Page 16 of Filthy Savage
“Great. I love you too.”
I tap the end call button and crawl up the sofa to get to my feet, hanging on to the wall to support my wobbly legs. My gaze flies to the clock. Nine in the morning. Perfect. More than enough time to get rolling. With an hour to spare, I neaten up the place, toss the wine bottles under the sink, and head to my bedroom to get ready. Because what can be more fun than being hungover on a Sunday at my place of work, surrounded by more single women, families and kids than I know what to do with?
* * *
For the firsttime in a while, I’m counting down the minutes to closing time. The library sale has been a busy event. Patrons have been in and out since we opened, which is perfect for the library, but my head’s still pounding, my eyes are sore, and my feet are killing me from all the walking and standing around. Thankfully, in less than an hour I can go home and relax. I organize the last few remaining batches of books on the two plastic folding tables devoted to fiction. I resist the urge to stretch out right here on top of this table for a nap. Instead, I straighten my vintage Zac Posen leather skirt and return to the cash register.
A pair of large, rough hands places a thick encyclopedia and a tray with two cups of Desert Java coffee on the counter in front of me.
“This looks interesting. I think I’ll get it.”
My eyes crawl up from the items to those hands. Past the familiar bulging, inked up forearms and biceps, above those broad shoulders, my eyes meet a grinning Axe. He pushes the motorcycle encyclopedia closer to me. Immediately, a stress headache takes over a spot near my temples.
“You again,” I groan.
“Good evening to you too.” Axe taps against the checkout counter and crosses his arms. God, he has delicious forearms.
I pick up the encyclopedia to ring it in and know it’s not a coincidence he’s here today. He’s here for me. Trying to tamp down the urge to smile, I catch myself admiring the finely cut planes of his cheekbones, then stop myself. No, he’s not getting any smiles or friendly comments, not after what he did.
“Don’t you have anything better to do today?” I huff out. “The book is seven dollars.”
He reaches into his pocket, eyes piercing mine as he retrieves his wallet. “Here you go, and you’re welcome. One of these coffees is for you. Just the way we like it.”
I clear my throat and wrap my fingers around the cup, taking it from the tray. “That was a thoughtful gesture. Though, how did you know I work here? Or that I’d be working today?”
“I saw you that morning,” he answers. “And I was grabbing coffee just now when I saw the book sale was on.”
“It’s a bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
“That’s why I’m buying the outdated piece of crap encyclopedia,” he explains, giving me a wink.
“Well, thanks for your patronage.”
“Anytime.” He hands over a ten-dollar bill, studying me. “How was your evening after I left?”
What a way to rub it in. I snatch the money and get him his change. “What the hell do you care?” I whisper under my breath so only he will hear it. “Look, as you can see behind you, there’s a line forming, so how about you collect your change, and take your exciting new book elsewhere?”
“Sure,” he says, and that cocky smirk lifts his lips again. “See you later, maybe.”
I nod, not quite trusting my voice.
The last few minutes of my shift pass slowly, more so with Axe still perusing the sales tables. By then, the lineups have all but disappeared, and my colleagues have begun to pack up items and fold tables, wrapping up for the evening. Twenty minutes stretch into twenty years with Axe’s gaze pinned on me as I neaten up. What the hell is he waiting for? No way in hell am I giving him another chance to get me all wound up for just one orgasm.
Pattie-Jean, my friend from Archives, offers to close out the till while I put the remaining books into the surplus storage room at the other end of the building. As I roll the cart down the wide middle aisle, feeling for my set of keys to unlock the storage room door, Axe falls into step beside me.
“Need some help before I leave?” he asks.
“I’ve had enoughhelpfrom you, thank you very much,” I snap. I’m so unnerved that he’s still around, it takes me a few extra moments shove the key in and unlock the damn door. I push the cart to the back of the small room, and am not surprised or impressed to find that he’s followed me inside.
“You don’t sound too convinced of that,” Axe says over my shoulder.
I spin around to face him. “Listen, Axe Voltaire or whatever your name is. No one asked you to come sniffing around me, all right? Whatever mind games you’re into, they’re not working on me.”
All he does is take one step toward me, and I’m back in his enticing snare, hands on his biceps, pressing up on my tiptoes to meet his awaiting kiss.
