The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  She gave up faking disinterest. He made her laugh like no one else. “Where’s she taking you on your date?”

  “Book club.”

  “What?” Panicked, she sat bolt upright. “You— you—can’t—” Book club was a sacred space. No boys allowed.

  “Relax, Bonnie. I turned her down. I knew you’d never let me in your secret clubhouse.” His lips puckered around his smoothie straw.

  Lucky straw.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you can joke around with the bad news.”

  He stared down at his feet. “Yeah, well. Good thing you didn’t see me yesterday.” He glanced up, his smile sheepish. “I was in extreme alphahole mode.”

  “Really?” She was impressed he remembered.

  “Oh yeah. Rage-quit on my dad. Traumatized some tourists when I was running to the beach. Almost took them out.” His tone was joking, but his eyes were troubled.

  “I’m sure your dad understands. He’s a surfer, too.”

  “Maybe.” His answering smile was forced. “He wanted to talk, but I avoided him.” His gaze darted around the store, then back to her. “What time are you off work? I could use some cheering up.”

  Her heart did a jump-rope skip. “Six o’clock.”

  His attention drifted to her mouth. “Want to go hang out at the pier?”

  “Sure.” Amy willed her heartbeat to slow down, but now it was double-dutch jump-roping.

  “Cool. I’ll pick you up here.” He stood, sucked down the last of his smoothie, then swished the empty cup into the trash can. “I should get going.”

  Disappointed he was leaving, Amy walked him to the door, pausing to grab a bookmark from the new releases table.

  “Here. You need to use this. Breaking book spines is like forgetting to clean your board.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just humor me and use a bookmark. Please.”

  He quirked a smile. “Yes, boss.”

  His eyes didn’t look troubled anymore. His gaze darkened, full of heat, and she held her breath, hoping for a kiss. Instead, he took a step back, tossed her another pantie-melting grin, and was out the door in a flash.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Toff handed a five dollar bill to the girl running the Whack-a-Quack booth on the boardwalk. “Show me what you’ve got, Bonnie.”

  Amy lifted the pellet gun and fired off a volley of shots, knocking over three metal ducks stuttering in a jerky conga line.

  “Wow.” Toff whistled. “You’re a good shot.”

  Amy lowered her weapon and flashed him a cocky grin. “Pick your prize, Clyde.”

  “You can pick from the second row.” The duck-booth girl hooked her thumb over her shoulder to three rows of stuffed animals tacked to the wall behind her.

  “I’ll take that one.” He pointed to a penguin in the top row and flashed her his flirtiest smile. The booth girl blinked like she was in a daze, then retrieved a stuffed penguin from an overflowing bin.

  “Cheater,” Amy huffed, rolling her eyes and heading for the next game booth. “She said the second row, not the top one.”

  He caught up to her in a few quick strides. “I can’t help it if that girl got distracted.” He patted the penguin’s head. “Thanks for the prize, Ames,” he said, dipping his voice low as they left the booth. “I’m gonna sleep with it every night.”

  Amy practically growled next to him, making him laugh. “You couldn’t rein it in for a million dollars.”

  “Rein what in?” He blinked innocently, giving his eyelashes an extra flutter just to rile her.

  “You know exactly what I mean.” Her gaze slid down to his bare chest peeking out from his half-zipped hoodie. “Why don’t you ever wear a shirt?”

  He tossed her a lazy smile. “I need to air out my wound.”

  Her coppery eyes flashed with frustration…or was that something else? Something way more intriguing?

  She tried to storm off again, but he reached out and caught her by the belt loop on her shorts.

  “Freeze, gunslinger.”

  She turned, her gaze darting to his pecs, then away, but he didn’t miss how she blushed. Reluctantly, he let go of her belt loop.

  “Here. Hold Rico.” He tossed the penguin to her and shrugged out of his hoodie, tossing that her way, too. He snagged his T-shirt from the waistband of his shorts.

