Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
The next words tumble out of my mouth, saucily too. “You have a funny way of showing it. You could try, I don’t know, saying what you want.”
Wesley lifts an appreciative brow, then says dryly, “Ice cream. The answer is always ice cream.”
A quiet gasp escapes me as he takes us back to our first night together. “Maybe you should get some now. I hear there are ice cream shops all over the city.”
He nods in the direction of an imaginary shop in the distance. “Like that one right by a hotel.”
A rush of heat blasts through me. This man. He turns me on and helps me out at the same time.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, then impulsively, I take his hand and lead him to the imaginary bustling city street and toward the invisible shop and hotel.
The teacher claps, along with the class, then calls up the next pair. As we sit down, my heart still beating in my throat, I say, a little exhilarated, “We did it.”
“We did,” he says, then we watch the others till it’s our turn again a little later.
Once more, we head to the stage, and this time I feel a lot less afraid.
“You’re two lovers meeting for a clandestine tryst,” the teacher says, and I wait for more but that’s it.
It’s like she knows what we want. My face flames, but I ignore the heat in my cheeks.
“You’re here,” Wesley murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes drinking in every detail of me. My face isn’t the only part of me that’s hot.
This time, I don’t pretend I’m in a story. This time, I’m just me.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I say, my voice husky with emotion.
The air crackles with unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Wesley brushes his fingers against my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he confesses softly.
Is this improv or a fantasy?
My skin tingles everywhere. “I’ve missed you too,” I whisper.
I hope this yes, and never ends.
“Then maybe we should make the most of this moment,” Wesley suggests, his voice filled with a mix of desire and hope.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
His gaze darkens with a hint of mischief. “You could come over,” he suggests.
The implication. Dear god, the implication.
My knees weaken. My bones melt. I have no yes, and. I only have one thing to say. “Yes, please!”
The class laughs, and the teacher fans her face. “Well done! I had a feeling you two would be naturals with these prompts.”
Wesley looks away, so I can’t catch his reaction. But as I return to my seat I keep wondering—if it was that obvious to the teacher that we’d be naturals at romantic longing, will it be harder rather than easier to be friends?
The answer starts to come when class ends, and as we walk out, Wesley declares, “We’re taking a pic.”
I feel like a superhero. No, a dragon slayer. I’m marching through the land, having vanquished the foe of my fear. “A victory shot,” I declare.
Outside the theater, he reaches for his phone, clicks on the camera, and drapes an arm around me, drawing me closer.
Then, he curls that big hand a little tighter around me. A rush of tingles spread down my back. From that.
That’s my answer—it’ll be harder.
20
DOUBLE CHECKMARK
Wesley
She deserves a prize, and there’s only one thing to get my bold librarian who faced down the beast of her fear and slayed it.
An hour or so later, I hold out the door to An Open Book on Fillmore Street. It’s close to my house, but beyond that I can’t tell anyone much about it. I don’t hang out here.
But Josie lights up as she walks through the entrance, passing a sign for the Page Turners Book Club. “If I’d known I was getting a book as a prize, I’d have been a little less dramatic before class.”
“My bad,” I say dryly. “I should have told you.”
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” She beelines for the thrillers. That’s not what I’d expected. I’d have pegged her for something…sweeter. I join her as she flips through a book with a dark window on the cover. “I’m into thrillers this month,” she explains before I can ask. “Since it’s October. Halloween and all. Next month it’ll be lit fic. The month after, romance. I’m an omnivore when it comes to books.” She snaps up a paperback called The Woman in the Hotel. “What about you? Can I get you one too?”
For a guy who’s quick on his feet, you’d think I’d have anticipated this moment. But nope. Didn’t cross my mind she’d want to get me a reward gift as well. “Nah, I’m good,” I say, keeping my answer light and easy, hoping she doesn’t ask more questions.
But no such luck.
“I don’t mind. I have the money,” she says. Ah, hell, she thinks it’s a finance thing, like when I refused her rent offer. “I pay my landlord in a couple pieces of fruit a week, so I’ve got extra.”