Page 22 of Under Daddy's Spell

Clearing the crowd was much faster once outside, and they soon welcomed the breeze blowing, even if it was warm.

“I had twenty people max in the bookstore at the same time for my grand reopening,” she muttered, dodging a few more eager attendees who ran up to join the teeming horde. ?

“You’ll have to find out who they use for PR. I’ve never seen a mosh pit in a gym before.”

As they cleared the crowd and headed down the sidewalk to her store, a silver town car with blacked-out windows drove along the curb out front. They turned and watched it come to a stop in front of Jordan’s gym. A chauffeur rushed around to the rear passenger door to open it for whoever was inside. A mammoth man in a black suit and a lot of flashy jewelry got out.?By this time, the throng outside the door had noticed him, too, and swarmed around him.

Tessa had to wonder if he was Winston, Kamara, or Thomas. She elbowed Angie and asked, “Any idea who that is?”

Staring agog at the spectacle, her friend drawled, “No fucking clue.”

“I’ll have to ask Jordan. For now, we should get back,” Tessa urged, tugging on Angie’s arm. “Who knows? There might be spillover to our store.”

Echoing Jordan’s amusement when she’d made a similar comment, Angie laughed as if that was the most outrageous suggestion she’d ever heard.

Chapter Eight

THE LOUD BANG OF HERtrash bag hitting the bottom of the nearly empty dumpster echoed through the rear lot. Tessa gripped the other one with two hands, wound up, and let it sail over the metal sidewall, the top edge of which was at least a foot above her head. Once the second bang and crunch dissipated—this bag contained broken glass, thus the added sound effect—she heard a deep voice say from close behind her, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

She turned with a grin, delighted to see him again, even by the stinky dumpster. “Oh, but the fragrance of putrid trash in the moonlight is so romantic.”

He half grunted, half laughed, the first a bit of a habit, she’d noticed, before tossing his four bags in, two at a time. When the louder bangs subsided, he wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans as he squinted down at her.

“It’s too dark. You should have someone with you when you take out the trash and to walk you to your car after work if you’re going to park back here.”

“I’ve been doing it for four years without any trouble.”

“That it hasn’t happened before isn’t a reason not to be careful, Tessa. If I’m not here to do it, one of my guys will, starting tomorrow.”

He didn’t ask. Rather, he decreed it would happen, which was bossiness to the extreme. The offer was sweet and thoughtful, though, and foremost, done out of concern for her safety, so it didn’t immediately make her bristle.

“It isn’t always this dark. The floodlight is out. It’s on my list of things I need fixed if Mr. Thompson ever calls.”

He glanced around the parking lot and muttered, “Damn. There are three out. How many times have you asked him to take care of it?”

At least eight, but she replied, “A few.”

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