  “Rico?” Her voice sounded far away as he tugged the shirt over his head.

  He popped his head through the neck hole. “From the Madagascar movies. Remember?”

  “Um…”

  “You don’t remember Rico?”

  “Not really. I mean, I saw the movies, but I don’t remember the specific penguins.”

  Pretending to be shocked, he snatched Rico from her arms. “Don’t listen to her, buddy,” he whispered where the ear would be hiding under a few feathers, if this were a legit replica. Which it was not.

  Amy’s lips parted slightly; then she laughed, a throaty sound he felt all the way down to his toes. An electric jolt shot through his body, switching his focus to female anatomy instead of penguin anatomy.

  “Do you want your hoodie back?” Amy asked, flicking his hoodie like she was a bull trainer and he was the bull.

  “Keep it. You might get cold later.”

  She hesitated, then tied his hoodie around her waist, making his chest swell like a caveman who’d just clubbed a mastodon. Weird.

  “What’s next, Ames?”

  She glanced up and down the boardwalk. “Come on.”

  Two minutes later, they stood in line at a painted wooden facade of a sailor dude holding a mermaid, with the faces cut out for photos ops.

  “You look like that mermaid,” he said, “with all that red hair.” He grinned. “And the sparkles.”

  “Wrong.” She unleashed that sassy-sweet smile he liked so much. “Today you’re the mermaid. I’m the sailor.”

  He blinked, then laughed. “Maybe you should fire me. You’ve got plenty of swagger tonight, Bonnie.”

  A sunburned tourist took their picture as they posed behind the facade, faces peeking through the cutout holes. “You two are adorable,” the woman gushed, handing Toff his phone. “How long have you been dating?”

  “Uh…” Toff’s mind went blank.

  “We’re not,” Amy said quickly. “He’s my coach.”

  “Oh? What sport?”

  Amy smirked. “Running from the cops. Penguin stealing. You know, Bonnie and Clyde stuff.”

  “You made your coach proud, Bonnie,” Toff said as the tourist scurried off. “Bringin’ the swaggah.”

  He moved to the railing, leaning against it as he tweeted and Instagrammed their mermaid and sailor photo, tagging @RedheadRecs and adding their shipping hashtag.

  “What are you doing?” Amy asked, joining him at the railing and eyeing him suspiciously.

  He glanced up. “We’ve been over this, Bonnie. Trust your coach.”

  The breeze kicked up, swirling Amy’s hair around her face. She turned toward the ocean, a secretive smile curving her lips. Toff took a quick photo of her and posted it, too.

  #BonnieandClyde

  #MyMermaid

  “You’d better not be stirring up our shippers,” she warned. “The buzz has been fun, but I want the focus on books, my reviews.”

  Uh-oh.

  She turned toward him, leaning against the railing. “It’s hard for me to compete with…” She waved her hand at him again, like she had earlier. “All this.”

  “But I’m your coach, not your competition.”

  “I know, but you kind of suck up all the air in the room. Online, too.” She flashed her new sweet and sassy smile.

  Crap. Should he delete the posts? Or trust his gut?

 
He hadn’t been wrong about anything Amy-related yet. And really, she was underselling herself. Maybe her book planet thought they were a cute ship, but they mostly engaged with Amy, talking about books. She was doing a great job keeping up with the comments, making jokes and references he didn’t get.

  She needed this, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  …

  After a Skee-Ball showdown, which she won, Toff leaned against an arcade machine, watching Amy turn the crank on one of those old-school machines that imprinted tourist scenes onto pennies. Hanging out with her was more fun than he’d had with a girl in a long time. Maybe ever.

  When the stamped penny dropped into the slot, she squealed. He grinned, thinking about the hero in the Redo book, when he helped the chick plant a garden. Toff thought it was dorky when the guy said dirt on her nose was sexy or whatever, but watching Amy’s smile light up her face playing silly games? He could see the guy’s point.

