Page 52 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

FORTY-ONE

KIRA

Next time.

Beckett implied there would be a next time , and it was making it impossible to focus on anything else. Including the sketch right in front of me with my rough ideas for a new store layout.

Had I ever had an orgasm I felt in my entire fucking body?

No.

Until last night, I didn’t think they were possible.

I’d written about them, convinced they were pure fiction.

I’d had orgasms before. Good ones, too. But until Beckett got hold of me, I had no idea what I was missing.

Every time I so much as glanced at the empty shelf where the travel section once lived, my entire body tingled from the inside out.

What happened last night couldn’t happen again.

We both knew that.

Yet he implied there would be a next time .

“You all right, dear?” Lotti asked, a knowing smile on her face that said I wasn’t wearing a blank expression.

“Fine,” I said. Or, I attempted to say. I had to clear my throat and try again. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, you are,” Thelma cackled, reaching for a donut on the community table we gathered around to discuss the changes. With the number of shelves that were total losses and the rest currently empty, we decided it was the perfect time to make some changes with the overall layout of the store.

“Do you think we should move the children’s section to the front?” I asked.

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 exactly how handy.”

I nearly fumbled my water tumbler at the playful accusation.

Oh, I knew all right. I knew very well 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 of them knew 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. “ Any books?”

“All of the publishers have cut us off,” she explained, 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?”

“Too little, too late, I’m afraid. Not to mention, Margene was apparently selling new releases days before they came out.

Some of those publishers are still quite pissed about it.

” Dylann wore a defeated expression, one that caught around the table.

“Ingram closed our account, so that’s been a whole other mess. ”

“Ingram?” It sounded familiar, but Lila would be more familiar with it than me.

“It’s the major book distributor,” Dylann explained. “If we had to, we could order solely from them for now. Focus on rebuilding our relationships with publishers over time. But it means our profit margin will be slimmer. Our terms were definitely better working directly with the publishers.”

“Still sounds better than not being able to order books at all,” Lotti said.

“I’m working with a rep to set up a new account, but it might take a few days to get past the red tape,” Dylann said. “We might have to push the soft opening.”

I sank my teeth into a glazed donut, but the sweet treat did little to ease the sour pit in my stomach.

The longer we pushed the soft opening, the longer it would be before we had any notable cash flow.

In the meantime, the bills would continue to stack up.

Everyone was currently working for free, but that couldn’t last. I wouldn’t allow it to last.

“What can we do while this gets sorted out?” Carlos asked .

“We can figure out the new layout,” Thelma said, nodding to my sketch. “That’ll give us an idea of how many bookshelves we’re going to need to order.”

“Or build,” Lotti suggested. “Think Beckett could help us with that?”

I almost said no, but everyone was looking at me so damn expectantly. As though they knew if I asked, he would say yes in a heartbeat.

“I’ll talk to him,” I finally said. “But let’s research all our options. Beckett’s got his own business to run.”

“Maybe he just needs some extra incentive,” Lotti said, wriggling her eyebrows.

“Lotti!” Carlos scolded.

“Just ask him for a favor,” Lotti said. “It’s up to you whether you want to return it.”

Beckett did owe me a favor, from the night of beating him at darts. But now that he gave me one of his potent full-body orgasms, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to use the favor on something so . . . boring.

“Down, Lotti!” Thelma chided.

“What else do we need to figure out?” I asked.

“Updating this godawful decor Margene brought into the store,” Dylann insisted.

“I propose a bonfire to burn anything and everything associated with Satan’s mistress,” Thelma said.

“I second the motion,” Carlos agreed.

The table erupted with plans of heading to Mexico—a popular topic of conversation these days.

While they argued about the best way to hunt down a fugitive, I studied the sketch I’d made of a new layout.

One that was similar to Mom’s since Margene basically rearranged the entire store and obliterated some of my favorite parts.

I added circles for cushy chairs, squares for dog beds, and designated an area for authors to set up signing tables.

The reading nook was also high on the list.

I chewed on the top of my pen as I reconsidered Carlos’ earlier suggestion to announce a release date for Mateo’s book during our grand re-opening. I didn’t even have a title yet.

I could hear Beckett’s voice in my head: Sometimes, the things that scare us the most are the ones most worth doing.

“Oh, what the hell,” I mumbled.

“What’s that, dear?” Lotti asked.

“Nothing.”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up my phone and sent a text to Lila.