Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (20 page)

The bookstore was as perfect as the rest of the place.

Small, quaint and cozy, it was tucked off the back of the building. If somebody had asked her to design the perfect bookstore, this just might be it. Lots of dark wood, soaring shelves that held the extra stock, and little book nooks tucked into every available space. There was plenty of light, and during the day even more would pour in through all the windows.

She found herself eying the little seat built into the space under a staircase and felt a thread of envy moving through her. “I want this,” she said. “I want just this. That’s it. I’m remodeling, just so I can have this.”

Behind her, Trey chuckled.

When he slid his arms around her, it felt perfectly natural to lean back against him. “They’ll have people coming in here just to read,” she said.

“Read, and hopefully buy.” He pressed his lips to her neck.

“You going to sign here?” Turning in his arms, she tipped her head back so she could see him, and when he winced, she grinned.

“I . . .” His face slowly went red and he blew out a rough breath. “I honestly haven’t decided.”

“Why not? You did fine at the book fair.”

“I know.” He let go of her with one last, lingering stroke of her sides and then he stepped away to pace edgily. “That just felt . . . different. I don’t know. It’s easier to flick the author part of me on when I’m not here.”

Running her tongue across her teeth, she skimmed her eyes across the bookstore. Mitch had let them inside and then left, saying he’d be back in a bit. The man seemed determined to leave them alone as much as possible, she’d noted. “I’m going to assume that you mean
here
as in Norfolk . . . not this bookstore.”

“Yeah.
Here
 . . . home. It just feels weird. I like not worrying about screwing up and saying something stupid if I bump into somebody. If I start being author me, that kind of goes away.” He shrugged and shot her a grimace. “That probably sounds stupid.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It sounds like you just want to have a part of your life that stays separate . . . yours. But Trey, people here already know who you are. If you say or do something stupid, it won’t matter if you are in your home space or not.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Do you know there are a few pages on Pinterest? Trey sightings?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“Yep. Some locals who grab pictures of you when you’re out around town—the post office, grocery store. That sort of thing. You aren’t anonymous here, even if you want to be.” She watched the expressions on his face flit from surprise to frustration to resignation. She decided she wasn’t going to mention that a few people she knew kept up with those
Trey sightings
. Finally, he just sighed and shook his head and she reached out, touched his cheek. “I guess that’s not making it any easier for you to think about doing anything here, huh?”

“I’m not thinking about it.” He shoved his hands through his hair. The thick, gold-streaked strands of brown immediately fell back into place, but he barely noticed. “I’m not thinking about it tonight at all.”

“Okay.” She shoved off the wall and moved toward him. “Seems fair. I want to . . .”

She stopped and studied the book dump tucked at the end of the aisle. The section was labeled
Romance
and the book, with its spring green cover and the mostly nude female torso, was very familiar.

“Looks like they don’t care if romance writers play in their pool,” she murmured, reaching out for one of the L. Forrester books. She started to flip through it and then stared at the signature on the title page. Just below the block font was the bold, vivid scrawl—the exact same scrawl she had in her book, although hers was personalized. “She
signed
these.”

Trey stopped at her elbow. “There are quite a few signed books in here,” he said. He gestured to another display. “Those are signed, too.”

“But she doesn’t
do
this. She doesn’t do interviews, blog tours, nothing.” Frowning, she put the book down and picked up another, scowling at the signature.

Trey picked up a book and flipped through before putting it down. “You a reader?”

“Of
her
? Hell, yes. I love them. She makes me laugh and . . .” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, if I’m ever reading one and you’re around, I’d want privacy.”

The back of Trey’s neck went red even as his eyes flashed hot.

“That a fact?” He picked a book back up. “Maybe they’ll sell me one early then.”

“I have one.” She laughed a little and then went back to studying the signature, then the book dump. “I wonder how they got her to come in here and sign.”

“That’s not necessary.” Trey gestured at another display. “He doesn’t live here either. If the publisher makes arrangements and the author is okay with it, they can get signed books from the author. It just has to be coordinated.”

“Well, so much for that idea. I was hoping Mitch or Guff knew her. I was going to press for clues.” She sighed and put the book down. “The information on her website can’t even be called
sketchy
. It’s more like she thought about being sketchy and then took an eraser and cleaned up most of the sketch before she let anything go up.”

“Some people are kind of big on their privacy.” Trey shrugged.

“But . . .” Then she stopped and put
Exposing the Geek Billionaire
down. “Never mind.”

He slid her a look. “But what?”

“She’s good. Damn good. I guess I just don’t understand why somebody that talented wouldn’t want to do interviews and that kind of thing.”

“Maybe for the same reason I don’t much like doing book signings.” He cocked a brow and put his copy of the book down, too. “Some authors just aren’t all that good at being social, or they feel weird talking about their work—so weird they can’t get past it. Others have different reasons.”

“Yeah. Fine.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever.”

Then she cut around him. “What books do they have of yours? I should probably read a couple of them.”

There was a faint pause. And then he said, “Read a couple?”

She shot him a wide grin over her shoulder. “Oh, relax. I’ve read two of your books. I just figure I’ll read a couple more. I normally go for something a little less . . . depressing, though.”

“Gee, thanks.” He gave her a sidelong look and then jerked his head to the side. Something about the look he’d given her told her he’d had this conversation before. Then he confirmed it by saying, “You do realize that dating me doesn’t make my books required reading.”

Dating me
 . . .

“Dating you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “So . . . does that mean we’re doing this again, Mr. Barnes?”