  “Look!” Amy practically skipped over to him, holding a stretched-out copper oval coin stamped with an image of the boardwalk.

  As he examined the penny, a sudden, intense memory washed over him. He was eight years old again, standing right here with his mom, turning the crank for her. Mom was wrapped up in layers, even though the day was warm. A scarf was tied around her head because of the chemo, though he didn’t know that word then.

  “Oh, Toff,” she’d teased, coughing as she spoke. “Look how strong you’re getting, turning that crank by yourself.” Mom dug more coins from her wallet with shaky hands. “Make another one, sweetie. Then we’ll have matching pennies.”

  He’d known she was sick, but at the time he had no idea how ill she really was. His parents hadn’t told him until the very end.

  “Toff? Are you okay?”

  He exhaled roughly and blinked, commanding himself to focus on the girl he was supposed to be coaching. His body was clenched tight, and his brain was fuzzy.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m good.” He tried to force conviction into his voice but failed.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows dipped.

  Why’d she have to make worrying look cute?

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He sounded like a jerk, even to himself. “Sorry,” he said roughly. “I just remembered something about my mom. Something I’d forgotten.” Somewhere at home were two stretched-out carousel pennies. He had to find them.

  Amy held his gaze, then reached out for his hand. “Come on. It’s my turn to coach you.”

  He let her tug him away from the penny machine. Her grip was warm and reassuring, like she was anchoring him, but to what he didn’t know.

  She led them to the Dippin’ Dots line, where they waited behind a couple of bouncing little kids. “You want your own or do you share?”

  He studied her, slowly emerging from his mom fog. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her with the freezing-cold ice-cream pebbles in his mouth. “I can share.”

  “That was a test,” she teased. “I don’t share my Dots with anybody.” Grinning, she turned to the Dots scooper and ordered two servings.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He tightened his grip on Amy’s hand, just in case she thought her coaching duty was finished, and fished out his phone with his free hand.

  Viv: Will you help me decorate for the engagement party? It’ll be fun.

  “Toff. Toff.” Amy extricated her hand from his to take the Dippin’ Dots from the server.

  “Sorry.” He shoved his phone in his pocket and followed her down the pier jutting out into the ocean.

  “Thanks.”

  They ate silently, watching the gulls swoop and dive, people playing on the beach, and, out in the distance, surfers cresting the waves that should’ve been his. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  His phone buzzed again. He knew it was Viv, but he wasn’t ready to answer her.

  “Are you busy next Friday?” The question popped out without his permission.

  “Why do you ask?” Amy looked wary, not the reaction he was hoping for.

  “Are you busy or not?” He sounded desperate, even to himself.

  Her expression softened. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  He dropped his gaze to the melting dots. “Good. I need you to do something with me,” he said roughly, then shoved another spoonful of Dots into his mouth.

  “What’s going on?”

  Toff sighed, his gaze tracking the surfers. He recognized a couple of them from his team.

  “Toff,” Amy prompted. “What’s happening next Friday?”

  “Engagement party,” he muttered. “For my dad and Rose.” He braced for impact. She would go apeshit over this party. Get all gooey and romantic or whatever. Still, he wanted her there.

  “Of course I’ll go,” she said gently. Her mellow reaction surprised him, in a good way. Her fingertips brushed against his clenched fist like he was a wild animal and she was trying to calm him, which was sort of true. Slowly, he unclenched his fist, letting her lace her fingers through his.

  “Thanks.” He squeezed her hand, hoping the gesture said more than a single word could. It was time to answer the question she wasn’t asking. He owed her that much. “Let’s go.”

  They chucked their empty Dots containers and rejoined the noise and chaos of the boardwalk, holding hands.

  “I was eight when my mom died,” he said abruptly. “Almost ten years ago.”

  “I remember.”

  He glanced down at her, surprised. Of course she did. All the kids in his class had made him sympathy cards. He still had them. Somewhere.

