Jen and I look to each other in horror—there’s no chance she’s in on whatever ruse is at play, or she’s an incredible actress. Across the room, a book flies off the shelf and we both only manage to see it in our periphery. Just like at the bar, I can’t tear my eyes from her. There’s a gravitational pull I’ve never felt before, and I’m less interested in the possessed book than I am in the woman in front of me.

  “We should see what fell,” I offer.

  “We should.” Jen’s chest rises and falls, the urge to reach out and touch her is becoming increasingly unbearable.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “It could be important?”

  Jen’s lips tilt up. “It could.”

  A charge of electricity sings through my body, still unable to look away. “Two of Cups, Two of Cups,” I repeat quietly to myself.

  “Tarot?” Jen breaks the spell we’re under by looking to the fallen book. “I don’t know anything about it, but I picked out a few magical themed books for Halloween to have for tourists or teens who saw The Craft for the first time.” Moving to the book she picks it up.

  “Was there tarot mentioned in any of them?

  “Fuck if I know, but I figured someone would be wanting to try out some witchy shit… What the hell?” She holds it up. “Tarot for the Naughty Witch. I did not order this book.”

  As she thumbs through the pages, I move closer and glance over her shoulder. “Is there anything about Two of Cups or Four of Wands?”

  “Should be, right?” she laughs. “Let’s see… Two of Cups is supposed to symbolize staying together. Four of Wands is…”

  “Is what?”

  She claps the book shut. “No, no, no. We are not doing this.”

  “For fuck’s sake, what is it?” I snatch the book from her and she rubs her hand down her face as I stumble upon it. “So, what? I’m supposed to move in? We get a mid-size SUV and a sperm donor?”

  “This isn’t funny,” she attempts to command but fails miserably as she bursts out in laughter.

  “I am in town for one day, and your friend who is tricking us wants us to play house? Are you even into women? Or did you just invite me here because I’m an author?”

  “What?” Jen snaps. “I didn’t even know who you were until you introduced yourself. I saw you at the bar and⁠—”

  “And saw an easy target for your haunted bookstore ploy?”

  “No! Nothing like that. You want the truth? I wasn’t thinking. I saw you and… Fuck, Tara, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I just acted. All of this?” She gestures around us. “I don’t know what the fuck it is. I have a mess to clean up before my grand opening, and an old ghost woman is shouting nonsense at me. Meanwhile, all I can think about is you—the woman standing in front of me who probably wants to have me committed at this point.”

  I’m stunned into silence; she can’t be serious. Could Greta be behind this? Last I heard, she was shacking up with two men, taking ‘sharing is caring’ to a whole other level.

  Her emerald eyes are earnest. “I know you want to leave, but I can’t get the door open. You’re welcome to stay upstairs in my room while I get the store cleaned up. As soon as the rain passes, I’ll break a window and you’ll be free to go.”

  I take a small step closer and hand her the book with a smile I can’t hide. “Or, we could play along? Find out if the ghost is a good witch or a bad witch?”

  “You believe in this nonsense?” She wags the book in front of her. “Fortune telling and wizard shit?”

  “No, but it’s probably just a friend pranking us. Neither of us are going anywhere, so why not make the best of it, eh?” I shrug. “Besides, I have no plans for the next twenty-four hours. Maybe it’ll inspire a paranormal romance I can release next year.”

  “What if we’re wrong, and it’s not someone being a cheeky cunt? What if my shop is actually haunted and the woman is some sort of evil sorceress? We’ve read the books, seen the movies. We yell at the protagonists for being fucking idiots.” She folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not summoning a ghost.”

  “I don’t believe you summon a ghost,” I laugh. “I think that’s a seance, which is something I know nothing about.” The rain continues to tap on the windows, and coupled with the flickering candlelight, this could be almost romantic. “Why not spend the afternoon cleaning up your shop, then we can research how to cleanse the space? I think it’s called smudging? My ex was into that sort of thing. Sage and whatnot. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

  “I’m going to need a drink for this,” she sighs. “All right, let’s do it.”

