Book Lover (Preview)

Jaxon

"Jax, this guy is really trying to get over on me with this price. There's no way this car is going to sell for more than 100k. He has pushed it up to one-eighty because he knows who I am, man," one of my top clients complained over the phone as I parked my car in front of the coffee shop, where I was supposed to meet the alleged flim-flamer.

"I got you, Kyle. I'll see what I can do," I reassured him. Kyle Braxton is a star player for the North Carolina NBA team but was from and lived in Virginia. He is a well-loved figure everywhere, having a cool and laid-back demeanor but he was no pushover.

"Thanks, Jax. I know you've got this. My baby girl wants this car so bad she's stopped even looking at me because it's not in the driveway," he sighed.

I chuckled but rolled my eyes. Spoiled ass kids, I thought. "Alright, man, I'm here at the meeting place. I'll holla at you in a bit."

"Peace."

"Peace."

I sat outside of Book Lover, which I had chosen as our meeting spot because I was curious about "Ms. Jay." I had heard the kids talk about her often whenever I came in for a book or something from the café. Book Lover had become the hottest spot in town for both college kids and locals alike. She had orchestrated it beautifully, making it the go-to place, and I was sure it was always turning a profit, never empty. I first noticed "Ms. Jay" the moment I walked into the bookstore months ago, which had made me a regular customer.

What caught my attention was the way she carried herself. I found myself drawn to her, there's something about her that captivates me. It's not just her physical appearance, although that certainly plays a part. She commands attention in the room, but her energy is peaceful and welcoming. She's above average height for a woman, a deep flawless brown skin and her body is chef's kiss. She carries everything sexy as hell to me. Her breasts are full, and her ass is even fuller, just saying. Her stature exudes a unique charm that sets her apart from the crowd. She carries herself with a sense of confidence that is both awe-inspiring and mesmerizing.

What truly intrigues me, though, is the way she owns her appearance, particularly her decision to embrace her lack of hair. In a world where societal standards often dictate how one should look, "Ms. Jay" stands as a beacon of authenticity. Her clean-shaven head is a symbol of her self-assuredness and her refusal to conform to conventional beauty norms. That right there makes me want to know her even more. But she'd never really looked at me.

I've always been a confident guy, aware of my own attractiveness, and used to getting attention from women. But Ms. Jay, she's different. I can't help but be intrigued by her. She's a mystery, an enigma that I can't seem to unravel.

It's not that she's never noticed me; she just hasn't really looked at me. It may be a little humbling, I'm used to women throwing glances and smiles my way, her indifference is both baffling and strangely alluring. It's like she's on a different wavelength, lost in her own world, and I can't help but wonder what's on her mind.

I'd even mentioned her to my sisters Corrie and Cassie how much I was feeling her, but something was keeping me from approaching her. Probably the fear of rejection. They found it very amusing, that I was having trouble approaching a woman. But she wasn't just any woman, I could tell she was about her business. I needed to come at her about mine as well.

"I understand, my client has the money; however, that does not negate the pricing you have attached to this vehicle. If you try to sell it to anyone else, they will never pay that much for it. Be reasonable here, Matt, 120 is very generous," I calmly stated as I sat across from the seller of the 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350, the coveted gift for my client's daughter's upcoming birthday. It was mint and beautiful, but he was definitely overpricing it.

I have been working as an auto broker for the past decade, specializing in antique cars. I could negotiate deals for both new and old vehicles, but my heart lay with the classics. There was a time when crafting cars was an art, and I often envied the previous era. Now machines churn out identical vehicles bearing different brand logos. My clientele consisted of the rich and wealthy, including music entertainers, executives, athletes, and plenty of stars who loved to throw their money around. I was here to catch it all. At this point do I need to do it? No, but I love the hunt and negotiations and the joy it brings to my customers. I am not a flashy guy, but I do drive one of my many cars depending on my mood for the day.

My father and I own several car dealerships in town and the surrounding cities in the state from luxury to used. I have been immersed in the world of cars since I was a child, spending my weekends at the dealership, watching my father and his colleagues work their magic in sales. At that time, it was just me; my twin sisters arrived late, and at thirty-two, my best friends are seventeen. Those girls are my world; they make me contemplate settling down and having daughters of my own. I protected them fiercely, as if they were my own children. I don't play when it comes to my girls.

"Jax, I hear what you're saying," Matt agreed begrudgingly.

"Thank you, go ahead and sign these papers. Stay out of that man's pockets!" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Matt sighed and filled out the paperwork I handed him. He pushed the keys to the Mustang across the table, and I slid him the check along with a gift from Kyle. When he saw what it was, his mouth dropped open.

"Season tickets!" he yelped excitedly.

"Yeah, see, my guy is generous," I smirked at him. If it had been up to me, he wouldn't have received anything but the check. But Kyle was a generous dude; he just wasn't about to overpay for a car that wasn't worth the price.

Matt stood up and extended his hand for a shake. I obliged, though I stayed seated, distracted by the beauty that had just entered the café.

"Thanks, man. Tell Kyle thanks, and I'll be rooting for him this season," Matt said, breaking my reverie.

"Bet. Peace." I responded as my eyes watched every move she made. At some point Matt left, I don't really know when. Miss Jay stood at the counter, engrossed in conversation with one of her staff members. She looked as amazing as always, sporting a black crop top adorned with the store's logo. It was just the right length to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her belly just above the waist of her perfectly fitting jeans. Those jeans hugged her curves in all the right places, and if my observations weren't mistaken, she was rocking a fresh pair of Black and Gold Patrick Ewings. That effortless blend of comfort and sexiness was exactly what made her so alluring.

Beside her, a short, brown-skinned girl with braided pigtails animatedly chatted away. I quickly shot a text to my tow driver and gathered my resolve. It was now or never. I made my way over to the counter where Miss Jay was standing, ready to make my presence known.