by Sara Ney
“You were reading it,” I point out, grabbing a hunk of bread out of the communal bread basket, then peeling the tabs back on two tiny pats of butter. I spread them on before shoving the hunk in my mouth, chewing slowly.
“But it’s mine. I—” Tabitha clamps her mouth shut.
I swallow before responding. “Wrote it? Yeah, I know.” Her mouth falls open. “And you don’t trust me with it.”
“Look, we could sit here all night—”
“Excellent.” I lay down the butter knife and sit back, crossing my arms. Noticing with satisfaction, her eyes follow my movements, up the length of my ripped arms, landing on the hard muscles of my biceps.
I flex.
She rolls her eyes.
“Jeez, would you knock it off? I’m not falling for that.” Tabitha gives her head an agitated shake, her silky blonde hair floating around her shoulders in waves. “And stop trying to bait me into an argument.”
“Bait you? Bait you? What the…” Realization sets in. “Ahhhh, a slutty romance book word. I like it.”
Her forehead lands with a thud onto the tabletop. She lets out a loud, tortured groan. “Oh my god.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I soothe. “It’s a really good book. Sort of.” I lift the menu, scanning the appetizers. “I mean, it’s not winning any Pulitzer Prizes for literature, but I did particularly like the part where Rachel finally loses her virginity. It took long enough though—more than halfway into the book? Come on, Rachel, show some hustle.”
“We are not having this conversation.”
She’s so cute.
“Look, all I’m saying is, Rachel could have shown more sense of urgency. Wasn’t the whole point of the book for her to get laid?”
Tabitha lifts her head and wrinkles her nose—her adorable, pert little nose. “No, that wasn’t the point of the book, and you do not get to give feedback on the plot. It’s bad enough that you know I wrote it. I don’t even know how you knew.”
“Seriously, Tab? I would think that was pretty obvious. I mean, your pen name is basically your name, so…”
“It is not!”
“Tabitha Elizabeth Thompson. TE Thomas? Really? What kind of a moron do you think I am?”
“No one is supposed to know.” She says it in such a small voice I have to strain to hear her across the noisy din of Finches.
“What do you mean no one is supposed to know? Does your family know?” I lay my palms flat on the table. “It’s awesome that you wrote a book. Tabitha—you wrote a book.”
She’s silent, so I continue. “Help me understand why someone beautiful, intelligent, and so obviously clever would hide the fact that she wrote a novel. Why won’t you tell people?”
She hides her face in her palms and mumbles, “Because. It’s embarrassing.”
As if that explains everything.
“What is?”
She sits up straighter then and blows out a frustrated little puff of air, causing delicate wisps of light blonde hair to float around her face. She tilts her head back, and it hits the red leather back of the booth. After staring at the ceiling for a few heartbeats, Tabitha raises her head and looks me directly in the eye. “If I hadn’t written a romance, I would probably tell people. Maybe if the book wasn’t as explicit as it is. But I don’t want my parents to know I wrote something so…”
Her hands come up and do this little lilty thing in the air that girls do when they can’t find the right words to finish a sentence.
I decide to help her out. “Porn-ish?”
“No! It’s not porn, it’s…” Again with the hand waves.
“Whore-ish?”
“No! Collin, stop.” A smile teases her lips and her eyes, well—those are gazing at me all wide and sparkly. Laughing. Fucking intense is what those gorgeous eyes are, and they’re directed at me. “It’s… it’s…”
“Literotica?”
This stops her train of thought and she looks at me, her face twisted up in obvious confusion. “Wait. What?”
“What? You’ve never heard of Literotica and you write it?” She shakes her head slowly. “Don’t worry, I hadn’t either. It popped up in the search results when I Googled your pen name.”
I pick up the water glass and calmly slurp through the straw. The sound makes Tabitha scowl. “Anyway, it’s basically written to turn people on. Like porn. But you know—in writing.”
“I was going to say that my writing is risqué.” Tabitha rolls her eyes; they appear even bluer on her blushing, bright red face. “My book is not erotica. That’s not what it’s about and you know it. Stop making fun of me. It has an actual plot, and a storyline, and a climax.”
A snort escapes my nose.
“Without trying to get myself into deeper trouble, can I just point something out?” I lift the menu again to study the entrées, casually perusing it before coolly pointing out the obvious. “You just said climax.”
Her arms go up in defeat. “See? This is why I can’t tell my family! Put that menu down!”
Holding the menu higher, I block out the glacial stare I know is being directed my way. Her exasperated voice drifts over the top with a huff, and she gives the plastic menu a poke with her finger to regain my attention.
“Would you put down that menu? Collin Keller, we are not staying for dinner.”
Shit. I kind of like it when she says my name like that, all pissed off and agitated. Collin Keller, we are not staying for dinner! So fucking cute.
I put down the menu and pretend to be confused. “But it’s dinner time. Aren’t you hungry?”
She rolls those gorgeous, baby blues again. “I had a late lunch. On purpose.”
What a fiery little hothead she is.
I like it.