  Chapter 4

  Jen

  Tara and I make quick work cleaning up the fallen books and displays. My shop is quiet, only a soft humming I can’t quite place. It’s almost as if an electric toothbrush was left on upstairs. I feel like the unnamed narrator of The Tell-Tale Heart, searching for the sound.

  “Do you hear that?” Tara asks, pausing as she reaches with a book halfway to a shelf. “It’s almost a vibrating sound.”

  “You hear it, too? It’s been driving me crazy! I can’t seem to find where it’s coming from. I’m going to check upstairs; I’ll be right back.”

  She nods and I take the wooden stairs two at a time to my room above the shop. The noise is definitely louder up here. Moving closer to the bed, I hasten my pace to my bedside table. There’s only two things it could be—my vibrator or my other vibrator. Quickly retrieving it from the drawer, I power it off and can’t help the giggle that escapes me. This whole time I thought it was some sort of glitch with the electrical. At least it was only my clit vibrator, I can’t imagine the thumping noise that would accompany the other one that has seventeen settings and gyrates.

  “Everything okay up there,” Tara calls.

  “Just a rogue vibrator,” I yell back.

  “A what?” she laughs. “I need to see this.”

  “Nothing to see, I turned it off.” I make my way towards the stairs, but Tara is already at the top. “When the earthquake happened, it must’ve set it off.”

  Tara’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Is this your room? I didn’t realise you lived here when you mentioned your room.”

  “This is it.” I turn and gesture with a wide sweep of my arm. “It’s a room with an ensuite, but it’s just me, so I don’t need more than that.”

  “It’s stunning.” Tara helps herself exploring the room, brushing her fingertips along my personal collection of books. “Every bookworm’s dream—living in a bookstore.”

  “There’s an ex-hockey player who offered me his flat, but I’m happy here. Tristan’s a sweet bloke. He brought his husband, Myles, to the shop a month ago to help me unpack all of my book shipments. I almost took him up on his offer, but once everything was set downstairs, I didn’t want to leave.”

  “I can see why.”

  I take a seat at the edge of the bed. “So, what brought you to Coal’s?”

  “Actually,” she chuckles, sitting next to me, “you. I came for the bookstore opening. I heard you carried a lot of sapphic titles, so I thought I would come. I live in Calgary, so it wasn’t too far of a drive.”

  “Are you serious? You came for me?” I clear my throat. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was you’re here for my shop.”

  “I am, but also, I would…”

  Thank fuck I wasn’t drinking something just now, or I would’ve sputtered it all over both of us. I do my best to sound casual, though I’m sure I’m failing miserably. “You would what?”

  “After my break up with Greta, I haven’t really dated anyone. Hell, I haven’t even kissed anyone since her. I’ve been on deadline, and I don’t do casual, and⁠—”

  I snap. Without a second thought, I kiss her.

  There’s nothing more awkward than a first kiss. You fumble around, trying to figure out what they like, and in the end, it’ll set the pace for what to expect. The tone of your entire relationship will be driven by that single kiss. This one isn’t anything like I expected. Admittedly, I haven’t kissed a woman in over a year, and my last three serious relationships were with men. Tara is different. There’s nothing to figure out with her, as if we’ve been kissing for years. It’s comfortable, almost rehearsed, as if our muscle memory already existed.

  The faint taste of vodka lingers on her lips as they part for me, deepening our kiss. Neither one of us is overpowering the other, it’s an equal balance, something I’m not accustomed to. Guilt seeps in, replaying her last words in my head. She’s only here for a night—typically my kryptonite—but she doesn’t want a fling.

  I pull back, breaking what has to be one of the best kisses of my life. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have⁠—”

  Tara grips the front of my shirt and brings my lips back to hers, muttering against them, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I stepped into that bar.”

  Stuck at a crossroads, I’m paralysed with fear, unable to make the first move to take things further. Does she want to stay the night? Would she let me touch her? Can we have one night of fun, or will it be too hard to say goodbye tomorrow?

