The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(3)

“May I please have that back?” I asked, trying to keep my voice polite. The panic rose through, though.

“So you do see me.” He shot me an amused look before reading from the book. “Yeuk and Gragol thrust their thick, monstrous members into Lady Nicoletta in tandem. Her cries of pleasure and delight echoed throughout the mountains—”

Oh my god.

“Wyatt.” I reached again for the book, but he turned away from me.

His eyebrows shot up and I was close enough to see how gray his eyes were. “You even know my name.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I know your name. Now, give me the book.”

“Lady Nicoletta’s feminine cavern began to quake with the force of her pleasure—”

I grabbed for the book again, brushing his arm and practically hugging him from behind. My fingers made contact with the book, and I snatched it away before straightening up. My face was on fire once again.

I cleared my throat and set the book back on the pile. “Something I can help you with?”

“I’m here for the orc erotica.”

I gave him a flat look and he returned it with a lazy, amused grin. No doubt, he could see how red my face was.

“Elizabeth asked me to pick her book up for her. She’s in Victoria until this evening and wanted to start it tonight. She said you told her it was in this morning.”

Victoria was the nearest city, a three-hour drive away. Wyatt’s mother, Elizabeth, a warm and funny woman, had ordered in a historical romance I had recommended the month before. It had been on back-order from the publisher for a few weeks.

I located the book on the shelf behind me where we kept the special orders and handed it to him. “She’s already paid.”

“Great.” His gaze skimmed me, and I felt naked.

This was the difference between hot people like Thérèse and Wyatt, and myself. I peeked at people around bookshelves, shot quick glances when they weren’t looking. Wyatt and Thérèse stared openly, with zero shame or embarrassment.

One side of Wyatt’s mouth hitched. “Thanks, Hannah.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard him say my name. We’d gone to the same elementary school and the same high school, and now we both lived in our tiny coastal town of Queen’s Cove as adults, and not once had he said my name. The guy didn’t notice me most of the time because he was out surfing and I was here, in this musty old bookstore my mom had opened when I was a baby.

The memory of his hand on my lower back seared into my mind. Wyatt and I were the witnesses at Avery’s wedding last year. She married Wyatt’s brother, Emmett. When we signed the marriage certificate, Wyatt’s hand came to my lower back and he nudged me forward with a wink.

I still shivered, thinking about how warm his hand had been on my back, even through the fabric of my dress. The quick, roguish grin he had flashed me while I stood, mouth hanging open.

And now he was here in my old bookstore, standing shirtless with all his muscles and damp hair.

“You can’t be shirtless in here,” I blurted out. “It’s a health hazard.”

He raised an amused eyebrow. “A health hazard.”

My face heated and I said the first thing that came to mind. “You could get hair in the books.”

What?

“I could get hair… in the books,” he repeated, rolling his lips to hide a smile.

“Yep. Chest hair.”

He snorted and I wanted to sink into this ugly carpet from the nineties.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be going.” He turned and headed to the door, his network of back muscles moving as he walked. “Let me know if you find any chest hairs, I’ll come get them.”

He disappeared out the door and I could breathe again.

I spent the next few minutes clearing space in the romance section for the orc erotica. The romance section was growing and took up more shelves than crime and thrillers. That thought made me smug. The previous year, the romance and erotica industry had made double what crime and thrillers had made. Romance novels accounted for half our measly sales.

I wished we could only sell romance novels, but my dad wouldn’t like that. He didn’t have anything against romance novels themselves, he just didn’t want to change anything about the store. The store was my mom’s, and if we changed it, well, that was practically spitting on her grave.

A notification pinged on the store email, and I woke the computer up to check it.

My heart stopped.

Liya’s paycheck payment had bounced. There hadn’t been enough money in the account last night. My stomach knotted itself over and over as I rushed to transfer money from my savings back into the store account. She hadn’t said anything today so maybe she hadn’t noticed yet. I transferred her the amount manually and prayed she wouldn’t notice the first failed payment.

I guess I wouldn’t be taking a salary for the foreseeable future.

Disappointment bled into my stomach and I pressed my mouth into a tight line, scrolling through the accounts. My dad owned the building so there was no mortgage to pay, and we could thank the low property prices in Queen’s Cove in the nineties for that, because there was no way we could afford it today. Utilities, Liya’s salary, taxes, fees for our credit card system, they added up to a total which exceeded our sales.