The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  Shit.

  Toff pounded the steering wheel in frustration. He tried all his tricks to restart the engine, but his beast had rolled over to play dead. He glanced at his phone: 9:05. Book club was just starting. The meeting would last at least an hour, hopefully longer.

  No way was he giving up. He could still make it in time if someone picked him up in twenty minutes or so, then drove straight to the bookstore. He tugged at his wet hair. All his surf buds were at the comp. Viv was with Amy, probably plotting his death, since he hadn’t shown up yet.

  Heart pounding, Toff texted a Batman signal to his ride-or-die friend who always came through, even when he screwed up massively. He hoped like hell Batman wasn’t busy.

  He jumped out of the van, pacing up and down. His cell rang.

  Dad. Crap.

  “I told you to turn your location services back on so I can see where the hell you are,” Dad barked.

  “Morning to you, too.”

  Dad huffed into the phone. “Are you at the Spectacular?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” Dad sounded shocked.

  “I was,” Toff said, “but I left.” He stopped pacing and leaned against the van. “I made a smart decision for once.” Hopefully more than one. “I’m not one hundred percent. Wasn’t worth it.”

  Dad didn’t say anything for a long beat; then he chuckled into the phone. “I’ll be damned. You do have a brain.”

  “Looks like it,” Toff said, grinning.

  “I’m proud of you. Sounds like it’s time for a serious conversation about you going pro”

  A jolt of adrenaline surged through Toff’s veins. “Awesome. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Love you, kid.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Toff ended the call, glanced down, and pulled at the wetsuit sticking to his skin. He’d blasted out of the comp, not wanting to waste time changing clothes. He checked his rearview mirror and grinned when he spotted the T-shirt he’d bought at Murder by the Sea after he’d given the cookies to the French chef. Rose hadn’t asked any questions when he bought it, but her smile said plenty.

  He’d never tried to win back a girl before, but at least he knew what to wear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Viv refilled the M&M’s bowl with a noisy clatter. The Lonely Hearts were plowing through the snacks today. Amy chalked it up to her enthusiastic reenactment of the Lucinda event.

  “So after the interview,” she continued, “my aunt took us to dinner at this fancy hotel. Guess what famous celebrity I saw in the lobby?”

  “Robert Redford,” Mrs. Sloane guessed.

  “Huh.” Megan frowned. “Is he still alive?”

  Rose gasped and put a hand to her heart. “Don’t you dare curse him to an early grave, Megan.”

  Viv smirked. “He’s old, Mom. He could bite it any day.”

  Rose glared. “Hush your mouth, child.”

  “So anyway,” Amy continued, “my cousins and I were posing for selfies when this extremely talented, incredibly gorgeous celebrity”—she clutched her chest and pretended to swoon—“photobombed us.” She dropped her voice dramatically. “Then he…he kissed me!”

  Gasps filled the room. She winked at Viv, who already knew the story but was sworn to secrecy. Amy flung out her arms with a flourish. “It was—”

  Crash! The door flew open, banging against the wall. Toff rushed into the room, followed by Dallas. Amy stared, not sure whether to believe her own eyes.

  “So that’s where you snuck off to,” Viv said to Dallas, who shot her a wink and put a finger to his lips.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Toff said, his nervous gaze darting around the table, then settling on Amy, “but I need to talk to Amy. Now.”

  The group stared at him, stunned—except for Rose, who beamed at Toff like an indulgent mom.

  Amy couldn’t tear her eyes from Toff’s face. He looked deranged, his blond hair a wild, tangled mess, his nose and cheeks covered in a T-shape of white sunscreen. Deranged but still annoyingly hot.

  “I—um—just need to talk to her for a minute.” Toff swallowed and shot a desperate glance at Viv, who pointed to Dallas.

  “Guard the door, McNerd.”

  “Wait, what?” Toff said, his eyes wide and panicked. “I… We need a private conversation.”

  “You can’t expect us to leave after that entrance,” Mrs. Sloane said. “It’s been ages since I saw a good show.”