  I don’t have to wait long for my answer, her delicate fingers teasing the hem of my shirt. The anticipation is killing me.

  Why am I so nervous?

  Because she’s Tara Fucking Watson, you twat.

  Reading her books for years, I know what this woman is capable of. Granted, her books are fiction, but she’s conjured some of the most delicious scenes. I’m deathly afraid anything in real life won’t suffice. Tara writes fisting, for fuck’s sake. I’ve never had a whole hand in my cunt, and I don’t think a single night with her will prepare me for that experience. Another part of me is on edge, wondering if whoever is pranking us could be watching. I’m all for a bit of exhibitionism, but with consent. And right now, I want Tara all to myself.

  Her hand slips under my shirt, and I still. “I thought you said you didn’t want something casual.”

  “I did.” She pulls back, lips swollen. “I don’t do this sort of thing, I got caught up in the moment?”

  “The shop isn’t ready for tomorrow.” As much as it kills me to do it, I get up and make my way to the stairs. I only make it a few steps before Tara grips my wrist, spinning me around. The desperate need to claim her lips as mine again is overwhelming.

  I’m about to give in when every candle that was lit suddenly snuffs out. We reach for each other in the darkness, and I try not to dwell on how good it feels being this close to her.

  A sliver of light seeps through the window, enough that once my eyes adjust to the dark I’m able to guide Tara to the wooden stairs. She keeps her hand firmly in mine as we step down one at a time until we’re in my shop. The moment my feet hit the plush carpet, the candles illuminate, making Tara and me jump.

  “Where is that bloody tarot book?” I grumble, releasing her hand to go in search of it. Not a second later, her fingers are interlaced with mine again, bringing me a sense of calm in this madness.

  Tara teases, “They’ve upped their game.”

  “I don’t think this is a game,” I sigh. Pulling the book from the shelf, there’s a card sticking out like a bookmark. She lets go of my hand and an emptiness fills me that I can’t explain or begin to address. I take out the card that says ‘Lovers,’ along with two others that fall to the floor as I open the book: Two of Cups and Four of Wands. The page that was saved describes soulmates, and I bark out a laugh. “Soulmates?”

  “Aw, you don’t want to be my soulmate,” she laughs, nudging my shoulder with hers.

  “The idea is ridiculous. One person who shares the other half of your soul? What about my friend, Jaxon? He fell in love with two people. You mean to tell me that only one is his soulmate?”

  “Sounds like my ex.” Tara blows out a long breath. “In a month, she fell in love with two men. One of them was her best friend, Jax.”

  “Wait… what did you say your ex’s name was?”

  “Greta.”

  “Fuck. Me.”

  Chapter 5

  Tara

  “Wait, you don’t think they are the same people?” I chuckle.

  “Jax used to come into the bar with Greta a few times a month. They were just friends, but a month or two ago, they came in with my friend’s ex, Troy. He wasn’t welcome in the bar, for obvious reasons, so we haven’t seen Greta or Jax since. You dated Greta?” She replies with a nod. “The world is too fucking small.”

  “She cheated on me with my brother. We were on a break, and she didn’t know he was my brother at the time, but…” I sigh deeply, unable to put the words together. It’s all a web of fuckery.

  “Well, I hate to say it, but she’s happy. I wish I could tell you she’s a miserable cunt, drinking away her sorrows. She’s madly in love with Jax and Troy. Maybe a soulmate isn’t defined by two people? But, for what it’s worth, I can’t say I’m the least bit upset that you’re single.”

  Fuck, I love listening to her talk, but when she’s flirting? I’m a fucking gonner.

  “According to your haunted bookstore, I’m not supposed to be.” I take a quick survey of the shop, and nearly everything is put back the way it’s supposed to. “I have an idea.” Moving a few stacks off one of the tables, I pat it twice. “Sit down.”

  “What?” she laughs.

  “Sit down,” I repeat a little less aggressively. She does as I asked and I step between her legs. “Your store is ready for tomorrow, there’s probably a camera in here somewhere; whoever is trying to scare the shit out of us is probably watching. Why don’t we give them a show?”

