Page 18 of Taurus

“Actually, I do. I like triple shot espresso.”

“At that point, you might as well just start mainlining drugs,” I joked.

“With lots of sugar,” he added.

“How about a regular coffee with a shot of caramel syrup?”

“Deal.”

We stood around in the kitchen, eating the bagels and different pastries. Sam seemed to have less of an attitude now, which led me to think the secret of making him happy was coffee and the occasional bagel.

“What do you have planned today?” I asked him.

“Today, I—” he clicked his tongue around. “I would like to help you sort your boxes out. This is no way for anyone to live.”

“I don’t live like this, it’s part of my job,” I told him.

“Then, let’s get your job sorted out, because you could have a cute place here,” he said. “Instead, you’ve got a—meh place.”

That was enough for me. “Fine,” I gave in. “I’ll let you help. But you’ve got to ask me where things go. I can’t get delivery boxes mixed up with stock boxes.”

He gave me a two-finger salute. “Yes, boss!”

There were probably better things we could’ve been doing with our time, like each other, but I wasn’t opposed to him helping me out. In fact, I liked the company, and weirdly, I was enjoying Sam’s humor.

“Have you ever thought about just closing the business?” he asked, glaring into a box.

“No. Why do you say that?”

He pulled his phone out. “Because I searched you online, and you do really well. I saw some of your naughty socials and you’ve got a decent following.”

“Huh, it took you that long to search me, did it?”

“I was told that it’s rude to be on your phone when you’re entertaining a man,” he said. “Speaking of, I can’t believe you folded my clothes. That’s cute.”

“I was trying to be tidy. And to answer your question, I love the store, I love supplying kinky costumes to people, and it helps out my kinky account.”

Sam squinted and hummed. “And nobody put the two things together, like, oh, Zander might be that guy who—”

“No, because I don’t use Zander, or Alexander on that account.”

“Nope, you’re Mr. Bear,” he said. “You know, when I met you last night, I was thinking about what I should call you. Now I’m beginning to think that Mr. Bear being your name, was in my head subconsciously from accidentally seeing your stuff.”

“Accidentally, huh?” I reached into a box, pulling out some tulle fabric. “I’m sure it was an accident.” I scrunched it up into a ball and threw it at him. It missed.

“Hey,” he said, reaching into his box. He pulled his hand out, a gentle smattering of objects fell through his fingers. “This stuff is mostly buttons, so I don’t know if you want me to threw these.”

I waded through the boxes to Sam. “Try me,” I said.

Sam raised a finger and prodded my nose. “Boop.”

“You didn’t just boop me.”

“Boop.” He did it again.

I grabbed both of his arms and pinned him against the ground, making a small angel shape in the objects on the floor. “You’re so small,” I reminded him. “I’m twice your size.”

“Finally,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you to do something like this. Your weight on top of mine is my ideal weight.”