Page 24 of A Boy Is a Gun: Part II
“Or I could stomp on the floor?”I shrug.
He smirks.“But you won’t.”
No, I won’t.Because this man is tempting me in ways I’m not ready to admit.“I don’t even know your name?”
“Jiro,” he holds out his hand, and I shake it.It’s warm, soft, and I just know he gives amazing massages.“And you are?”
I blink the thought out of my head before my mouth becomes obscene.“Taylor.I own Fresh Espresso,” I say, backing toward my door, keys in hand, “welcome to the building.”
“I’ve been here a year.”He smiles with a beautiful smile.
“Oh.”I blink.“Guess I’ve been too distracted.I only moved in a few months ago.”
His smile softens just a little.“Well, I’m glad I finally made the cut.”He starts to turn away, but stops.“And Taylor?”he adds, voice lower and sexier now.
I hope my cheeks aren’t too obvious with embarrassment and cheese.“Yeah?”
“If you ever need something...sugar, flour, a strong pair of hands?I’m just one floor down.”He winks at me.
I swallow the smile that threatens to give too much away.“Noted.”I slip inside and close the door behind me, but I don’t move.I just stand there with my back against it, heartbeat hammering like I just ran a marathon.
Because Jiro?Jiro is a problem.And I have a habit of collecting those.
Four
Cameron
Makayla squeezes myhand as we walk up the front steps like she’s trying to reassure me—or herself.She’s humming under her breath, hips swinging, hair curled just enough to sayI tried, but not too hard.
“I’m just saying,” she says, glancing at me, “if my dad tries to size you up, flex back.He respects that alpha shit.”
“And if your mother offers sweet tea?”I ask.
“Drink it.Compliment her earrings.And don’t mention politics.”She nods quickly.“Or the Devil’s Lettuce.”
I know I’m in the back country woods if they’re referring to weed like that.I nod.“Duly noted.”
