Page 3

“Yes! At least sell him a record.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” We’re whispering back and forth as the man steps in behind Sienna, towering over her like a Viking back from war. He’s not only tall, but broad as well, with wide shoulders and tattoos streaking down his arms.

“I’m here about a record.”

“Okay,” I manage, trying to remember to breathe. “What kind of record are you looking for?”

“I emailed about the Fleetwood Mac album.”

My brows narrow as I try to wrap my head around this big, gruff guy settling in after a murder spree to listen toRumors.The whole vibe of that record screams emotional solitude, not what I’d expect for a guy like this, but I shouldn’t judge. I listen to heavy metal sometimes. I’m not sure anyone would guess that by looking at me.

“Oh, ugh, yeah.” I brush the crumbs off my shirt and reach back behind the counter, handing him the record. “Sorry, it’s been a weird morning. The record is in great condition, like new really.”

Why am I repeating myself?I already told him this through the email.

I watch his big, rough hand slide across the plastic coating, then pull the record from the sleeve. Thick silver rings catch the dim light. They’re worn like armor, a contrast to the delicate precision with which he handles the album.

Damn, he’s hot.He’s the kind of hot that the world bends around, like space is shifting to make room for him. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, and his eyes scan the record slowly and deliberately as though he’s looking for cracks.

Why am I staring?

Sienna has stepped away from the counter and gone to browsing records, though I see her glance up multiple timesto look his way. He’d be a good wedding guest for her. He’s definitely the rough and tough type she’s looking for.

“Where did you get this from?” the man asks, tucking the record back into the sleeve.

“A buyer out in Tennessee purchased it at an estate sale. The original owner was selling it after his wife died.”

He nods slowly, dragging his eyes up toward me. “That’s too bad. Natural causes I hope.”

“As far as I know.”

Why is he asking me this?Also,why do I feel like a teenager and the hottest boy in the school is talking to me?

It’s ridiculous! I’m twenty-seven, not thirteen, and this guy is a decade older than me… at least.What the hell is wrong with me?

He steps closer to the counter, bringing with him the scent of leather and motor oil, but there’s something darker beneath it. “I’ll take it.”

My eyes widen in surprise. He’s looked at something he’s actually going to buy.

“You mind if I look around for a second? I want to check out the other records you have. I’ve been looking for an old Black Sabbath album.”

“Oh, yeah!” I tuck around the counter, suddenly questioning the outfit I chose for today. It’s a black dress with an A-line cut that doesn’t do much for me, but it’s quick and easy. Usually that’s enough. “Of course, we have that album.” I avoid eye contact with Sienna as I pass through the bins toward the back, then pull the record up. “Here you go!”

He nods and holds the record in his hand. “Just checking your credibility.”

I slide their second album out from the shelf and hold it up. “How’s this for credibility?”

“Respectable.” His eyes flicker over the psychedelic album cover. “You’re getting cocky now. I like it.”

“Sabbath is the foundation of everything that came after this album. What’s your favorite track?”

“You’re bullshitting. There’s no way you’re listening to Black Sabbath.”

“Why not? I like all kinds of music.”