I don’t like people, I prefer the company of musicians and only if they’re streaming through the speakers at my store.

I don’t like small talk, I don’t do friendly. No one cares if I glare at them as they peruse my vinyl records, and most days I couldn’t give a shit if I make a sale. Surprisingly, my RBF doesn’t phase them, and I never hurt for money.

My customers abide by a silent understanding; follow my rules, accept my grumpiness, or know they’ll be blacklisted from coming back.

Until… the large, oblivious alpha who decides to busk in front of 88 Keys like he owns the sidewalk. His voice isn’t bad, but the fact that I really like listening to it is.

The problem is, his voice makes me crave him and before I can stop it, he’s upended my quiet little life and made a mess of things—my heart included. And now? He’s like a raging bull leading me down an even messier path, and it looks like it’s going to take an entire damn crew to put my life back together.

This is an MM omegaverse without MPREG.

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