Chapter 4
Dax
After finishing my early morning training session, I hit the streets of downtown, the sun just beginning to flex its muscles and warm the air. The area was already buzzing, a hive of activity that matched my own energy. The smell of black coffee from a nearby cafe cut through the spring air, sharp and invigorating
Perfect. Just like the precise form I demanded from my clients during a deadlift.
My trip to the health store had left me disappointed—they were out of the detox juice cleanse I swore by for my post-workout recovery, so I’d have to snag it online now instead.
“Morning, Dax!” Samuel waved from across the street.
“Samuel. How’s it going?” I made my way over, my boots smacking the concrete.
“Hard to have complaints when the weather’s this generous.” He pushed up his glasses. “That reading challenge you cooked up—swapping genres with Paris—is a bold move, my friend.”
“Not gonna lie, I’m pumped for the dare.” My attempt to keep a straight face failed, a real smile breaking through at the thought of spending time with Paris. “And if this is what it takes to get Paris hooked on horror, consider me ready.”
“And you’ll really read a romance or two?”
“Of course. There’s no backing down in the gym and the same goes here.”
Samuel clapped me on the back. “You’ve got guts, Dax. I’ve got to say, I don’t shy away from a romance novel when it’s the club’s pick. And I applaud your strategy. It’s definitely...inventive.” His expression gleamed with shrewdness, and I knew he saw right through me.
“Strategy?” I cleared my throat, feigning ignorance. “The swap is all in the spirit of broadening our horizons. Purely bookish pursuits.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Samuel glanced toward the sky where a kite floated lazily, its ribbon tail tangling with the branches of an oak.
“Well, yeah. The genre swap is an experiment. Like a new training session to build up the muscle of the mind.”
“So you say, yet I can’t help wondering if you have alternative motives for joining the book club.” His voice lowered as if someone might overhear us. “Instead of going through all this subterfuge, have you considered just asking Paris out on a proper date?”
The way my heart kicked against my ribcage was downright mutinous like I’d just finished a triathlon. The mere thought of dating Paris, of sitting across from her at a candlelit table sent an electric jolt through my veins, igniting a fire I’d been suppressing for far too long.
Yeah, joining the book club was a ploy to get her attention.
What had caught my interest wasn’t Paris’s skill at running her own bookshop or her dedicated bookstagram feed, but the strength and independence she showed. In a world where physical strength was my domain, it was her mental fortitude and steadfast commitment to doing things her own way that stood out to me. She was unlike anyone else in town, which positively made an impression. Plus, she was hot.
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come now. You’ve got a soft spot for her, don’t you? You’re a man of depth—attentive, engaging, and you’re willing to go the extra mile for someone you care about.”
I sighed, resignation threading through my voice. “There’s definitely something about her that’s got me hooked. But she seems to prefer those overly romantic dudes, knights on horseback declaring their love in verse. And I’m not that guy.”
Samuel chuckled. “Dax, my boy, Paris is special, yes. She doesn’t date often, and I think it’s because she’s waiting for someone who can match her wit and uniqueness. And between you and me, I think you fit the bill better than any Byron-quoting equestrian.”
“Is that right?” The question popped out before I could stop it, and my skepticism must’ve been painted on my face because Samuel grinned wider.
“Believe in yourself! You’ve got more to offer than you think.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know…”
Samuel slapped me on the shoulder. “Paris appreciates authenticity, and that’s you, my friend. Be brave!”
It was a cruel twist of fate to be smitten with a woman who likely saw me as nothing more than just another local guy, a gym rat. Yet I was a grown man of thirty-five, reduced to a bundle of nerves at the prospect of asking Paris out. The irony was not lost on me—a man who prided himself on his discipline and control, now struggling with an all-consuming infatuation.
I’d always believed in the power of mind over matter, in the ability to sculpt not only the body but also the spirit through sheer force of will. I’d spent countless hours in the gym, honing my physique and coaching others to do the same, preaching the gospel of clean living and mental fortitude. Yet, when it came to Paris, all my carefully cultivated self-mastery evaporated in her presence.
“Guess you have a point…” My gaze focused on Prose & Positivity further down the street. “If I can face down a grueling workout routine, I should be able to handle real-life relationships...right?”
“Right. So, when are you planning to make your move?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Although a plan was already forming in my mind. “During the genre swap, I wanna get to know her better.”
Samuel bobbed his head. “Well, my friend, I wish you the best of luck. Because I have a feeling you two might just be the perfect match.” He glanced at his wristwatch and let out a low whistle. “Oh, would you look at the time! I better get going if I want to squeeze in a round of golf before I meet my next client.”
“Enjoy your game, Samuel. And thanks for the pep-talk.” I smiled, genuinely grateful for his support.
With a final wave, Samuel ambled off towards his car parked at the curb.
Samuel was right—I had to believe in myself if I wanted to win Paris’s heart. She might be out of my league, but I had to at least try. After all, isn’t that what the characters in my favorite novels always did? They slayed monsters and conquered their fears.
Strolling along the sidewalk, I spotted Paris outside her pink bookshop—my heart performing an acrobatic stunt at the sight of her. Ironic, considering I had just been wrestling with the idea of her ever considering me as more than just a friend.
