The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “Brayden! Time to go!”

  Her brother ran up to them, red-faced and grinning. “Can I stay longer? Please?” He whined the last word, grating on her nerves, which were already shot. “Toff’s teaching me some cool tricks and—”

  “No,” Amy cut in. “We need to go now.”

  Brayden’s face fell. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “prisoner,” but Amy ignored him.

  “Let him stay. I can give him a ride home,” Toff said, surprising her—and her brother, based on his awed face.

  “Cool! Thanks, bro!” Brayden fist-bumped him.

  “I didn’t say that was okay,” she protested, but Brayden ignored her and sprinted back to his friends.

  “Why’d you offer him a ride?” She slanted a suspicious look at Toff, which wasn’t easy, since he stood so close that their shoulders touched.

  He shrugged. “I guess I like rescuing redheads.”

  “He doesn’t need rescuing from his sister.” Amy put her hands on her hips, annoyance overtaking her stomach flutters.

  Toff’s gaze swept her up and down. “You’re a criminal, Ames. It’s my duty as a law-abiding citizen to step in.” His annoyingly pretty eyes locked on hers. “Tell you what. I’ll make his day by giving him a lift; then you can break the bad news that we’re not really dating.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Since you’re the one who told him I’m your boyfriend, you get to break his heart. Deal?”

  “But you’re not law-abiding.” Amy narrowed her gaze. “And I don’t make deals with the devil.”

  He laughed, his eyes sparking. “I’m only part devil. The rest of me is pure angel.”

  She would not be swayed by his flirting, or whatever this was. She put her hands on her hips. “One, I never told him you were my boyfriend.” She swallowed, hardly believing they were having this conversation, then plunged ahead. “In fact, I told him we were just friends.”

  Toff cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, amping up her indignation.

  “And two,” she ground out, “his heart won’t be broken when he realizes you aren’t my boyfriend.”

  He tilted his head, lips quirking. “What about your heart? I didn’t break that, did I? Faking it for the sheriff last night?”

  Amy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as she struggled for a reply. He didn’t know about her crush, did he? She’d worked so hard to keep it a secret.

  “You can just drop Brayden off. You don’t need to, um, stick around.” She took a step back, her feet sinking into the damp sand. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Sure. See you later, girlfriend.” Toff grinned, then sauntered toward Brayden and his friends.

  She blushed. Hearing him teasingly call her his girlfriend threw her emotional Geiger counter completely out of whack, even though she knew he was joking.

  She turned her back on the surf god and fled.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Amy pinned the list of the HeartRacer publishing contest challenges to her bulletin board and stepped back to study it. She had it memorized, but seeing it in black and white somehow made it more real. She was still apprehensive about tackling this solo, but she’d taken Viv’s words to heart.

  HeartRacer Publishing Social Media Contest

  Want to meet Lucinda Amorrato, America’s Favorite Romance Author? Need to Expand Your Social Media Reach? Here’s Your Chance!

  Challenge One: Cover Love! Wow us with a creative post featuring your favorite book cover.

  Challenge Two: OTP! Who are your favorite fictional One True Pairings? Show us your ’ships!

  Challenge Three: Win over a reluctant romance reader—our toughest challenge!

  June 9th: Challenge One Deadline

  June 16th: Challenge Two Deadline

  June 26th: Challenge Three Deadline

  July 5th: Winner Meets Lucinda Amorrato! Event hosted by HeartRacer Publishing and The Sunset Bookstore in LA! Details to follow…

  Amy skimmed the challenges again. She already knew her topic for her OTP, but the third challenge would be hard. The easiest approach would be to pick someone who already loved to read another genre and convince them to read a romance. She tapped a pencil against her lips. Maybe Dallas? No, he’d already done that when he was trying to win over Viv. Maybe Rose? No, she read the occasional romance, so she technically didn’t count as a “reluctant romance reader.”

  Amy sighed, sitting down at her desk and twirling her calligraphy pen on her homemade Thor desk blotter, featuring twelve of his bromance memes, one for each month. She’d figure out challenge three somehow.