  Toff grimaced, and his neck blotched red. Her gaze drifted down his neck to his shirt… Wait. Amy blinked, reading his shirt three times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  Talk Darcy to Me.

  “Okay, then.” Toff took a deep breath and gestured to the table. He clutched a gift bag in one hand, the same one he’d brought to dinner. “I guess you all get to hear this.”

  He cleared his throat and locked eyes with her. “Congratulations on your interview. I checked out social media. You did great.”

  He ducked his head, his cheeks coloring underneath the sunblock. “I, um”—he heaved a shaky breath—“I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of. Stuff I wish I could undo.” He glanced at her. “I’m sorry, Amy. So, so sorry.” Desperation cracked his voice. His glorious blue eyes never left her face. “I’m an idiot, but you already know that.”

  Amy’s heart jackhammered when he took a step toward her. Though her brain was making a case that she shouldn’t give him another chance, her heart had opinions, too—very loud opinions that pounded at her rib cage. Plus, the Darcy shirt earned him about one thousand bonus points.

  Toff took another deep breath. She’d never seen him this nervous.

  “My whole life has been about competing,” he began. “I have so many trophies and medals, I’ve lost count—”

  “Twenty-one,” Dallas stage-whispered. “I have twenty-four.”

  Viv grinned and swished an imaginary three-pointer.

  “As I was saying,” Toff continued, clearly ready to throttle both Viv and Dallas, “I’d give up all my trophies to undo what I said and did.” His eyes softened. “I’d burn them into a pile of…of…metal goop or whatever, if I could have a do-over.”

  Amy sighed, and her heart cracked open even more, allowing Toff to step inside.

  Natasha sniffed dismissively. Rose scowled and passed her the bowl of candy. “You need sugar, Natasha,” Rose whispered. “A person can’t live on kale and seeds.”

  Toff looked ready to lose it. “Maybe everyone could, um, save their comments until I’m done.” He cleared his throat, taking a step toward her. “All my life, surfing was all I cared about. Winning is—was—everything.”

  The intensity pouring out of him almost knocked Amy over.

  “I still want to win, but I figured something out. All the wins in the world don’t mean anything if you can’t share them with the person you love.” He tugged at his shirt. His ridiculous, perfect shirt. “Or celebrate with the person you love when she wins.”

  Amy’s scalp tingled. Had he just said he loved her?

  “Are you okay?” she asked. Had he reinjured himself? Or not made it past his first heats? She’d fangirled him at enough comps to know that he should still be there if he was in top form.

  Toff’s cheeks reddened again. Was he embarrassed? A wave of sympathy rushed through Amy, and she realized she hadn’t wanted him to lose after all. She’d wanted him to win, just like she did.

  “He bailed,” Dallas piped up, slashing a finger across his throat. Toff launched a death ray from his eyeballs.

  “Bailed?” Amy couldn’t believe it. “I thought you wanted to beat Mack. Show him who’s the real Surfer God.”

  He met her gaze, but this time his were lit with something new. Something bright and hopeful.

  “Do you wish I had?”

&nb
sp; Amy nodded, and a hint of a smile curved his lips.

  “I bailed because I had something more important to do.”

  Hope filled her lungs, and she breathed it in deep. Her clenched heart slowly unfurled.

  Toff closed the gap between them.

  “Telling you I love you was a hell of a lot more important than winning.” He sucked in his bottom lip. “Also I needed to apologize for being a jackass.” He rolled his eyes. “Again.”

  His sincerity washed away any lingering doubts she had. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. God, she’d missed kissing him.

  Somebody wolf-whistled, followed by applause…and Mrs. Sloane’s surprisingly loud voice.

  “Is he a better kisser than that movie star?”

  Toff broke their kiss, panic flashing in his eyes. “You…you…kissed a…?”

  Amy held him tight and faced their rapt audience. “This is the part where the story fades to black.” She pointed to Mrs. Sloane. “Sorry, Mrs. S., but I’m putting you on probation.”