He caged her in, up against the end of one of the bookshelves. She felt the wood against her back, the heat of him against her front and her heart started to race.

“I think you’re the deciding vote on that, Ms. Bliss. You already know what I want.”

*   *   *

She smelled so good.

It was a scent he wanted to lose himself in.

Trey wanted to lose himself in her altogether really. Then
she turned in his arms, a smile on her lips and he felt that strike him square in the heart.

Feeling a little dazed, he wrapped his arms around her. “So what’s the decision?” he asked, the words sounding a lot rougher, a lot more demanding than he’d intended.

Say yes
—

“I’m definitely considering it.”

“Okay.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth. Then he let go. “Just so you know, I make excellent arguments. If you need me to convince you . . .”

A bubble of laughter escaped her. His lips twitched at the sound and he pressed his face against her neck as she laughed. Her arms curled around him, one hand sliding into his hair. “Well, now. You know . . . maybe that won’t be necessary.”

He lifted his head.

She met his eyes and lifted a hand. She touched a finger to his lips and traced, following the line of his mouth. With a far-off look in her eyes, she murmured, “I think it’s time for me to stop considering and just enjoy the ride.” Now her gaze cleared and she focused on him. “I’d like to see you again. It’s not always easy to work out—I don’t usually let Neeci go to a sitter. It’s me or Mama Ang, my aunt.”

“I’m a parent, too.” Stroking his hand up her side, Trey leaned in and rubbed his lips over hers. “You know, Clayton talks about Neeci non-stop. I think the two of them bonded pretty much from the get-go.”

“Didn’t they?” She leaned back and he loosened his hold enough so that she could rest against the shelf behind her. The smile on her face widened and her eyes glinted with humor. “I swear, there are times that I hear nothing else. It’s
Clay this
and
Clay that
and by the way . . .”

Ressa grimaced and looked away, although she shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “She . . . ah . . .” She licked her lips. “Neeci wants an autograph. I figured I should tell you soon before she sees you at pickup or something.”

“She wants my autograph?” Confused, he studied her face. Neeci was seriously
not
his audience. Not for a good ten years or so.

“Nooooo . . .” Ressa drew the word out. “She wants your
little brother’s autograph. She kind of heard that Sebastian Barnes was your brother, and. . . . well, um . . .”

“Ah.” Now he started to laugh. “I can manage that. I’ll make Clay ask him. Seb will probably get a kick out of it—he’ll bend over backward for Clay.”

He reached up and pressed his finger to her lower lip. “Hey, if you’re not busy tomorrow, why don’t you bring her over?”

Ressa blinked. “What?”

“To the house. You and Neeci come over. They can play together . . . and one of my brothers dropped into town. You can meet him.”

“Please tell me it’s Zach. I’ve seen some of the tattoos he’s done on his website.” She looked delighted now.

“No.” He rolled his eyes and tipped his head back. “People always want to meet Seb or Zach—I have four brothers, you know. Those knuckleheads are only two of them.”

She laughed. “You jealous there, gorgeous?”

“You coming over?” he countered, leaning in and nipping her lower lip. “And no. I’m not jealous. I got used to people asking about them—well, Zach, before I was even five. Are you coming over?”

*   *   *

It had taken more determination than Trey had thought he had not to push for more than a quick,
almost
chaste kiss when he’d dropped Ressa off at her place.

If he’d lingered more than a minute, he would have gone back to kiss her again—and he’d told her that—as he pulled away. The look she’d given him made him all too aware she wouldn’t mind if he’d done that. Over and over. But he needed to get home.

He was already pushing it, time-wise, and it didn’t matter that Travis was there to help out. He needed to get Amy home, get to bed—or maybe climb into a cold shower.

He almost relished the fact that he
needed
the cold shower, although the ten minute drive was nowhere near enough to cool his blood. Of course, the fact that he kept replaying that
almost
-chaste kiss . . . or picturing Ressa in her dress, peeling it off of her, none of that helped level him out.

Pulling his truck into the driveway, he noted that Clayton’s light was off. He was in bed, sound asleep. Just as he should be, which meant Amy had been in charge, not Travis.

The door opened before he’d cleared the steps and he saw Travis there, his face looking even more haggard than before. Trey shoved the alarm down. Sooner or later, that son of a bitch was going to tell him what was going on and, if he didn’t, Trey would take drastic measures. He’d fight dirty and just tell Mom.

Travis might be able to bullshit his way through anything, but if Denise Barnes realized that Travis was bullshitting
her
, the man was going to suffer the torments of the damned.

But for now . . . Trey stopped at the top of the steps and rocked back on his heels. “You survived.”

“Piece of cake.” Travis shrugged and glanced behind him. “Amy, he’s here if you’re ready to go.”

Amy appeared less than a minute later, her eyes heavy, a smile on her face. She barely glanced at Travis, smiled at Trey. “Everything go okay?” he asked.

She nodded and hefted her bag higher up on her shoulder when it started to slide down. “I don’t know how much I was needed, but thanks anyway. The money comes in handy.”

“You were needed. If I let Travis be in charge, then Clayton would still be awake, he wouldn’t have had a bath and dinner might have included something like pizza and chocolate, followed by chocolate brownies and chocolate ice cream. With chocolate cookies for a bedtime snack.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Travis asked, his voice mild.

“You’re not a five-year-old boy who’ll wake up sick to his stomach.” Trey just shook his head and stepped aside so Amy could head to the car. “Let’s get you home.”

As he climbed in, he noticed that Travis had made himself comfortable on one of the Adirondack chairs on the far side of the porch. He didn’t look like he was in any hurry to move, either.