Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (45 page)

“You own this place?” he asked, that accent of his so thick.

I nodded a little. “I do,” I said, and immediately I noticed something, that smile seemed to always touch his eyes first.

His arms moved over his chest. “That’s quite an accomplishment for someone so young. You can’t be more than…”

As the words ghosted off, I didn’t miss what he did there. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was fishing for information, information about me.

So I decided to give it to him.

“Twenty-three,” I said, chewing my lip a little.

He grinned. “Like I said, pretty awesome accomplishment.”

I let myself look away, fighting the heat from the stare so I could thumb through the CDs. I almost let it go, almost, as I picked up the album I wanted.

“Nice, by the way,” I told him, going over to the disc player we used to let customers listen to CDs.

He followed me. “Nice?”

I nodded, using my keys to unlatch the security case. I opened it, putting the CD in the disc changer. “Not-so-casually getting my age.”

Being put on the spot might have flustered a weaker man, but this guy wasn’t that. He took being called out in good stride, taking the headphones from me when I handed them to him. He put them on. “And here I thought I was being smooth.”

I fought myself from smiling, lounging back and sliding my hands into the pockets of my fringy cardigan.

“I’m twenty-six by the way,” he said, reaching over to push play on the player.

Laughing a little, I shook my head. “I didn’t ask,” I told him, though I kind of wanted to.

Without missing a beat, he pulled back, glancing at me too casually. “I thought I’d save you the trouble. You know, in case you were wondering.”

I chewed the tip of my thumb, watching as he put his hands on the shelves, dipping his head as he listened to what I gave him. The Young MCs were an acquired taste, but I thought he might like them. They were old school, throwback, and nothing short of amazing. The band originated here and rose to national fame decades ago. They toured the world now, playing new stuff, but their old tracks couldn’t be beat. They had the essence of what true, raw hip hop was, and I watched this guy, expecting one of two things. He might appease me, smiling a little like he enjoyed it when the music was only mediocre to him, or something would show on his face, something that told he really was feeling it.

I watched, waiting for that look, and though I got it, I got so much more.

His eyes closed a little, his lashes flickering down, and then he did something peculiar. Those soft, pink lips moved, speaking without words. Listening, I could hear the faraway lyrics from the track in his headphones. He couldn’t possibly know the words, but that didn’t seem to matter. He spoke with them, so subtly, and he did it so effortlessly, finding a rhythm within them.

Then there were his fingers.

He tapped them to his stomach, every push of the digit sharp on tempo. Again, I could hear it through the headset.

I watched in fascination, his fingers to his body, his lips, so when the track ended, it threw me off. I zoned out so far, blinking.

He pulled the headset off. “
Daebak
,” he said, then laughed a little when I stood in a bit of a stupor before him. I didn’t know if the disorientation was because I didn’t understand the word or from what I just saw him do.

“It basically means cool,” he said assuming the former. He fanned his hair. “I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“Oh,” I responded, my face burning. I touched it, wondering why it was so hot.

He smiled, looking up at me. “What are they called?”

“The Young MCs,” I told him, putting the disc back in the case. “They’re an old group. They actually started here before they went wide.”

That seemed to please him, a smile spreading out on his face.

“Awesome, awesome,” he said. I handed him back the CD and he flipped it, studying the art. He gazed up. “I think I’ll take the whole discography.”

I did one of those double takes, blinking. I couldn’t have heard what I thought I had.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “The whole discography?” Did he realize how many albums that was? I had told him it was an old group, so of course that came with the territory. Not to mention he heard one song and wanted all their music? That seemed a little odd to me. I supposed not to him because his eyes narrowed a little, not understanding.

“I mean, yeah. If you have it,” he said. “Is that a problem?”

“Uh, well, no but they are an old group. They have like twenty albums.”

His fingers went to that feathered hair, moving it around. “I understand you wanting to keep copies on the shelf… I guess. For other customers? I can just take one or two albums if you prefer. Maybe the first two?”

Holy crap, he was serious. A burst of pride swelled from my chest at the sale. I must have been on my game tonight.

I reached over gathering them up. “It’s not a problem. I guess it just took me by surprise.”

“Oh?” he asked, watching me. “Why’s that?”

Again, very odd. He had no idea why purchasing over twenty albums on a single listen of
one
track was unusual. Maybe, it was just as he said. He needed to replenish his stockpile.

I picked up the last album, shrugging with the lot. “That’s just a big purchase based off one listen.”

“Not really,” he said, reaching over to relieve me of the albums. He was the one to shrug now. “You recommend them.”

My lips parted as he passed me, heading toward the registers.

I fell into step with him quickly, trying to get those lungs to work again.