  Maybe she could get Brayden to read a YA romance. Ha. She snorted at the thought. He’d be as resistant as the boy in The Princess Bride was to “kissing books” when his grandpa started reading to him. Though supposedly that kid grew up to be the author of The Princess Bride, so he’d definitely been converted to the swoony side.

  Bzzz. Her phone vibrated with a text.

  Viv: Your IG post is adorable! Flipper’s a hit. As usual. I texted him not to let it go to his head.

  Uh-oh. Amy’s stomach tumbled over as she opened the app on her phone. Whoa. More than two hundred likes in the past three hours, way more than she’d ever had before. She scanned the comments. A lot of people complimented her yarn bombing, but even more people, um…“complimented” @SurferGodCA. One comment jumped out at her: “Adorbs! Are you 2 cuties 2gether? You should be!” Followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

  Crap. She’d never considered anyone would look at her post and go there.

  “Nope!” she typed. See that, heart? She thought of Toff’s skeptical face on the beach when she’d told him Brayden had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Scowling, she typed, “JUST FRIENDS,” hoping the all-caps and tongue-out emoji face made her point. She thought of how he’d laughed his butt off about the raccoons and added the green puking emoji face for emphasis. Her heart raised a feeble protest, reminding her of how he’d swooped in to save her, how worried he’d been that someone was after her. And how determined he’d been to save her from a ticket.

  Be quiet, heart. We’re competing, not swooning.

  Next to the HeartRacer list was a poster featuring the cover from Lucinda’s bestselling book that kicked off her most famous series. A gorgeous illustration of the heroine holding a sword to the hero’s neck, it was included in her favorite book subscription box, along with a scented candle that was supposed to smell like the hero. The woodsy candle smelled great…though not as good as the whiff of up-close-and-personal Toff scent she’d inhaled when he’d wrapped his arm around her in his van.

  Ugh. Stop. Keep your mind on what you should be on.

  Amy blinked, refocusing on the HeartRacer list and the contest. She could only imagine what it would be like to meet Lucinda in person. If—by some miracle—she won the contest, she’d have to write a script of exactly what to say. Even then, she’d most likely mess up.

  She wished she had the confident swagger of the U.S. women’s soccer team winning it all or the courage of the Notorious RBG pumping iron and throwing down Supreme Court decisions in her eighties, but she didn’t.

  It wasn’t like she could sign up for classes in swaggery bad-assery or hire a competition coach for her bookworm contest.

  Her scalp tingled, and goose bumps pricked her arms as an idea bubbled from her heart to her brain, or was it the other way around? No, she warned herself, bad idea. But her brain ignored her command, taunting her with images of Toff—vivid memories of him hoisting trophies overhead when he won surf comps, pushing his teammates in pop-up drills on the beach in his role as surf captain, and teaching younger kids like her brother, who shadowed him everywhere.

  He’d be a great coach, whispered a voice in her mind. If you really want to win that contest.

  “It’s not a surf contest,” she said aloud.

  So what? a
rgued the voice. It’s all about confidence. Believing you can win. Bringing the swagger.

  “He doesn’t know anything about books.”

  But he knows how to win, the internal voice persisted. Not just any voice—her voice.

  Argh.

  Amy shoved her chair away from her desk, crossed to her bed, and sank into her pillows. She closed her eyes. This time her heart served up a memory instead of her brain—Toff strutting across the stage at last year’s Surfer Ball, wearing a crown and waving a trident scepter when he’d been crowned King of the Sea.

  He’d pulled off something incredibly brave and heroic that night, way bigger than the yarn-bomber rescue. He and Dallas both had. She still remembered the hint of awe in Toff’s eyes when he credited Dallas and his martial arts skills for saving the day. That night had definitely cemented their bromance.

  She opened one eye and waved her giant size-fifty knitting needle in the air. If she squinted, she could pretend it was a sword. She’d only used these needles once; they were so unwieldy. Brayden called them her vampire-killing stakes.

