Read Shame: A Stepbrother Romance for Free Online Page B

in that styled magazine sort of way that requires time in front of a mirror. His eyes are dark blue and clear, not a hint of hangover in them. His clothes are impeccable. Jeans, a shirt and a sports coat, all coordinated and expensive looking.
    How come some people look like him the morning after a party and then everyone else looks like me? Or slightly better than me. Right now I’m convinced no one looks as miserable as I do standing in front of him and trying to shrink inside my hoodie dress.
    I turn my back to him and start gathering the tray with coffee things from the table just so I don’t have to face him. I’m hoping that if I give him enough time, he’ll simply leave. In the back of my mind, I’m still hoping it’s a dream.
    “How do you know I work here?”
    “Does this look familiar?” he says and I can’t help but turn to look.
    He is holding the Polaroid picture of my phone number written in the bathroom stall. It might have even been the same bathroom stall we fucked in last night. I cringe inside. So, he was not just destroying evidence last night. He was fishing.
    “I took my chances,” he says and to my horror, follows me to the kitchen. Does this man have no boundaries? And what is he still doing here after he’s seen what his Cinderella really looks like?
    “Actually, I don’t believe in chances,” he continues, “I googled the number. It was listed as the contact for this place. Do you own it or something?”
    “I do,” I grumble. I don’t see where this is going.
    “Impressive, Cinderella. So, where’s the porn section?”
    I almost choke. What? How dare he even bring up anything sex-related, not to mention porn? I was seriously hoping the odd episode from last night can be safely erased from both our brains now that we’ve seen each other in real life.
    “You mean the self-help section?” I say.
    “Is that where you hang out?”
    Oh, super, now he is openly insulting me.
    “No, just figured anyone looking for porn at nine in the morning on a Sunday must need some help.”
    He laughs. I don’t know why, but I smile a bit. His laughter is so genuine, so unrestrained that it’s contagious. His lips reveal two rows of pearly teeth that make him even more attractive.
    “So, about last night…” he says and I freeze.
    “Ugh, no, please,” I say, the desperation obvious in my voice. “No talk of last night. It’s too early. And how are you not feeling sick?”
    “I don’t drink.”
    “Well, technically, I don’t drink either.”
    “Right,” he says and laughs again. Damn him!
    Why am I even still talking to the guy? And why is he still here?
    He picks up a random book from the nearby shelf and starts leafing through it, pretending to read.
    “So, you don’t drink in clubs,” I say before I can stop myself, “You just go and have sex with random people and then leave?”
    “Why? Isn’t that what you do?”
    Okay, I give up.
    “Is there anything I can help you with? I have a ton of work to do. I don’t have time to chat,” I say and sit behind the counter, pulling out a large ledger. He is pretending to be reading and I’m pretending to be writing. What a peaceful Sunday morning!
    “No, you don’t,” he says and looks at me with that mocking glint in his eyes that seems to be ever-present. “There’s no one here. I know bookstore fans are rabid, but it looks like they’ve all had some good times last night and are not ready for books yet.”
    “Well, I’m not ready for meaningless chat either,” I snap. I wonder if I’d have been so unfriendly if I didn’t look like shit right now. I just need to get him out of here as soon as possible. I need to be alone.
    “Fine,” he says and plops the book on the counter, “I’ll get that.”
    I look at the title. It’s a tour book of French monasteries. How fitting! I roll my eyes, but I’m not going to turn away a sale, as fake as it is, so I ring it up.
    “By the way, your friend Michelle has invited my