  “I guess I never…” He took a deep breath. He had to keep talking. If he didn’t, he’d never be able to get through this story. “My mom’s parents stayed with us for about three months afterwards.” He swallowed. “They said it was the best way to honor my mom. They said taking care of my dad and me made it hurt less for them.”

  He remembered how his grandma read to him every night, even though he’d told her he was too old for that. After she and Gramps went back to Arizona, he’d tried to read himself to sleep, but he’d given up. It wasn’t the same as snuggling up with someone else and being read to. Like his grandma. Or his mom. Redo in the Rockies was the first time he’d read himself to sleep since he was a kid.

  Amy didn’t know how big of a deal that was for him.

  He swung their hands between them as they walked, gathering his thoughts. He liked how she waited instead of bugging him to keep talking. “My dad didn’t date much, or if he did, he hid it from me.”

  There was one time, he was maybe eleven, when he’d gotten up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and had run into a half-naked woman in the kitchen doing the same. He wasn’t sure who’d been more embarrassed. She’d been gone by the time he woke up the next morning.

  Throngs of people swarmed them. Music blared from the performers lining the pier hustling for cash. It was dusk, and the Ferris wheel lit up like a spinning beacon in the sky. Amy tilted her head back to watch.

  “Want to ride?” Toff squeezed her hand. He wouldn’t mind stealing another kiss, maybe getting stuck at the top of the wheel, if they got lucky.

  Amy turned to him, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. “Not really. I don’t like heights.”

  “That’s cool. We’ll skip it.”

  “Really?” Relief filled her eyes. “You’re not going to make me ride it as a ‘swagger’ lesson?”

  He frowned, a flicker of karaoke guilt pinching his gut. “Not if you’re scared.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, a warm, open smile that made him want to keep talking.

  “No problem. Besides, if I don’t finish telling you my tragic backstory, you won’t get a chance to hear it again.”

  “Toff. Don’t joke about that.” Her tone was soft, sympathetic.

  He didn’t want pity.

 
“Anyway,” he continued, tugging her along next to him. “Like I was saying, my dad didn’t date for a long time. I don’t know if he did secret Tinder hookups or what, but—”

  “Toff! Stop it.” Amy yanked at his hand, laughing but scowling at the same time. He held on tight, not wanting to let go of her hand. It was easier to joke about hard stuff. That’s why class clown had been his default mode for so long.

  He dragged her into a souvenir shop crowded with tourists. He’d never held a girl’s hand this long in his life. At a spinning hat stand, he released her hand and grabbed a tie-dyed beanie hat embroidered with Surf Naked and tugged it on his head.

  “Yes or no?” He pointed to himself, and she shook her head. “How about this?” He set Rico down, tossed her the hat, and held up a T-shirt. Save a Wave, Ride a Surfer. “Yes or no?”

  Blushing, she shook her head again.

  “You’re right. You should wear this, not me.” He tossed it to her, grinning wickedly.

  She caught the shirt and put it back where it belonged. “Finish your story.”

  He held up another shirt. Surfers Know How to Get Up and Stay Up.

  “Toff.” She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or smack him.

  Being with her felt so good. Easy. Fun. Fiery.

  Safe.

  Right. Finish the story.

  He grabbed a fidget spinner from a display, twirling it between his fingers. “Okay, so sometime during freshman year, Viv and I figured out our parents were getting together.”

  Amy’s eyebrows shot up, and he laughed.

  “Not like that, but doing stuff together. Movies, concerts, whatever.” He shrugged. “Just the two of them. That went on for a while, but they never said they were dating.”

  Amy waited patiently, but he could tell she was hooked. She ate this stuff up just like she inhaled books.

  “One night, Viv texted me freaking out because she’d woken up at three in the morning and her mom wasn’t home yet. My dad wasn’t home, either.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “I was the one to break it to Viv they were together in a motel in Huntington Beach.” He waved his cell around. “Live 360. Kid stalker and parent stalker.”