“And I actually did like them,” he said, placing them on the counter.

He reached behind himself and pulled out his billfold, and I pretended like he didn’t just compliment the hell out of me while he waited for me to ring him up. Dom on the other hand? Not so subtle.

He whistled into the air. “Obviously, Harley hooked you up.”

“She did,” he said, a smile pushing into the corner of his mouth. He nodded his head a little to me. “Thank you, Harley.”

His accent around my name gauged a reaction out of me, a harsh one I tried not to let spread out across my entire face. I couldn’t hide the tingle, though, the pricks of awareness passing under my skin and far lower.

I squeezed my thighs together, ignoring it as I bagged his stuff. “You’re welcome,” I told him.

“Jae,” he said, finishing for me.

I smiled. “Jae, you’re most very welcome. I was happy to help you out.”

Dom exchanged a look between us and that damn fool had the nerve to grin the entire time. He crossed his beefy arms. “So I take it you’ll be back, Jae? Since you were
serviced
well?”

I shot a hip into him, which made me knock the entire stack of CDs over when my elbow hit them, and Dom did nothing but drape an arm over my shoulder, waiting for a response.

Jae grinned a little. “I think that’s a given, eh…?”

“Dom,” he said, smiling all too wide.

Jae chuckled. “Dom. I will. I have a feeling I’ll burn through these pretty quickly.”

I gave this guy enough music to take him into next year, but I wouldn’t argue. If he wanted to come in again, he sure was welcome.

While I finished bagging up his stuff, Dom handled the payment exchange, Jae’s thick, black credit card passing over the register. The shop was pretty much quiet as Jae was the last customer in the store, so a changeover in the store’s music was easy to make out. Especially, since the track had barely any English in it.

From the distant speakers, the tunes of a sugary sweet beat replaced that of the shop’s previous Hot 100 track and Jae’s lashes flickered up, definitely taking notice of the change.

Dom simply chuckled at the switch, finishing Jae’s transaction. “Not even here and Tess McGuffy strikes.”

He definitely had that right. Every once in a while I let Tess slip her tracks into our house music rotation. Again, we played everything here. I normally didn’t mind it
too much
, but I found myself wanting to snap it off at Jae’s reaction. It seriously seemed to bother him. Like royally, his gaze averting from the speakers. His entire demeanor changed from before. He went stiff, his shoulders tight, and I cringed.

“Sorry,” I told him, tipping my chin above. “I know this is different. The music? One of our employees is really into it.”

I really downplayed that. When it came to the happy beats and electrified tempo of that of Kpop, a.k.a Korean Pop music, Tess McGuffy was pretty much obsessed. In fact, if she hadn’t bailed on her shift tonight, she’d be dancing and flubbing along with the English and Korean lyrics that blended throughout the tracks. But damn, did she try her hardest to keep up. She simply loved the stuff, but maybe Jae didn’t. He said home was South Korea, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed all the music. Especially, if he was really into hip hop like he seemed to be.

Upon being called out, his brow flickered up. “Oh, uh,” he said, pushing a hand over his head. When he dropped it, he smiled a little. “It’s no big.”

He said that, but it seemed to be, a big deal that is.

He slid his bag off the counter. “And, eh, I don’t mind it. But do you? You apologized for it like you’re not into it.”

Had I had my choice, I wouldn’t have played it, and normally, I didn’t. I only heard the occasional tracks when they played in the store. Even still, I didn’t mind the music one-way or the other. I was open to everything. I shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s that I’m not into it. It’s just, I think for me, this particular track is a little too sweet.”

His hand slid from his hair when I said that and he relaxed a little, smiling again.

“I think we agree on that,” he said, bowing a little. It was a single one that moved his hair over his eyes again.

He raised his head. “
Gamsahabnida
, thank you,” he said, then finished by saying, “pretty girl.”

I was left with that as he lowered his purchases to the side, turning to leave my shop.

Something made me act impulsively.

Moving around the counter, I stopped him, plucking one of the vinyl records we had on display. He watched as I handed it out to him.

I smiled a little. “We had a free first listen for our customers earlier tonight.” I paused, shrugging. “Every first timer to the store gets a free vinyl during the promo. Didn’t want you to miss out.”

He accepted it, raising it to me. “I appreciate that, and thank you. See you later, Harley.”

Later, I wouldn’t mind. He left after that and an arm that weighed probably the equivalent of a couple of barbells fell over my shoulders.

“Since when do we give out brand new records for first listen?” Dom asked me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at the door. “You’re fired,” I told him, shaking my head. “Fired on
so
many different levels.”

He merely grinned, gazing at the door, too. He only responded with an, “And
you’re
welcome.”

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