  She grabbed Toff’s hand and dragged him out of the employee kitchen and through the crowded bookstore to the sound of laughter and more applause.

  Outside, she headed straight for her kniffitied bench. The yarn had faded from all the time in the sun, but it still looked great, making her fizz with happiness when she thought back to the night Toff had rescued her.

  “Did you know there are three different species of rockhopper penguins?” Amy asked, pulling him down to sit next to her.

  His answering grin warmed her like sunshine blasting out from behind a cloud, lighting her up inside. “Depends on who you ask.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Some experts say there are two rockhopper species, others say just one.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you trying to impress me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s working.”

  “Good.” Amy scooted closer and smiled up at him. “It must’ve been tough for you, walking away from a comp.”

  “Nope,” he said. “It was the smart choice for my body, too. I can’t keep doing dumb stuff when I go pro.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head toward hers, touching his nose to hers. “After we graduate. After I take you to the Surfer Ball.”

  “Mm. No hot dog shack for dinner. You’ll have to take me back to The Reef,” she whispered. “For a redo.”

  “Redo at the Reef. Got a good ring to it.” He smiled against her lips, then pulled back. “Did you really kiss a movie star?” he whispered, his eyes clouded with worry. Or was that jealousy?

  “Yes.”

  His eye twitched, and he smashed his lips together.

  “He was so sweet.” Amy batted her eyelashes and gave him an impish smile. “Every girl in the hotel lobby wanted to snuggle with him.”

  Toff’s shoulders drooped, and he looked away. “I guess it’s none of my business what you did in LA, especially after the way I treated you.”

  She almost put him out of his misery, but she was having too much fun. “Want to see who it was? My cousin took pictures.” She exhaled an exaggerated, dreamy sigh. “He was so…mm…enthusiastic. We even fell off the couch.” She giggled.

  His face went pale. “I—I—don’t need to see pics,” he said faintly.

  She shoved her phone in his line of vision. “Don’t be a chicken, Clyde.”

  He side-eyed her phone, barely peeking at the screen; then he yanked it from her hands, his grin widening as he thumbed through the photos until he threw back his head and laughed.

  “Nice one, Bonnie. You had me going. Guess I deserved it.” He returned her phone. “I want to be there when you tell Mrs. Sloane you kissed a dog, not a real movie star.”

  “Not just any dog,” Amy corrected. “Brownie’s more famous than Clifford the Big Red Dog. I had to fight off a pack of wild children to get those puppy kisses.” She side-eyed Toff. “Too much tongue, though.”

  Toff wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. His lips brushed hers. “Maybe you should show me just how much tongue you like.”

  “Maybe I should.”

  She closed her eyes, ready for the kiss, but he stopped, jumping up from the bench.

  “Be right back!”

  “Where are you—”

  He ran toward the bookstore, weaving in and out of the crowd.

  “—going?” she whispered. What the heck?

  He returned in record time, out of breath, and handed her the slightly crumpled gift bag. “Here.” He grinned. “Better late than never, right?”

  “Finally!” Amy snatched the bag from his hands, giddy with anticipation.

  “Um, I’m not great at presents—”

  Amy squealed as she tore open the small package of hair clips. “I love them! Thank you!” She beamed up at him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly.

  “Sit,” she commanded, and he did. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then removed an oddly shaped package, haphazardly wrapped and taped in tissue paper.

  “Um, the next one is—” he began, then stopped when she sucked in a breath.

  She stared at the heart-covered van replica, putting the pieces together. “Was this in the bag the night of our horrible dinner?”

  Blushing, Toff nodded. Every swoony, squishy, starry-eyed feeling Amy had for him bubbled up and burst like a bottle of champagne, unleashing a torrent of happiness.

  “What?” he asked, his eyebrows knotting.

  “You said you were still trying to figure stuff out that night.” She tapped the roof of the little van. “But I think you already had.” She held it up, examining it closely. “Ohh, look. It even has a love nest.” She grinned at him. “Just like yours.”

