This month our song is one of my very favorites. It’s James Bay’s Need the Sun to Break. If you haven’t heard it . . . well you are so missing out, let me tell you. So, click this link to listen to the song:

As soon as I thought at the song, one of my favorite couples popped into my head: Spencer and Cara. My bad boy biker and his PdD. So, here they are:

 

“Spencer, can you come out and talk to someone? She had an appointment with Chad and, of course, he didn’t bother to tell anyone he’d booked it.”

Spencer looked up from cleaning his station and stared at Deanne. Part of him, a huge part wanted to tell her where she could tell the customer to stick her appointment. In fact, why hadn’t Deanne done it herself? Fucking Chad. The guy was useless and now he wasn’t only useless, but still causing problems. He knew he couldn’t have her blow off the customer. It was his shop and, as owner, had to take responsibility.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He knew he sounded pissed, but couldn’t help it. The day had been going so well too. He’d finished all his appointments and was actually thinking of taking off early.

“Be nice,” Deanne whisper hissed at him. “Chad might have been a total bag of dicks, but that’s not Cara’s problem.”

Right, he thought, so it was his problem. He stepped out into the customer waiting area to find his cousin Deacon and Deanne laughing and talking with someone. The woman looking at the art on the wall turned and smiled at him. Spencer’s heart did a weird flip and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. What the fuck? He really wanted to open his mouth and say something, but he couldn’t manage to do anything, but stand and stare.

She was stunning. Long blonde hair pulled off a small delicate face with huge blue eyes and lips, shit her lips were incredibly. He could imagine himself kissing those lips for days. Sucking on them and teasing them with his tongue.

“Spencer this is Cara.” Deanne’s voice clawed into his brain. “She’s a friend of Holly’s. Cara, this is Spencer. He owns the place.”

The woman stepped up and held out her hand. “Hello, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer forced himself to breath and took her hand. It was small and soft in his large callused grip and he briefly wondered what her hand would feel like stroking his cock. Forcing his mind away from that thought, he cleared his throat.

“So, Deanne said you had an appointment.”

Yeah, great job asshole. You sound like you can’t string two words together. Get it together.

“Holly recommended your shop and somebody booked me with Chad. This was only going to be a consult, but now I find out he’s not here.”

“Chad doesn’t work here anymore,” Spencer said, not wanting to add that the fuckhole had tried to steal from him. Yeah, Spencer put a stop to that.

Deacon shook his head. “That asshole. Good riddance. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Is there a way I can talk to someone else or maybe make another appointment? I’ve never done this before so I really don’t know it works.”

“I can try and clear my calendar,” Deacon said.

“No,” Spencer found himself saying. “why don’t you come back to my station and we can talk.” He glanced over his shoulder at Deanne. “Hold my calls.”

Yeah, okay, he really shouldn’t do this. His calendar was booked close to six months out, but he couldn’t let this woman leave. Wouldn’t let her leave. Even though she was so far out of his league it was like she lived on another planet. None of that stopped him. He wanted to sit and talk to her. Breath her in, since she smelled so fucking good. And, why did it seem that Deacon and Deanne knew her? He knew he would have remembered meeting her.

“So, do you have ideas about the kind of tattoo you want?” he asked, forcing his brain back into business mode.

“I wasn’t sure how this worked, so I brought some pictures with me.” She pulled a sheath of papers out of her purse and laid them on the table between them. “I don’t know if someone copied them. I wasn’t sure.”

He opened the papers and found a mixture of photo copies and scribbled drawings. Not very good scribbled drawings.

“Did you do these?”

She blushed and nodded. “It’s horrible, I know.”

“What’s it supposed to be?” He hated to ask her, but his four-year-old nephew’s art was better.

“It was my attempt at drawing snapdragons. Deanne suggested it might be better to bring pictures so I printed those out.”

“Snapdragons?”

“Yes, I love them and they mean new beginnings. I thought it would be appropriate since I just graduated and am getting ready to start a new job.”

Graduated? Spencer almost cursed out loud. There was no way she could be only twenty-two, right? Fuck, if she was then she was definitely not someone he could get involved with. He was thirty-four and couldn’t imagine being with someone twelve years his junior.

“So, what did you major in?” he asked.

“Major? Oh, no,” she said, smiling again. “I just finished my Ph.D. in mathematics.”

Ph.D. Yeah, she was way, way, way out of his league. Somehow though, he didn’t care. He wanted to get to know this woman so much better.

 

Now head over to read what Bronwyn, Jessica and Kris wrote to go with the song.