Page 139 of Will Bark for Pizza
Carlos lifted his gaze from the store’s laptop, adjusting his purple-rimmed glasses, and said, “Lotti looks like that when she’s fantasizing about Mateo.”
Lotti shrugged her shoulders, no hint of apology in her carefree smile. “It’s true. I do. Ooh! Are you writing his book yet?”
“Just started, actually.”
I never thought I’d utter those words about this particular book. I was convinced my ability to write anything more than a check had shriveled up and died. But after that mind-blowing orgasm, inspiration seemed to ignite. I went back to the farm and straight to my room, pulled out my laptop, and wrote as though the words possessed me.
Would this first chapter ever see the light of day? It was too early to tell. But the spark I felt at the keyboard was like an old friend welcoming me home. God, it felt good.
Maybe one of Mateo’s hidden talents in this book was the ability to give his mate magical orgasms.
“You sure it’s just Mateo?” Thelma asked, her playful tone more accusatory than curious.
“Have you picked a release date?” Lotti asked hopefully.
“Not yet.”
“You should announce one at the grand re-opening,” Carlos suggested.
Panic seized me, and my smile dropped.
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.
One rough chapter was a far cry from a finished book. I had no idea whether last night was a fluke or if the rest of the pages would fall into place at all. It was entirely possible I was high on orgasm energy and would never write chapter two.
Beckett can help with that.
“I bet I know who you’re thinking about,” Thelma said.
“Does anyone have ideas for our first window display?” The desperation to change the subject before Beckett’s name was dropped was palpable.
“I thought we agreed on a Diana Davenport display,” Carlos said.
“For the grand re-opening,” I answered. “But do we want to do something different for the soft launch?”
After some discussion and adjusting of our original timeline, we determined we needed two weeks before the inside of the store would open to the general public. That was the amount of time Dylann estimated was necessary to order the most recent releases and bestsellers and get them on the shelves. Until then, we’d continue occasional sidewalk sales.
“It’s that sexy handyman, isn’t it?” Lotti cooed.
“He has a name, you know,” Thelma said. “And he’s a general contractor, not a handyman.”
“Oh, I think he’s plenty handy,” Lotti went on, unbothered by Thelma’s corrections. “I bet Kira knows exactlyhowhandy.”
I nearly fumbled my water tumbler at the playful accusation. Oh, I knew all right. I knewverywell how handy Beckett Campbell could be. And yet, I was desperate to see what other talents he had. Particularly, ones with that tongue. What I didn’t understand was how all ofthemknew it. Was I that obvious? Was it written all over my face?
“I have some bad news,” Dylann said, emerging from the back office. She moved a pair of reading glasses from the bridge of her nose to the top of her head. “Brenda’s Book Nook is basically blacklisted from ordering books.”
The abrupt announcement caused a harsh shift in the air. Any fantasies I’d been playing in my mind went blank.
“From where?” I asked, a sinking sensation settling in my stomach.
“From damn near everywhere.” She marched up to the table and yanked a jelly donut from the box. “Fucking Margene.”
“We can’t order books?” I asked, hoping I heard her wrong. I had to have misheard her, because if we couldn’t order books, we didn’t stand a chance. No one would want to shop at our bookstore if we didn’t carry the latest releases. “Anybooks?”
“All of the publishers have cut us off,” sheexplained, pulling out a chair and plopping into it. Her heavy necklaces jangled in protest.
“But we’ve paid all of them. Aren’t we current now?”
