Perfect Kiss by Lacey Black

Chapter 2

Leni

I practically fly into my sister’s bookstore, One More Chapter, desperately needing to talk, only to be brought up short when I see two older ladies browsing the murder mystery section.

“Hey,” Laken greets, offering us a grin. “Uh oh, what’s the matter?” she asks, clearly noticing the look of panic on my face.

I offer her a fake smile and look down at my five-year-old son, Trace. “Why don’t you go look at the books.”

My mini-me glances at his aunt. “Will you read to me?”

As if anticipating the question, she’s already nodding. “Of course I will. Go pick something out and I’ll be over to the reading nook in just a few minutes.”

“Yay!” he hollers, releasing my hand and practically sprinting toward the children’s book section.

“No running!” I whisper-yell, hoping to not disturb the two shoppers quietly discussing the books in their hands.

“What’s wrong?” my sister asks quietly as soon as I approach the counter.

Leaning over, I state, “I think I’m about to be fired.”

“What? From which job?” she asks, her hazel eyes wide with shock.

I take in my little sister’s appearance. Besides having the same eye color, that’s about the only similarities we share. While her hair is a gorgeous shade of red, mine is brown and flat. She has the body of a runner, lean and gorgeous, and standing a solid three inches taller than me. I have the hips and butt that makes buying pants more difficult because the sizes that fit my ass are like five inches too long.

And let’s not discuss my boobs. They practically need their own zip codes. While they might be the first thing guys notice, resulting in a lot of inappropriate leering, they’re nothing but an inconvenience to me. The moment I got pregnant with Trace, they got bigger and never went down, even after I was through breastfeeding. Now, I wear a lot of sports bras, just to try to keep them contained and not appear as big as they are.

I sigh, resting my elbows on the counter. “The City Hall one.”

“No,” she whines. “You just got that one. What happened?”

I close my eyes, instantly replaying the images I’ve been unable to forget from last night. When I open them she’s staring, waiting on me to explain. “I, uh, might have walked into the bathroom and seen the mayor naked.”

Her eyes practically pop out of her head, and if I weren’t a nanosecond away from freaking out, I’d find it comical. “Shut. Up. Really? How? When? How?”

“Ugh,” I groan loudly, covering my eyes. Of course, the very vivid details of seeing Malcolm Wright standing there in the buff won’t subside. They’ve plagued me since I left the very bathroom I found him standing naked in.

Laken comes around the counter and drags me behind it. “Spill.”

“I was cleaning after their meeting, and thought I was alone, like the last few weeks. There were some lights on, but that’s happened before. I thought someone just forgot to shut them off. I went into his office and decided to start in the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, but I didn’t hear anything, so I went inside.”

I blink, replaying the ultimate humiliation. “He was just getting out of the shower, Lake. He was…naked. And wet,” I add with a whisper.

My sister is grinning from ear to ear. “Was it…on display?” she mutters, making sure no one else can hear.

I nod. “Very largely displayed. Like your storefront window during Dr. Suess’s birthday celebration.”

She giggles. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you saw Malcolm naked!”

I groan and glance over to where my son continues to look for the perfect book. “Can we stop talking about it now? I just got that job, and now I’m definitely getting fired.”

“Why?”

“Because I just burst into the bathroom without knocking. Lake, I was completely unprofessional too. I mean, I covered my eyes, but…I didn’t exactly leave right away.”

My traitorous sister covers her mouth to try to hide her laughter. “So, you snuck a few peeks?”

“A lot of peeks. And I’m pretty sure he knew it too.”

Now she’s fully bent over, laughing so hard, she struggles to catch her breath. “So, let me get this straight. You were busted ogling the mayor in his private bathroom, while he was completely naked, and you were supposed to be cleaning?”

I nod, squeezing my eyes closed to avoid her gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re fine, Len. Everyone ogles that man, and besides, you’re probably one of the only women in the county who hasn’t seen him naked,” she replies with a shrug.

Now, my own eyes widen. “Wait. You’ve…”

She waves off my suggestion. “No, not me. I was being sarcastic. That man gets around. A lot.”