  Could she be as bold as Toff and Dallas?

  With a thunderous crash of her door against the wall, her brother burst into her bedroom and launched himself onto her bed. “Guess what!”

  Speak of the devil. The other devil had obviously given him a ride home, like he’d promised.

  Amy scowled at Brayden. “You’re supposed to knock.” She wanted to put a lock on her door, but her parents refused on the grounds of safety. She’d rather have privacy than safety.

  “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” He grabbed her other giant knitting needle, jumped off her bed, and danced around the room, practicing sword moves. “Toff told me you guys are keeping things on the down low so Mom and Dad don’t freak.”

  What. The. Heck. Hadn’t Toff asked her to “crush Brayden’s dreams” and tell him they weren’t dating?

  “There’s no secret,” Amy snapped. “We aren’t dating.”

  Brayden side-eyed her like she was jabbering in an alien language. “If you want to keep your boyfriend a secret from the ’rents, we need to make a deal.”

  He wandered to her desk and picked up her Harry Potter Funko Pop, then shot Amy a menacing look. “If you want this guy to live.” He grabbed the Wonder Woman figure off her bookshelf. “Or this one.” He smashed the characters’ faces together and made kissing sounds.

  “Brayden.” Her voice was a growl. Nobody messed with her Pops. “Put them back.”

  “You do the litter box and I’ll keep my mouth shut,” he said through the side of his mouth, sounding like a character from a 1940s gangster movie.

  She bit back a laugh. This was ridiculous. She was bargaining with her brother to keep a secret that wasn’t even real.

  “Trash? Recycling? You do those and I’ll do the litter box.” Brayden gripped the figurines tightly in one hand, looking hopeful.

  She shook her head.

  “You’re willing to risk me ratting you out?” He grabbed a knitting needle and held it to Harry’s throat.

  “Yep.” She pointed to her door. “Now put them back and leave.” If Brayden outed her, she’d tell her parents the truth—she’d been out late and Toff gave her a ride home. As a friend.

  A ruckus sounded down the hall, distracting Amy. Goldi’s paws skittered on the floor, and she yapped her excited, new-person bark. A deep laugh sounded from the foyer. A deep, familiar laugh.

  Brayden tossed the Funko Pops onto her bed and raced down the hall.

  Amy’s skin prickled with goose bumps.

  No. Way.

  Why hadn’t Brayden warned her?

  “Hey, Amy!” Brayden yelled. “Toff’s here!”

  “Maybe you could yell louder, Brayden,” she whispered sarcastically. “I don’t think everyone in California heard you.”

  “You have to come out here!” her brother hollered. “You know guys aren’t allowed in your bedroom.”

  Goldi barked in agreement.

  Amy cringed, mortified. Did winners ever stab their siblings? Of course they did. Just look at Game of Thrones.

  Toff’s deep laughter echoed down the hallway, into her bedroom, and danced up her spine. At least her parents weren’t home. She’d have to get rid of him before they came back from running errands.

  She slid off her bed and checked the mirror over her dresser. After the beach, she’d changed into one of her favorite T-shirts: I Like to Party (and by party I mean read.) Perfect. One more thing for Toff to tease her about.

  “Here goes nothing,” she muttered. She stuck a glittery butterfly clip in her hair for luck.

  If the universe had just sent the perfect competition coach right to her door, who was she to refuse?

  …

  Toff waited for Amy in the McIntyres’ kitchen, where Brayden had dragged him. He hadn’t planned to come inside, but curiosity had won out. He’d had fun with Amy last night—and today—especially when she teased him, and he wondered how long she’d been hiding that feisty side. Plus, he felt kind of bad about how hurt she’d looked when he’d rejected her book recommendations.

  Not that he’d ever read one of those books.

  His stomach growled. The kitchen smelled great, like bacon and coffee and something sweet and delicious. He was always hungry, especially after surfing.

  “Amy’s doing weird book stuff. She’ll be out in a minute.” Brayden handed him a cookie from a Tupperware container. “You know how she is.” He shot him an exasperated look, like he and Toff shared a burden.