Approaching her I aimed for nonchalance, hoping to mask the fact that I’d been thinking about her nonstop since the book club meeting. I halted near her on the sidewalk.
“Hey, Paris. Fancy meeting you here. It’s almost like you work here or something.”
She looked up from her phone, startled, and it took a moment for recognition to dawn in those mesmerizing blue eyes of hers. And when it did, a slow grin spread across her face—the kind of smile that could make even the grumpiest of nonreaders crack a spine.
“Hey, Dax.” She shifted the phone to her other hand. “I was just considering shots for my Instagram account. Trying to capture the essence of my bibliophile kingdom in a single frame.”
“How about posing with a new romance release? Or a cute shot of you reading to your feline overlord?”
Even though romance wasn’t my normal genre, I found myself wanting to know more about the stories that captured her heart. And I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her about her adorable cat.
“Great ideas and I have taken similar pics...” She launched into a description of her other posts, her expression shiny with passion.
The way she spoke about books—like they were precious gifts waiting to be discovered—made me see them in a whole new light. It was like she had the power to make even the most mundane things seem captivating.
“Are you ready for your first horror read?” I wore a sly grin. “Because I have the perfect book for you. It’s guaranteed to make you sleep with the lights on for a week, bookworm.”
Paris wrinkled her nose, looking about as thrilled as a vegan at a steakhouse. “I don’t know about this…I’m having second thoughts, Dax. I prefer my scares to be limited to the occasional paper cut or coffee stain on a first edition.”
“Come on, you promised you’d give it a shot. And I’m holding up my end of the bargain by reading a romance. I’m ready to defy my own preconceptions. I know romance isn’t my usual genre, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give it a go.”
She shook her head, throwing her hands up. “I suppose it’s too late to back out now.”
“I bet you’ll be a horror convert by the time you’re done. You’ll be trading in your bookmarks for a nightlight and a teddy bear.”
Paris rolled her eyes. “Don’t count on it. I’m made of sterner stuff than that. Although I’ll admit, I’m curious to see what dark and twisty tales you recommend.”
“Trust me, Paris. By the time we’re done with this experiment, you’ll be seeing thrillers and me in a whole new light.”
She turned her attention back to her phone, fiddling with the settings. Her lips twitched. “Like the fact that you know how to read something other than gym equipment manuals?”
Staggering back a step, I clutched my chest at her teasing. “Ouch. You wound me. I’ll have you know that I’m a man of many talents. Reading just happens to be one of them.”
She laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world. “All right, all right. I suppose I can give horror a chance.”
“And if you find yourself swooning over the brooding, misunderstood monster, I promise not to say I told you so.”
Paris scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Please. I have standards, you know. I don’t fall for every creature of the night with a tragic backstory.”
It was like we were engaged in a game of verbal chess, each move carefully calculated to keep the other on their toes.
Leaning in closer, I lowered my voice. “Ah, but what about a dashing, book-loving personal trainer with a heart of gold?”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Nice try, Casanova. I think I’ll stick to my fictional heroes for now. Less chance of disappointment that way.”
A frown pulled at my lips Okay…what did she mean by that? Was it just a playful jab, or did her comment hint at a deeper wound? I made a mental note to tread carefully, to earn her trust before attempting to scale the walls she’d obviously erected around herself.
“You know, I’m glad we’re doing this.” I rubbed my chin. “And I’m thinking we should take it one step further. Really immerse ourselves in the world of each storyline.”
Her brows puckered. “What do you mean?”
“After we read each book, we go on an outing related to the story to get the full experience. Like if the romance novel takes place at a fancy ball, we go dancing. Or if my story is set in a haunted mansion, we visit a spooky old house. It’s like bringing the books to life. We’ll be like the main characters, living out the story in real time.”
“Um, yeah, I guess that might be kinda fun.” Paris checked her phone screen and started texting someone.
Rocking on my heels, I watched her. Damn. I was utterly captivated by the woman standing before me. In a town where conformity was the norm, where people clung to the familiar like a well-worn security blanket, Paris was a vibrant anomaly. While others might have scoffed at her quirky style and bookish ways, I found them endearing. It was clear Paris wasn’t interested in fitting into anyone’s mold. She was unapologetically herself, and that was a rare and beautiful thing.
“I like that you’re not like anyone else in this town.”
She looked up and lowered her phone. “I suppose life would be rather dull if we were all predictable.”
My gaze held hers. “And you, Paris Novak, are anything but dull.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I grinned. “It’s a great freaking thing. You’re unique. Exceptional. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“You really mean that?” she asked, tilting her head. “Quirkiness and all?”
“Definitely. In fact, I like you just the way you are, Paris.”
Her eyebrows shot up, mouth open as if she wasn’t used to receiving straightforward compliments. Then a slow, genuine smile spread across her face, lighting up her features in a way that made my heart stutter.
“I appreciate that, Dax. It...means a lot.”
Standing there on the sun-dappled streets of Bluebell Bend with the woman of my dreams, I made a vow to myself. I would do whatever it took to win Paris’s heart—even if it meant a departure from my horror reads and diving headfirst into romance.
After all, if there was one thing I’d learned from my favorite stories, it was that sometimes the greatest risks yielded the greatest rewards. And Paris Novak? She was a reward worth fighting for.