So I’ve heard. It’s hard to go anywhere without overhearing someone talking about the sexy mayor. He’s the youngest person to ever hold that position in Mason Creek, and even though he’s a bit of a playboy, he won the election by a landslide. It may have something to do with the fact his father and grandfather both held the position over the years, and everyone seems to like the Wright family.

“Ugh!” I bellow just as my son runs to the counter.

“Aunt Laken, can you read me this one?” he asks, proudly holding up a book on fishing.

“I’d love to,” my sister replies, moving around the counter, taking my son’s hand, and leading him back to the nook.

Instead of joining them, I decide to browse her store, looking for my own book to read. I’ve never been much of a reader, always preferring music and puzzles, but have learned to appreciate a good book as an adult. Of course, there isn’t much time for reading when you’re a single mom with a young son. However, now that he’s five and in kindergarten and doesn’t require my constant attention, I find my own time is a little more flexible.

Since the other shoppers are in the murder mystery section, I head for the romance department. There are a few books I recognize from recent announcements, something about books made into movies for a streaming service and can’t help but notice the big endcap displays my sister has set up. She’s always been a big fan of authors, preferring books over movies, but I imagine having some of her favorites turned into something for the small screen is a big deal, even to her.

One particular cover catches my attention. It features a gorgeous man, his button-down shirt open and his abs on full exhibit. I can’t help but recall another set of abs recently on display. They were rippled and hard, much like the rest of his body. Even as he casually threw his towel over his shoulders, I noticed perfectly sculpted arms and tight thighs you could climb like a tree.

I flip the book over and read the blurb on the back. It immediately grabs my attention, talking about a single mom and the playboy she tamed. A snort leaves my mouth, uncontrolled and very unladylike.

“What’s funny?”

I jump, not realizing my sister’s fiancé had entered the shop and walked up behind me. “Oh, hey, Grayson.”

“Hi, Leni. Whatcha reading?” he asks, his green eyes sparkling like emeralds, even under the lower fluorescent lighting.

“Uh,” I stammer, holding up the book and blushing a bit at the cover. “I was just looking around.”

He smiles, one of those gorgeous smiles that my sister has always found irresistible, even back in high school when she had the ultimate crush on him. “Your sister read that one a few weeks ago. Some of it to me,” he mutters with a far-off grin, as if recalling something I probably don’t want to know about.

“Where are the girls?” I ask, trying to redirect the conversation. Grayson was a single dad before he got together with my sister. Harlow and Hayden are his four-year-old twin daughters from his first marriage, a union that ended when she unexpectedly passed away when the girls were only a year old.

“They’re with my mom. I just got off work, so I thought I’d stop by and steal a kiss from my girl before I go pick them up,” he replies.

“Trace will be sad they’re not here,” I tell him, glancing over to where my sister reads to my son.

Grayson snorts out a laugh. “I bet. Last time they were together, I heard they talked him into painting his toenails.”

I can’t help but giggle as well. “They were blue, so he thought it was okay because it was a boy color.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the softest blush tinting his cheeks as he tries to hide his grin. “They’re a lot, especially when they conspire together.”

I wave off his apology. “I wasn’t worried about it. It came off with nail polish remover.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to apologize anyway. And for all the things they’ll do in the future.”

A bubble of laughter spills from my mouth. “Well, Trace loves having them around. He says they like getting muddy too, so maybe I need to be apologizing to you.”

Before he can reply, the fast footballs of a runner catch our attention. “Mommy, I want to go fishing like Ernie did in the book!” Trace hollers.

“Shh, don’t yell inside, remember?”

“Oh, sorry.” He turns to my sister and gives her a shy grin. “Thank you for reading to me.”

“You’re welcome, little man. Come back next week, okay?” she says, noticing the man standing beside me. Oh, who am I kidding? She noticed him right away. “Hey, you.”

“We’ll get going,” I add, nodding toward the front counter, where the two shoppers from earlier are standing to make their purchases.

“Sounds good,” my sister replies, though I can tell her attention is already turned to her fiancé as they move to the front of the bookstore.

“Ready to go?” I ask, taking Trace’s hand in my own.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as soon as we step out onto the sidewalk and toward my car.

“I think Nana said something about spaghetti and garlic toast.”

“Yay!” he proclaims, jumping up and down right where he walks. “I love pasgetti.”

