Free Finding Autumn by Beth Michele

opens another. “So tell me more about this chick from last night. How did you meet?”
    “We met in the train station, actually,” I answer, fighting back a smile. “We ended up sitting together on the way here. I don’t know, Rex. She’s not like the women I usually spend time with and I like that. There’s something about her that kind of sticks with me.”
    “I gotta hand it to you, bro, women just flock to you. The money, the good looks, the Rolex watch,” he jokes, honing in on my wrist.
    “You’re one to talk. I’ve seen those women fawning all over you in the tattoo shop.”
    “Speaking of which,” he details, blowing out a breath. “I did a nipple tattoo the other day, and holy shit, this chick had some of the nicest tits I’ve seen in a long time. It’s times like that where professionalism really sucks.” He laughs to himself. “So… are you gonna see her again?”
    “Yup. Tonight.” I feel another smile coming on, and I’m helpless to stop it. It’s genuine, just like Autumn.
    “Motherfuck,” he utters, running a hand through his dark, spiked hair, “there goes our trip to the strip club and my lap dance.”

Chapter Seven
     
     
    ~Olivia~
     
     
     
    The seminar ended early and it was a complete waste of my energy. The entire time I sat there, only one thought ran through my brain on repeat—Hunter. Actually, there was one more. When the hell am I going to get out of here so I can head over to Victoria’s Secret to pick up sexy lingerie for our date tonight?
    That’s where I am now, standing right outside the door to the store. It’s pretty sad, actually. All of my friends shop here on a regular basis, but not me, not the erotic romance author. She sleeps in a tank top and shorts, flannel pajamas in the winter. But I want to be sexy for him. For the first time in a long time, I feel sexy, desirable.
    I smooth down the sides of my skirt as I walk in. The early twenty-something sales girl with bleached blonde hair, perky breasts and personality to match makes me feel old, and I’m not old by a long shot. I know I have a pretty nice figure; hourglass curves, firm breasts, fairly nice ass. Yet, for some reason, when I walk in here, I always feel inferior. My fingers absentmindedly fidget with the bracelet on my wrist as I attempt to push away years of insecurity, trying to shed my old skin, which for me, isn’t easy.
    My parents didn’t help matters. Growing up, our house was completely closed off in every sense of the word. No one walked around naked, and I can only recall seeing my mother in her bra and panties once. Most of my adolescence was spent in the dark, not knowing what was happening to me, or what to expect. I relied on books from the library, the ones I snuck home and read in my closet.
    “Can I help you?” the sales clerk chimes in, sweet-talking me out of my little walk down menstruation lane.
    “Actually, I’m good, thanks,” I reply, feeling confident enough that I can pick out sexy underwear, knowing what Hunter will like. My heart gallops thinking about seeing him tonight and I beg it to slow down. After all, I hardly know him.
    An hour later, with a satisfied smile on my face and three Victoria’s Secret bags slung over my shoulder, I make my way out the door. I practically bought every matching set they had: red and black, blue and black, pink and black, cream and red, cream and pink. I’ll admit I also bought a couple of cotton tees and sweatpants. The lingerie may be sexy, but let’s be honest, it’s not all that comfortable.
    I casually stroll around Faneuil Hall, stopping at a street vendor selling coffee. I need my caffeine. After ordering a mocha latte, I spot a nearby bench and take a seat, dropping my bags down beside me. The sun feels warm and welcome on my skin, as I sip my coffee and people-watch for a while. It’s one of my favorite things to do actually, and often times my mind will wander into various scenes for my novels. For some