  “And you won’t be moving in tomorrow?”

  “I promise!” Moving her chunky, blonde braid off her shoulder to her back, I kiss her neck, whispering against her skin, “It’s been months since I’ve touched someone. Tell me to stop and I will. But do me a favor?” I nip at her sweetly as I pull back. “I want you to narrate everything I do to you, especially everything you want me to do to you.”

  My lips return to her neck and she sighs, “No fisting.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m serious, Tara, my cunt isn’t made for that kind of stretch.”

  I slide my hands up her thighs, gripping her ass to pull her closer. “Are you sure about that? I’d bet you could take it.”

  “As hot as that is in books, no. Absolutely not. Three fingers, tops,” she insists.

  I lick up the side of her throat, making her shiver. Me. I’m making this goddess in front of me do this. And, fuck, she tastes good. She balls my dress at the sides in her hands, and pulls me impossibly closer. “If I can make you come with my whole hand inside you, you’re going to show me how you touch yourself with that vibrator upstairs. Then, I’m going to do it all over again.”

  “While I’m loving this pleasure Domme side of you, there’s one problem with this little plan of yours.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

  “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”

  “Then take them off of me,” I taunt, spinning for her to unzip my dress. It pools to the floor and I turn to face her wearing my lacy black bra and matching boyshort panties. “Glad I wore the cute ones today.” Jen’s eyes darken as a single “Fuck” passes her lips. “Now, where was I?”

  “I don’t think so,” she growls. “I’m fucking wet just looking at you, and you expect me to just, what, lie down and take it?”

  “Basically.”

  “And I don’t get to touch you?” I don’t answer and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it to the ground. “Well, that’s absolute shit.”

  Jen’s a fucking vision, candlelight dancing off her smooth skin. I’m a loss at where to start, wanting to taste and touch every inch of her. I help her out of her pants, leaving her in her red silk bra and black cotton panties. I adore the fact that she’s not matching—the yin to my yang, the chaos to my collected.

  I drag my knuckle up her pussy over her underwear, making her head fall back with a soft moan. “What do you want, Jen?”

  “Can I be a selfish cunt?” she laughs.

  “Of course.”

  “I know what that tongue can do and… I want your mouth on my pussy.”

  I press her down to the table with my hand between her perfect breasts. Pulling down the cup of her bra, I swipe my thumb across her nipple. “Only if you talk me through exactly what you want.”

  “Fuck, okay,” she whimpers. “I’ll try, but we aren’t doing the whole ‘eyes on me’ thing. It’s overstimulating.”

  I love that she’s asking for what she wants. Kissing down her stomach with soft brushes of my lips, I slip my fingers into her panties, finding the fabric already damp. Heat pools in my belly, so damn turned on by the fact that she’s wanting me, wanting this. I’ve never had a one night stand before, and there’s something thrilling about the fact that I could be a story she’ll tell to a friend. My only goal is that she’ll tell them I’m the best she’s ever had.

  I play with her swollen clit, circling with enough pressure to build her up, but not let her come. Once she’s on the edge, she protests as I pull away, dragging down her soaked panties and tossing them into the pile of our clothes. Her pussy is fucking perfection. Bending between her thighs, her whimpers become louder as I swirl my tongue around her clit. She’s so wet, I easily glide two fingers inside her. It’s no wonder she was concerned about more than three, she’s tight, gripping my fingers as I curl them to massage her g-spot. She moans a few curses, tightening around me like a vice. All it takes is sucking hard on her clit and she shatters for me, and the sweet moans tumbling from her lips have me aching for her to touch me.

  “Fucking hell, Tara, that was…”

  “That was only two. And I thought I told you I wanted a play-by-play? Now that you’re loosened up, you can take more.”

  She mumbles something unintelligible, then more clearly asks, “Can we go upstairs to my bed? As sexy as it is having you here in my shop tongue-fucking me, I need to be able to sell these books in the morning.”

 

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