Is it not enough that a ride like that screams of wealth, but do they have to take what little real estate I have?
My old Honda jerks when I shift into park, the door slamming on my way out. I hurry toward the back to unlock the trunk and retrieve a box of used books. It’s heavy and pulls a grunt from me as I try not to fall over while closing the trunk.
I let out a grunt and head down the street to my storefront. With my eyes land on the Bugatti again, and I turn my nose up, pissed I now have to carry my things half a block versus the fifteen small steps it usually takes me to reach my door.
“What is even the point of a Bugatti?” I say to the wind with more attitude than necessary.
The bells chime, and I’m instantly surrounded by the smell of books. My employee, Greer, is behind the counter, ringing up a customer.
“Oh, here, let me help you with that,” the man says from over his shoulder and rushes to my aid.
He takes the box and carries it to the counter. He’s a regular, here at least once a month to stock up on books from his favorite authors.
“Thank you, Jerry. What are you picking up today?” I question to be polite.
“This one isn’t for me. My wife wanted the new Mafia romance by Tatum LaRose.” He shrugs.
“Yeah?” I raise my brows. “It’s really good. She’s going to love it.” I step behind the counter and prepare to unload the books and log them into our system.
“You’ve read it already? It came out like ten seconds ago,” he jokes.
I tilt my head to the side, unable to keep the smile from forming on my lips. “No, it came out a week ago, and we may or may not have gotten an ARC. But, that’s not the point.”
Jerry laughs and takes his bag from Greer. “See you ladies later.” He taps his knuckles on the counter and slowly inches away.
“You too, Jerry,” we say in unison.
The bell above the exit chimes and as if on cue, Greer turns to me, her long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. “Okay, what’s eating at you?” She places her hand on her hip.
I turn a book over in my hand then give Greer my attention. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not even nine-thirty yet, and you already have frown lines.”
“It’s that fucking Bugatti,” I exaggerate.
“Still.” Greer drops her hands at her sides.
“It’s like…I don’t get it,” I say with my shoulders hunched. “There is a big fucking sign; how hard is it to follow directions.” I slide over to the register and punch in the bar code from the books I brought in.
She nods. “I don’t even think he’s moved it.”
Stopping midway, I face Greer. “And who drives a car like that?” I snatch up the stack of paperbacks and step around my colleague, heading for the shelves. “I bet whoever it is, is compensating for something.”
Greer doesn’t respond, but I don’t expect her to. Instead, I continue my rant while filing the new inventory away alphabetically. “And you know what, he’s probably some old out-of-shape divorcé trying to get his groove back.”
Greer snickers. “I’m pretty sure men don’t get their groove back.”
I slouch and stare at her over my shoulder. “Shut up. You know what I mean. Who needs a car like that?”
Greer shakes her head and continues unpacking the box.
“Whatever,” I breathe out. “I just want my damn space back.”
“You might just get your chance.”
When I stare at her, she’s jutting her chin toward the window. I follow her gaze, my sight landing on the back of a man. He’s tall, his shoulders broad, and his hair appearing freshly cut. I open my mouth to speak but immediately swallow my words. A wave of frustration hits me again as I watch him on his phone without a care in the world.
I straighten my spine, glancing from him to the shelf I’m supposed to be stocking. Greer hums behind me as she does anytime she’s about to disagree with me. I lift my knuckle to the spot beneath my bottom lip, and shuffle around to try and convince myself whether confronting him would be a good idea.
“Yup, I’m doing this.” I point toward the ceiling and step around the display table.
“Noooo,” Greer drags out and rushes from behind the counter in an attempt to block my path. “No, no, no, no. Arloe, you know how you get. Just let it be. He’s about to move now. That’s something, right?”
I ignore her and open the door. His voice is the first thing I hear. It’s deep and radiating. His tone is stern, and with each forward stride, I get a better view of his profile. Not that it matters what he looks like, the only thing on my mind is getting him to move his car.
“Excuse me, you need to move your car.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me. Not even for a second, which only fuels my anger.
“I don’t care about your excuses, Iman,” the man snaps, and I flinch from the sharpness of his words. “Figure the shit out, and don’t call back until you’ve handled it. Unless you’d like to have a different kind of conversation.”
“Excuse me.” My voice is louder this time. When he still doesn’t answer me, I tap him. “Your vehicle is in my space.”
Finally, he glances over his shoulder at me, still holding his phone to his ear. He makes eye contact with me, a sideways grin pulling at his lips as he rakes his gaze from my face, down my frame, and back up.
“I-” I stutter, caught off guard by how attractive he is.
His stare is dark and pierces through me. I swallow to find the courage I had only a second ago. My words never come though, and all I can focus on is how deep his chocolatey orbs are. It doesn’t help that he licks his bottom lip, all the while never taking his eyes off me.
“Just handle it,” he says to the receiver and ends his call.
“Um…you can’t park here. The spot is mine,” I blurt, my words coming out harsh and laced with venom.
The stranger raises a brow at me and turns so that he’s fully facing me. “Is that so?”
I take in his attire, noticing that my assumption was all wrong. There’s nothing old and out of shape about this man. In fact, I can see his muscles through the crisp white button-up that stretches across his wide chest.
“Yeah.” I point to the sign next to his vehicle. “It clearly says Ever After Books.” I zip my spine straight, push my shoulders back, and silently dare him to protest.
He glances back at the sign, his grin suddenly replaced with a smirk. “Ah,” he grunts. “I guess it does,” he continues arrogantly.
“Yup, and it’s clear you can read, so maybe next time, use that ability and not take what doesn’t belong to you,” I quip.
He staggers back and shoves his hands into his pockets, then leans against his car. “Now, what would be the fun in that, amore?” He crosses one leg in front of the other and once again traces my frame with his eyes.
“I’m not your love. Now, I’d appreciate it if you refrain from occupying my space going forward.”
“What’s your name?” He changes the subject.
I frown. “None of your business.”
He chuckles. “Oh, come on, gorgeous. You’ve interrupted my call and are quite literally screaming at me. I don’t know about you, but I usually have to fuck a woman before she goes all crazy. So…” He pauses to wet his lips again. “I should at least know the name of the woman I’ve pissed off.”