  Toff cleared his throat, blushing again. “I, um, just picked something that called to me, like Claire said.”

  Amy gave him another kiss on the cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, glancing down and fidgeting with one of her knitted flowers. “I, uh…” He looked up, his eyes searching hers. “Will you…” He winced like he was in pain. “I suck at this,” he muttered.

  “You don’t,” Amy said, her heart doing the samba in her chest. “Just say it.”

  “Okay.” He swallowed, reaching for her hand. “I quit as your coach. You don’t need one anymore. Maybe you never did.” He shrugged. “But I’m glad you thought you did, because otherwise we never would’ve…you know.” He shrugged again, neck reddening, and her heart ramped up its samba.

  “Get to the point, Clyde,” she whispered, leaning in and cupping his face in her hands. “Don’t make me do everything.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Bonnie. Will you be the other half of our real, not fake, OTP?”

  “Are you asking me—”

  “To be my official girlfriend? Yes.” He rested his forehead on hers, grazing her lips with his. “Please.”

  “Yes,” Amy whispered as her heart leaped and twirled, making up its own dance moves. “A thousand times yes.”

  “One last thing,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Selfie time. Kiss me like you mean it, babe.”

  Amy laughed, kissing him with all the feelings she didn’t have to hide anymore, not at all worried about PDA in the middle of Main Street. She heard Toff’s phone clatter to the ground, but he didn’t stop kissing her for a long time.

  When they finally stopped to catch their breath, Toff grabbed his phone.

  “Damn, this is hotter than our #BookFaceFriday photos. Prepare for our ship to explode.” He blasted her with the double dimples. “Hashtag BonnieandClydeForever. Hashtag BonnieandClydeTheRealOTP.”

  “Hashtag SurfersAreTrouble. But worth it.”

  Still grinning, Toff set his phone aside and wrapped h
is arms around her. Amy sighed against him as they melted into another deliciously steamy, book-worthy kiss.

  Happily Ever After, Happy for Now, whatever this was, Amy was embracing it.

  No regrets.

  EPILOGUE

  Amy, Toff, and Brayden sat on the couch in her family room eating popcorn and watching Surf’s Up. Amy snuggled up next to Toff, who wore his Talk Darcy to Me shirt again. She wished her parents had taken Brayden with them to run errands.

  “Pay attention, dude,” Toff warned Brayden, who was playing Cranky Cows on his phone. Brayden ignored him, until he reached out and snatched the phone from his hands.

  “Hey!” Brayden yelped, gaping at Toff.

  “This movie is a classic. No distractions. No talking.” He pinned Brayden with his scary coach glare, making Amy laugh.

  “Whatever,” her brother grumbled, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Amy’s lap.

  Toff flicked an M&M at Brayden’s head, then winked at Amy. “Kissing is allowed.”

  “Gross.” Brayden side-eyed them, scooted to the other end of the couch, and called Goldi up to be his blockade from the potential kissers.

  Halfway through the movie, even though kissing was allowed, they hadn’t. Amy was okay with that, because Toff was completely, adorably sucked into the story he’d probably watched one hundred times. Brayden was, too, making Amy’s heart squeeze.

  “Guess what?”

  Dad’s booming voice startled them from their daze. Amy grabbed the remote to pause the movie as her parents rushed into the room.

  “You!” Dad exclaimed, grinning and pointing at Toff. “Come ’ere, Cupcake Kid!”

  Mom clasped her hands under her chin, beaming at Toff.

  “What’s going on?” Amy asked, baffled. Toff looked as confused as she felt.

  “Is Toff in trouble?” Brayden asked. Amy shot him a stink eye.

  Toff eased himself out of Amy’s embrace and stood up, his gaze darting nervously between her parents. “Um, what’s up?”

  “What’s up?” Dad echoed. “What’s up is that thanks to you, Cupcake Kid, I have a new job! A great one. Get over here.” Dad pulled Toff into a giant bear hug.