My fingers drum the tabletop in thought. “So I’ve been thinking, I know you said you don’t consider this a date, but—”
“Hold it right there.” Her palm goes up to stop me from finishing my sentence. “This is not a date. A date is getting dressed up, going somewhere nice, and getting to know someone.”
“Kind of like what we’re doing right now?”
“That is not what we’re doing right now. Right now we are making an exchange.”
I disagree and it shows on my face. “What do I get in return?”
“Nothing. I get my book and you get nothing.”
“Well, gee, when you put it that way… my end of the deal sounds shitty.”
We’re interrupted at that moment by the waiter, who steps forward with his pad of paper, pen hovering at the ready. “Have you decided on anything yet, or do you need a few minutes?”
I expect Tabitha to grab her messenger bag and slide her sexy self out of the booth, but instead, she surprises me by grabbing her menu with a resigned huff, scanning it briefly, and saying, “I’ll have the black angus cheeseburger, medium rare, with a side of fries. Extra pickles. Oh, and an iced tea please.”
She sighs and hands the waiter back his menu. “You made me come here. This is what you get in exchange.”
“A non-date date?”
She folds her arms across her fantastic breasts. “Exactly. I’m just not sure dating you would be a good decision for either of us.”
I watch her the entire time I give my order to the waiter. “Double cheeseburger medium rare, cheese curds, ranch on the side.” I hand the menu over, Tabitha’s earlier agitation making me chuckle. “Why isn’t dating me a good decision? And why do you have to say it with that look of disgust on your face. I’m kind of insulted.”
“Several reasons, and I’ll gladly list them off for you. First, you’re Greyson’s brother—you don’t think that’s weird?”
“I refuse to discuss it. Next.” I watch the kitchen’s service door swing back and forth, willing the food to come out though we just placed our orders.
I’m fucking starving.
And not just for food.
Tabitha prattles on across from me. “Second, we got off on the wrong foot. I freake
d out at the coffee shop, and now this dating thing could be awkward for us.”
“Quit bringing that shit up. Trust, me, you’ll get over it. I did. Next.”
Now she’s ticking items off on her fingers, bobbing her cute little head as she counts. “Third, you just moved back into the area. Don’t you want to see what’s on the market? There are a lot of attractive women in this city.”
“Been there, done that. Next!” Shit, maybe I said that one a little too loudly—the couple at the neighboring table crane their necks in our direction.
“You’re really annoying.”
I ignore her complaining. “Are you looking forward to dinner? I’m ravenous.” I chuckle, delighted with my own wit. “How’s that for smut romance lingo?”
“Meh.” She gives me a flirty little wink. “Not bad.”
I take that as a good sign. “How bout a glass of wine?”
She sighs, defeated. “I guess I could use some alcohol to calm my nerves, but wine doesn’t really go with a burger. How ‘bout a beer?” Tabitha reaches for her water, taking a dainty sip before continuing. “You don’t want to play the field? Casually date?”
“What am I, nineteen? No.” I reach for her hand across the table and pull it towards me. She lets me. “Look, we could do this all night, Tabitha. But I’d rather just enjoy your company.” She bites down on her plump lower lip. It’s driving me crazy. “God, I can’t even look at you without wanting to put my mouth on you.”
“Oh my god, you can’t just say things like that!” she hisses, mortified.
“You’re kidding me, right? You write sex books for a living.”
“Shh! No one is supposed to know that.” Her hand settles into mine and her thumb begins distractedly stroking my palm. “And that’s not what I do for a living.”
“But that is what you want to be doing, right?”
She frowns. “What I want and what’s best for me are two totally different things. I can’t leave my dad’s business until Cal is ready to take on more responsibility.”
“Is that what your parents told you?”
“Well, no—”
“And you don’t think they want you to be happy, Tabitha?”
When I say her name, she looks up from our joined hands. “Have you always just done what you wanted? As if it were easy?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
She bites down on her lip again and gives her head a gloomy little shake. “I thought working for my parents was what I always wanted. It’s the only thing I knew.” She scoffs. “Hell, my degree is in Business with an emphasis on Construction Management, for crying out loud. It’s the only thing I’m qualified for. How sad is that?”
“You’re incredible. I am actually in awe of you right now.”
“Collin, stop.” She tugs her hand out of my grip and sets it in her lap.
“Why should I? You need to hear it.”
“I do hear it. My family tells me they love me all the time.”
I disagree. Being told you’re loved and being given the chance to make your own choices are not the same thing, but I keep that opinion to myself, choosing my next words wisely. “Then why are you hiding yourself from them?”
For a while, I don’t think she’s going to respond. Instead, her forlorn frown studies her hands, where she’s clasped them in her lap. Opening her palms, she spreads them wide, appearing, for the first time since I met her, young and vulnerable. “It’s because I’m scared.”
“Of what?” My words come out above a whisper.
“Of everything.”
I pause. “Well, that’s horseshit.”
Surprised laughter bursts from her lips. “You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking her blonde hair. “And kind of an ass.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
And when she does, she’ll like it.
