Page 11 of Love in Mission City: The Shorts

“I’m surprised a young one such as yourself would even recognize eighties music.”

“I’m twenty-seven years old, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re kind of making my point.Millennial.”

He scowled.“What are you, a Boomer?”

This guy was way too smart for that comment not to be sarcasm.“I’m a late Generation X.”

“You’re not that old.”

Damn cocky, this one.“Maybe not, but I feel that old.”I did.I was also a Millennial, but I straddled the line.Most days I felt old.Not wise.Just old.

He waved me off.“What does this have to do with respecting your neighbor?”

“Look, I didn’t know you could hear the music.I’ll keep it down from now on.”I yanked my keys from my pocket and moved to the side door to my shop.I figured he’d take the hint, and once he disappeared, I’d go back out and lock the gate.I strode into the store and was hanging my jacket on the peg when I realized he followed me.

He slammed the door.

Then he had the temerity to wag his finger in my face.Swear to God, I was within a breath of breaking the fucking thing.“What do you want now?I told you I’d keep the music down.”

“And what about taking your motorcycle out at five in the morning?”

“Doesn’t the train leave the station at five-thirty?I’ve heard the bells at that hour.”Drove me nuts the first few days, but I got used to it.Just like Bookstore Dude would get used to hearing me drive away.“And, for the record, my bike isn’t that loud.”

He grunted.

That sound shot right through me and straight into my cock.I growled.

He took a step back.Then he cocked his head.

The moment spun out until understanding dawned.

“Fuck me.”His words whispered across the space.

“Well, frankly, I’d prefer you fuck me.”I started to tug my hair so I could tie it.“If it’s all the same with you.”

“Leave your hair down.”

My hand stilled.

“I’m going to yank it while I pound into you.I’m going to make you fucking scream.”

Okay, then.

To be clear, I was completely onboard with this notion.I’d wanted him since the moment I spotted him yesterday, and the less-than-subtle hints Sunshine had fed me over the past week assured me we’d be compatible.In passing, I wondered just how much this dude shared with his employee, but part of me also sensed she was determining my suitability as a match.Well, she hadn’t been wrong.We were going to be a good match.

In bed, at least.

Except there wasn’t one in sight, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to drag him up to my apartment.Not only was the place a disaster area, but that felt too personal.This wasn’t about forming a relationship.This was about him getting inside me as soon as possible.

This time, when our gazes clashed, he advanced.

I retreated.Not to get away, but so I backed into the solid wall.I had a good four or five inches on Bookstore Dude—and another forty pounds of pure muscle—but the look on his face warned me he meant business.

He pressed his hands against my chest, anchoring me to the wall.As he raised his chin, I lowered mine.

Our gazes met and held.So many turbulent emotions swirled in those deep-blue irises.I read doubt—and that made me hesitate—but I also read determination.

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