Page 32 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

“Fine. But don’t mention the party while you’re asking for mercy, since she doesn’t actually know about it yet.

” When the silence of the bookstore grows heavy, and that silence taps at the side of my brain, I snap my lips closed and angle away from the wall.

Just like I knew I would, I lock eyes with the book club bitches and send them scrambling.

They spin and whip books open, plopping back into their seats and juggling coffee cups.

“She’ll know soon.” I roll my eyes, bringing my attention back to Booker. “Since the gossip vines here are more active than anyone’s sex life. In fact, she probably heard about it before I even thought it.”

He snorts.

“But if, by some miracle, she’s too tired and hasn’t been paying attention, I’d like to keep this a surprise for as long as possible.”

“My lips are sealed,” he promises, sitting back again so the groan of his chair announces his movement. “It’s too bad you’re not here for Rome, Fox. That’s our tradition.” He pauses before adding, “It’s your dream.”

“It’s really inconvenient that Alana had sex when she did, knowing my butt had plans with those business class seats. She’s rude and inconsiderate.”

“Tell her we said so,” he chuckles. “What are you up to today? Tipped any cows?”

“Not this week. But it’s only Monday, and my schedule is wide open. I’m working at the bookstore today. It’s my first day alone, and I haven’t broken anything, so I guess I’m off to a good start.”

Well… except for a shower rail . My stomach tumbles with remembrance. With nerves and a strong side-ache tinged with desire. None of which I wish to experience while on the phone with my boss .

“Sounds like you have a promising career in small-town bookstores if Gable or Gains ever tire of you.”

“And I note that you didn’t mention Hemingway growing bored. That guy is a total puppy dog. He won’t ever fire me.”

He laughs. “Not even when you accidentally set the office sprinklers off and destroy tens of thousands of dollars in technology.” He reaches across with a grunt I know too well and grabs a cup of coffee. Next, he’ll sip and ahhhh . “We learned a lesson that day, didn’t we, Ms. Tatum?”

“Yes. The lesson was not to light too much incense in the office, and that hot yoga is better left for actual yoga studios. But ya know what? We live and we learn.”

He snorts. “We sure do.”

The bookstore bell jingles above the front door, silencing the horde of old women—and one man—and announcing a newcomer. And since the horde remains silent, I know whoever has arrived is not just another old bitty sliding in to join the gossip.

So I push away from the wall and wander toward the front.

“Sounds like you’ve gotta go,” Booker murmurs. “Also, if you ever install a doorbell here at our office, I may turn homicidal. You’ve been warned.”

“I’ve heard it approximately thirty-seven million times today already.

I swear, I’m about to shove it straight up a cow’s bum.

” I come to the end of the book stacks and step into view with my customer service smile firmly in place, but then I skid to a stop and tilt my head to the side, taking in the fighter who turns with a hat pressed over his chest.

He’s a fighter. But not one of the ones I know.

He dips his chin and half-bows. “Ma’am.”

“Woah,” Booker exclaims in my ear. “He sounds like an actual cowboy. Like, the real kind out in Texas.”

I study the guy’s wide-brimmed hat and the buckle on his belt.

The tight denim jeans hugging thick thighs and the I know I’m handsome smirk I know he uses as often as he can.

“I’ll talk to you later, Booker. Be good.

Reschedule Rome.” Then, pulling the phone from my ear and ending the call, I slip the device into my back pocket.

“I know you’re a fighter because you have broad shoulders and thick arms.”

Pleased, he looks down at himself. “Is that how you can tell?”

“That, and the Love that’s where the money tends to gather.”

“Solid tips.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and tilts his head toward the back. “You want me to take a look while I’m here? Give you a quick estimate on what I think you need, how long it’ll take, and how much it’ll cost you?”

“Quick?” I check the time and cast a look at the watchful ladies taking notes and preparing to gossip all over town.

Then I spy the only other customer actually looking at buying a book.

Finally, I bring my attention back to Cliff and nod.

“I have about two minutes. Oh, and I don’t know if you heard, but we’re having a little party at the gym in a few weeks.

” I dash around the counter and lead the way, since ‘ abandoned her post and was way too distracted by personal business ’ is bound to be a performance evaluation delivered to Alana by the watchful committee of Plainview enthusiasts.

I’m not afraid of being fired— ha! Alana wouldn’t dare —but I’d rather she didn’t receive anything less than stellar while she’s working through postpartum hormones.

“Chris already knows about the party. I don’t think Tommy does yet.

” I march up the stairs and push through the apartment door, stepping aside to let Cliff through.

“I’m holding it at the gym. It would mean a lot if you came to celebrate Alana and the baby. ”

“I’ll be there.” He swaggers—true cowboy style—into the bathroom and frowns as my ‘ I started demo already ’ lie frays at the seams. “What kind of gift does a man bring to one of those events?”

“Uh… you could probably bring her cookies.”

Curious, he inches back and eyes me across the room. “Cookies?”

“Mmhm. Especially cookies with oats in them. They’re good for her milk production.”

“Oh, well…” Blushing, he ducks his head back into the bathroom and takes out his phone.

To write notes, maybe. Or to snap a couple of pictures.

“I wanna help her, Ms. Tatum, but I’m not sure that’s an appropriate gift from another man.

Tommy’s my friend, and I don’t relish the idea of him smashing my skull into the ground when he finds out I’m influencing her boobs… positive or not.”

Coward. “Fine. You could get diapers. Buy them a box of the next size up, so when the baby grows overnight, and they’re not prepared for that spurt, they’ll be all set. ”

“Sounds perfect.” He takes a picture. Then another. A third. Then, pulling back, his eyes swing to mine. “And just to confirm, what size is she now? And what size is the next size up?”