  Toff grinned and took a bite of the cookie. Whoa. This was one seriously tasty pastry.

  “How many burpees can you do in a row? Do you swim a lot of laps? What’s your favorite Sharknado movie?” Brayden fired questions like a machine gun while their dog, a bouncy golden retriever, danced around Toff, licking his bare legs. He leaned down to pet her, and she flopped onto her back, offering her belly.

  “Brayden, leave Toff alone. Go take out the trash. Goldi, go to your bed.”

  Toff straightened to face Amy, who stood with her arms crossed over her chest, scowling. Usually girls were happy to see him. He wasn’t sure if she was annoyed because of her brother or because he’d decided to come inside instead of dropping Brayden off like she’d said.

  He couldn’t put a finger on why he was standing in her kitchen. All he knew for sure was he’d needed to come inside and just…see her or whatever. Make sure she hadn’t accidentally stabbed herself with a knitting stick.

  “Hi.” She barely glanced at Toff, then nudged the dog, who was still lying belly up, with her bare foot. “Brayden, take Goldi outside.”

  “But you just told me to take out the trash.” Brayden shot Toff a dude-back-me-up look.

  Toff shook his head. No way was he getting in the middle of these two.

  Amy huffed in frustration. “So do both. And poop scoop while you’re at it.”

  Brayden glared at his sister. “You’re doing the litter box.” He pointed at her, then Toff, then back to her. “You scoop the cat poop, or I spill the boyfriend scoop.” He snorted. “You lied, Amy. Toff’s your boyfriend. Why else would he be here?”

  Toff smashed his lips together, holding in a laugh. Amy’s pretty eyes widened, and she blushed as red as her hair.

  “If you want any more surfing tips from me, you’ll stop spying on your sister.”

  Brayden looked more stunned than his sister did, which was saying a lot.

  Toff leaned against the kitchen counter, warming up to his role. “Nobody threatens my girlfriend, not even her brother. Get going, kid. You’ve got chores to do.” He pointed to the door leading outside, then pinned Brayden with his toughest don’t-eff-with-the-team-captain glare.

  Brayden stared up at him, mouth half open. He didn’t look scared so much as impressed. Toff held
in his grin until the kid and the dog left the kitchen; then he turned to Amy, blasting her with his flirtiest grin.

  “I’ve got this fake boyfriend act down. First I fake out the sheriff; then I scare off your brother.”

  Amy blinked, then reached up to twist her hair into some sort of bun shape. Something small and sparkly fell out and landed on the floor. She bent down to grab it. When she stood up, he read her T-shirt and laughed.

  “Nice shirt. You and Dallas should start a nerd shirt store.”

  Her eyes flickered, reminding him of when he’d called her knitting needle a stick and teased her on the beach. He liked sparky Amy.

  “What are you—” She took a breath and tugged self-consciously at her T-shirt. “What are you doing here, Toff? You could’ve just dropped off Brayden.”

  “Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend? Especially after last night?” He put as much innuendo as he could into those last two words, hoping she’d play along.

  She didn’t.

  “I don’t like being mocked. Besides, you’re the one who told me to crush Brayden’s dream and tell him that this”—she mimicked his gesture from the beach—“isn’t happening.”

  A jolt of surprise shot through him. “Hey, I didn’t mean— That’s not what—” Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, still damp from surfing. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but somehow he had.

  “Did you come inside to make fun of my yarn bombing?” Amy brushed past him, opening the fridge and pulling out sandwich makings. His stomach growled again.

  “What? No, I just…” Where was his flirt game?

  Amy grabbed plates from a cupboard and started slapping bread, cheese, and ham together. She opened a jar of mustard and glanced at him. “Mustard? Mayonnaise?”

  “Uh…both? Thanks.” Was she still upset? Did mad girls typically make sandwiches for the object of their anger?

  “Thanks for scaring Brayden. That was awesome.” She glanced over her shoulder, setting him off balance with a mischievous smile.