I’ll be the first one to admit I’m actually enjoying myself on this non-date. Of course, I won’t be admitting that to anyone out loud anytime soon. Or in writing.
Well, okay—maybe in writing. After all, I still need a storyline for my second book, and Collin makes the perfect muse for the hero: strong, handsome, charming…
Tenacious. Disarming. Alluring.
I sip this disgusting beer and sigh, watching him retreat to the men’s room, my rapt gaze trailing after and landing on his tight, firm, denim-clad ass. He’s been incredibly attentive, respectful (sort of, for the most part), and funny. Intelligent. Not to mention really, really ridiculously good looking.
Crap.
Now I sound like freaking Derek Zoolander.
And I mentioned he’s funny, right? It’s a pretty lethal combination, and if he weren’t Greyson’s brother… and I hadn’t acted like a complete bitch when we first met, well…
There might be a slight chance I’d date him.
Oh, who am I trying to kid? I’d date the shit out of him in a heartbeat because nice, funny, respectful guys aren’t easy to find. In fact, they’ve become more of an urban legend than a reality.
However, the fact remains: he is Grey’s brother, and for whatever reason, I find the thought of dating him a bit strange. Weird. Creepy, even.
For me, it feels like fishing for a boyfriend in the family pond.
You just don’t do it.
I give myself a pep talk, reminding myself to quit gushing. This thing with Collin Keller is not happening...
I will say this though: he’s going to be hard to resist.
Fortunately, I deal with impossible, sometimes arrogant, men at work on a daily basis, so his persistence should be a piece of cake.
Theoretically.
I’ll just enjoy his company tonight, and in the future we can causally bump into each other at family functions. This attraction thing is no big deal; I can handle it. I am a fortress of feminine willpower. I’ve taken all the feminist classes in college. Women’s Studies. How to be an Independent Woman 101.
I’ll plop Collin deftly into the Friend Zone category, right where he belongs, and that will be that.
It won’t be weird at all.
Yup, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
The waiter comes with our food and refills while Collin is in the bathroom, and to busy myself, I prep my burger, adding the garnishes and extra pickles. Dipping the burger in ketchup, I take a huge bite and chew.
It’s so delicious I actually whimper into my next bite.
My thoughts stray to Collin, and I shake my head. Get a grip, Tabitha. He is not the guy for you. If you get close to him, the carefully erected wall you built will come crashing down around you…
I’m so committed to not falling under his spell, I avoid looking directly at him when he re-approaches the booth and drops himself down with a cheeky grin. A grin full of white teeth. I don’t look away quick enough and can’t help but notice one of his bottom teeth is just a tad bit crooked.
Irresistible.
So irresistible that my stomach does that fluttering thing again, followed by my annoying, rapidly beating heart.
Sweaty palms.
A nervous giggle, and I slap a palm over my mouth, horrified. My traitorous body apparently belongs to a hormonal teenage girl.
It has terrible timing.
Blare twisted a lock of her brown hair and regarded Adam from across the booth, her eyes riveted on his full lips and five o’clock shadow. His words sent shivers down her spine every time he opened his mouth to talk—a mouth she wanted all over her body. Of course, she couldn’t admit this out loud—not until she knew how he really felt. He smiled again and laid his palms flat on the table. “Stop teasing me,” Blare said, giving her brunette locks an agitated shake, her silky hair floating around her shoulders in waves. “You’re trying to bait me into an argument, Adam, and it won’t work.”
“Bait you? What the hell does that even mean?” The dawning of realization sets in and Adam laughs, rich and deep and throaty. A laugh that makes Blare want to climb across the table on all fours and straddle
his lap. “Ah, a word from one of those slutty romances you’re always reading. I like it.” He winks at her and she drops her head onto the tabletop with a loud thump, letting out a groan. How humiliating. “Oh my god.”
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Thank you. Again.
Collin, thank you for bringing my book back, and for dinner last night. I’m sorry the check ripped in half when I grabbed it, trying to split the bill with you. If I’d known you had the world’s strongest vise grip, I wouldn’t have bothered. Tabitha
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: You’re welcome. Again.
Tabitha, don’t worry about it. I’m sure the waiter enjoyed taping the whole thing back together after we left. Know what he probably enjoyed even more? Seeing you slap my hand away when I tried helping you out of the booth. The expression on his face was priceless.
CK
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Helped me out of the booth?
I think you’re remembering it wrong. You weren’t trying to HELP me out of the booth. You were trying to touch my ass—the SAME ass you called BONY only two weeks prior. Now what do you have to say for yourself? Tabitha
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Your ass?
I’ll admit, I was hasty in my judgment of your ASSets. Your rear is in no way bony. Especially in those black yoga pants you had on last night. I realize it was your attempt to appear dowdy and less attractive, but you failed miserably. Those pants did nothing but showcase your second best feature.
CK
Collin: You’re adorable when you’re nervous.
Tabitha: What are you talking about? When was I nervous?
Collin: I’m thinking about dinner the other night, when I came back from the bathroom. When you tried to mask your laugh. You shouldn’t have covered it up.