protective man.

“I knew, Iknow, that being next door to the coffee shop was the way to go. Who can resist buying a coffee, then wandering through a bookstore? I didn’t want to be across the street or down the block. I needed to bethere.”

“How did you get them to sell to you?”

“I slept with the former owner for a year. Blow jobs twice a week, and even let him do anal once a month.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as his hands fist, and his eyes narrow menacingly. “Worked like a charm.”

He grinds his molars together, and I hold his gaze with my own for about ten seconds, then I can’t stand it anymore.

I double over in laughter.

“I can’t do it. Oh God, that was funny. Your face!” I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye as Connor reaches out, clasps his hand over the back of my neck, and closes the gap between us. He makes me look him in the face.

“You’re going to pay for that,mo rúnsearc.”

“Oh, I hope so.” I pat his chest and grin, practically glowing. “The owner was an old friend of my dad’s and decided to retire. I offered him fair market value, and he took it. No sexual favors required. But he was stubborn about it for a while. I don’t know how I’m going to get the owners on the side of me to sell when I’m ready to doit. They don’t live here and use it as an investment property.”

“There’s always a way,” he says before turning and taking the finished steak off the grill. He passes me the plate, then turns off the propane, and we make our way inside, fill our plates, and sit at my small table.

As we eat, I keep watching him, looking for any signs that he’s uncomfortable in my simple house, but he looks at ease, which makes it easy to chat about everyday things.

When we’ve finished eating, Connor helps me put the leftovers away and load the dishes in the dishwasher, and then I show him to the door.

I want to ask him to stay.

I want to talk him into breaking the no-sex rule for today, make me go crazy with lust and need, and then hold me while I sleep like a baby, the way I do when I’m with him.

But I don’t have the guts.

He made it clear that nothing more is happening today, and I refuse to be that needy girl who begs him to hold her while she sleeps.

“You’re quiet,” he says when we reach the door.

“I was just thinking that I had a nice time today.” I smile up at him and let my hand rest at his waist as he cups my face and bends to press his lips to mine. This one is a sweet kiss, loaded with promises of more for later.

“Me, too. Thank you for dinner.”

“Thanks for everything else.”

He pulls me to him for a hug, and then the door is open and he walks through it to the waiting Jeep.

“Lock your doors, bumble.”

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