Interracial Romance, BW/WM, Contemporary
It was slim pickings for Nandi Boyet. She couldn’t find a decent man anywhere. Trace Wynn was standing in line at the grocery store. He was new in town, but made an obvious play for Nandi. When Nandi took his bait, her friends scorned her. Doesn’t she know—Caucasian men are taboo? Interracial, BW/WM amirapress.com empresslablaque.com (free reads)Empress LaBlaque
I only needed to pick up a few items, but the express lane was closed. That turned out to be a good thing. While standing in line, I had a nice picture to admire. He was probably six feet tall, and I loved his tight butt. His shoulders were strong and seemed nice to lean on. Standing behind him, I noticed that his light brown hair was long and cut into wispy layers. It was obvious his tips were moussed. Without warning, he turned around. “Would you like to go ahead of me? I only have a few items.”
His voice was deep, but his timbre was light. He didn’t have to ask but once. “Sure, thanks,” I agreed, moving ahead of him. As I walked past, his natural scent overpowered his cologne. Together they created a lure of raw sensuality. While under his aromatic spell, I tried to glimpse the name tag that hung from his neck. Trying not to be noticeable was a chore. “I thought I’d be standing here all evening.”
The store must have been having the sale of the century. There were hordes of shoppers with overstuffed baskets. At that rate, the line would have taken forever. Finally, the line started to move slowly. I was facing forward and pacing when the guy asked a question. “So, you’re cooking dinner tonight?”
When I turned around, I felt my ponytail brushing across my back. He was only making small talk, so I responded courteously, “Yes, I love to cook.” I gave a brittle smile, then turned back around.
The guy rocked on his heels and peered over my shoulder. Encircling me in his manly scent, he asked, “Having company?”
I was on a roll. I hadn’t had a serious hit in months. When I turned to address the man, I noticed that his hazel eyes were absolutely stunning and I stammered, “Well, no. Not really.”
“What a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “Looks like you have far too much to eat by yourself.”
Nervously, I shrugged and turned to face him again. “I’ll just pack some for my lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh. A smart woman.” The guy smiled and placed both hands behind his back. His eyes swept over my form, stopping at the length of my short dress. “I’m a meat and potatoes man myself.”
Wondering where this conversation was going, I nodded and gave a brittle smile. Was this guy being friendly or was he really coming on to me? In the past, I’ve been mistaken, and really gotten my feelings hurt. Although I saw his mouth moving, his body language was very subtle. It was not the in-your-face flirting I was accustomed to. Deciding to plunge forward, I extended my hand. “My name is Nandi Boyet.”
He grasped my hand tightly while admiring my large bracelet. “Nancy?” he repeated, without accuracy.
“No, it’s Nan-di.” To appear approachable, I softened my stare and smiled.
“Oh, Nandi. That’s a striking name. Seems I’ve heard it before—movie perhaps? I’m Trace. Trace Wynn.”
Sweeping my bangs from my eye, I asked, “Well, Trace Wynn. What are you cooking tonight?”
Trace reached for a can of lubricant stray positioned on the rack beside us. “I’ll probably grab a burrito or something. I just came in to pick up this duct tape.” He displayed the tape.
To appear interested I inquired, “Oh, is something broken? I heard duct tape was good for everything.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said, sarcastically. “Something is really broken. I just hope I’m not too late to fix it.”
Finally, the checker made her way to me. “It’s about time,” I murmured, reaching inside my purse. Turning toward Trace I admitted, “They must be having a great sale. The store is really busy today; I should have come sooner.”
“It is busy,” he said, grinning seductively, “but I’m glad you didn’t come earlier.”
Immediately, I caught his clue and smiled. It would have been nice if I could have gotten to know him better. Nevertheless, I felt our conversation would end at the checkout counter. While the checker sacked up my items, I ran my debit card. Although I punched in my PIN, I was wondering if I would see Trace again. My last thoughts were ‘what will be, will be.’ After reaching for my bags, I hoisted my purse upon my shoulder and turned toward Trace. “Nice meeting you.”
Trace raised his brow, and nodded with a half smile. “Likewise.”