Page 2 of Don’t Fall For Your Ex-Boyfriend's Brother
I nod, happy for the change. “I’ll hire out. Trust me,” I laugh. “You don’t want me baking anything.”
“I do love a good macaron.” Arlene says, and then launches into one of her stories about her travels to France.
Again, I’m thankful for the change in subject, but it gets me thinking. Is there really something wrong with me because I’ve never had good sex? If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never even had a man make me orgasm before.
It’s silly, I know, but it’s the god’s honest truth.
A truth that haunts me late at night.
Maybe it’s just the type of woman I am. Maybe there’s something physically wrong with me. I can have orgasms just fine on my own, but never with the help of a man.
Maybe that’s just how my life will pan out.
After another fifteen minutes of talk about exploring Paris, and the women thinking it would be a good idea for me to travel to France to take on a French lover, the meeting ends, and the women leave.
It’s late.
Technically my store doesn’t close for another half hour, but I decide to close it down a bit early so I can head to my apartment above the shop and start reading next month’s book. I like to be ahead.
I clean up the paper cups from the wine that June brought to the club meeting and after a few minutes I find myself gazing out the bay window at the front of my shop.
There’s a bright star smack dab in the middle of the night sky, and I close my eyes. “I wish I could meet a man who could rock my world. Who can give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I’ve never had a man give me an orgasm, but I want there to be somebody out there who can.” I make my wish and then there’s a loud crash behind me.
I spin around, terrified of what I might find.
And it’s definitely the person who I least expect staring back at me. Big green eyes drink me in, and chills skate over my body.
Why am I having this reaction?
“Tripp Atwood?” Oh god. Did he hear me? “How long have you been here? Did you hear me?”
Please say no. Please say no.
He rubs at the back of his neck casually. “I may have heard a little something, or other.”
My cheeks flame red hot. “Get out,” I scream at him.
“Wait…I,” he stutters, holding up a book. “I’d like to buy this first, please?” His voice is calm, collected, and a hell of a lot cooler than how I feel right now.
“Um, okay,” I say, hesitant. “Follow me.” I head in the direction of the cash register in the back of the store.
I’ve known Tripp Atwood for a while. I dated his older brother, Brock. I’ve met Tripp a few times, but we’ve never been close. Never really had a lengthy conversation, except for that one day at his parent’s house. I can barely even remember what we talked about.
He follows quietly behind me, and I know I have to broach the subject on what he overheard. Maybe I can tell him I was just joking.
I head behind the counter, holding my hand out for the book. “Listen, about my wish,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You’ve never had a man get you off?”
My eyes widen, and I find myself momentarily speechless. “Umm,” I stammer, struggling to find the right words.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with a playful glint and a casual smile that suggests he's not judging me at all.
“It’s a long story,” I manage to say as I ring up his book. He hands me his credit card with a nonchalant air. I glance at the book’s cover and notice the title: How to Publish a Book? My eyebrow arches in surprise.
He shrugs, his demeanor relaxed. “Yeah, I’ve, uh, been writing.”
“Really?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “I thought you worked at the Atta Boy Brewery with your brothers.”
He gives another casual shrug, and I take a moment to really look at him. Tripp Atwood, with his ruggedly handsome features, is definitely packing some muscles. His well-defined arms are visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and there's something undeniably attractive about his casual confidence. The way he stands, relaxed yet assertive, only adds to his allure.
Am I really checking out my ex-boyfriend’s brother?