Smiling, I unlock my car doors and help him inside. Trace jumps right into his seat and fastens the buckles. “Ready, Freddie?”

My son starts giggling. “I’m not Freddie. I’m Trace!”

“Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting,” I tease, closing the door and making my way to the driver’s door.

Just before I pull it open, movement down the sidewalk catches my eye. A tall man steps out of Stitches Seamstress carrying a pair of pants. He slides a pair of aviators on his face, his long gait eating up the walkway with ease and confidence. I recognize him instantly.

Malcolm.

I can feel my cheeks instantly heating up, remembering exactly what he’s hiding beneath that finely pressed suit. I need to get away before he can see me and be reminded of my voyeurism last night.

Quickly.

I tug on my door handle and step back into the roadway just as a car comes around the corner. The driver honks his horn and swerves into the other lane, thankfully without causing an accident from oncoming traffic.

Plastering myself against my car, I try to calm my racing heart.

“Are you okay?”

I startle and turn fast. Two big, warm hands grab my arms to keep me from stumbling, only to come face to face with the man I was trying to avoid. “Oh, yes. Thanks.” I offer him a quick, reassuring grin.

“Are you sure? You almost got flattened by a teenager, who clearly rolled that stop sign,” he replies, glaring off in the direction the swiftly moving car went.

I chuckle. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I appreciate you keeping me from falling on my face,” I add, awkwardly. Glancing down, I realize he dropped the pants he was carrying earlier. “Oh no, your pants are down.”

It takes a second before my words register, and when they do, he busts out laughing. “Well, that’s better than not wearing them at all, right?” he replies with a wink.

I swear, if it were possible, I’d love for the road to open up and swallow me whole. That’s the only way to end this mortification. I cover my mouth with my hands. “That’s not…I didn’t mean…oh my God!”

Malcolm chuckles and squats down to grab the hanger, leaving one hand still holding my arm. “I know what you meant, Lenora.”

“I…can’t believe I said that. Or did what I did last night. I’m so sorry, sir.”

He smirks. “Just Malcolm. And it’s all right,” he says leaning forward. “Besides, it’s not the first time someone has walked in on me in an undressed state. Fortunately for me, the last time, Gladys wasn’t wearing her bifocals, which was why she didn’t realize my bathroom was occupied.” He stands up straight and meets my gaze. “But I suspect your vision is much better.” He smiles, perfectly straight, white teeth that could probably do wonderfully dirty things to a woman’s body.

Kill. Me. Now.

“Again,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I don’t want to hear any more apologies. Clearly you didn’t mean to,” he adds.

There’s a knock on the window, and my eyes are drawn down. “I have to go to the bathroom!” Trace hollers through the door. “Bad!” he adds, reaching down and holding himself for good measure.

“I’m so sorry, but I need to go,” I state quickly, reaching for the door handle.

Malcolm beats me to it though, pulling open the door and stepping aside. “I have a bathroom at City Hall, if that would help,” he says, eyeing the back seat with curiosity.

“Thank you for the offer, but I only live around the corner. We can make it home,” I insist, slipping into my car.

As I reach for the door, he pushes it closed. I fire up my car and roll down the window. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Lenora.”

“My friends call me Leni,” I state, putting my car in drive. “Oh, and I’m very sorry for making you drop your drawers.”

My words register.

My God!

“I’m going to stop talking now. Goodbye, Malcolm,” I say, as I pull from the parking spot and pull into the street, heading around the square to get back to my place.

Before I turn the corner, however, I glance in the rearview mirror, only to find Malcolm standing in the same place I left him. He doesn’t seem concerned that someone could whip around the corner and hit him. He’s just standing there, watching me drive away.

A shiver of awareness slips down my spine, but I ignore it.

The last thing I need is to notice someone like Malcolm Wright.

Worse, the last thing I need is someone like Malcolm Wright noticing me.

Not that I have too much to worry about there. I’m a single mom with wide birthing hips and a big ass. I wear yoga pants yet haven’t attended one yoga class in my entire life. I clean houses and businesses and own the town laundromat. Hell, I clean his family-owned business.

Plus, I often smell like disinfectant and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Grape, not strawberry.

My life isn’t my own and won’t be until my son turns eighteen.

Believe me, there’s nothing exciting or great to look at here.