Smitten in the Stacks (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 7

Dax

Stretching, I hoisted the novel, Love Ledgers above my head like a kettlebell—only this hardback wasn’t exactly my speed. More romance than thrills, it felt out of place in my calloused hands. I tossed it on the leather couch with a grunt, the book thudding softly.

“Come on, Dax, it’s just a guy and a girl, and they fall in love—what’s not to get?”

The contrast between the flowery romance novel and my surroundings couldn’t have been starker. My place was industrial-chic with leather furnishings, hardwood floors, and exposed brick walls, rough and unvarnished that matched my vibe. My gaze wandered to my collection of horror novels crammed onto the bookshelf—and I chuckled. They were probably judging me, their spines stiff with disapproval.

“Bet you didn’t see this coming, huh?” I said to the thriller, suspense section. “Dax Granger, reading a romance novel.”

Since when did I become a man who reads these things?

Since Paris Novak.

Had to admit that joining the book club was ingenious. Like how I tackled a new client—assess the situation, gauge interest, and then go in for the kill. My plan had worked. Maybe a little too well because now I was slogging through this lovesick drivel, all because of wanting to know Paris better. I wasn’t intimidated, just feeling out of my element.

An image of her flashed in my mind—that shiny, purple hair that resembled every sunset I’d ever seen. And those eyes, so blue they could slice right through you. She was a walking contradiction, witty and sharp, all wrapped up in a package so sexy it should come with a warning label.

Was I seriously crushing on a stubborn girl who only read romance?

Damn. Yeah, I was. Paris had this understated beauty and a quick wit, and the more I got to know her, the more I liked her.

Why else would I dive into a story that reveled in everything I’d always rolled my eyes at? Or maybe it was the way Paris talked about these novels, with such genuine passion, that made me want to be a part of whatever world she was living in.

Hmmm. Perhaps I’d learn a thing or two about winning her over. Or end up with paper cuts and a bruised ego.

With a deep breath, I dove back into the pages, determined to see this dare through to the end.

Hours later, I sucked in a breath, my back aching after being hunched over the book. The harsh noon light had mellowed and I hadn’t budged, except for the occasional shift to alleviate the numbness in my glutes. I had to admit, Love Ledgers wasn’t the sappy, unreadable drivel I’d expected, even if the subject matter wasn’t my usual bowl of Wheaties.

Man, if the guys at the gym could see me now. The thought alone was enough to make me snort. They’d never let me live it down.

A solid knock at the door prompted me to set the book on the sofa.

When I swung it open, I grinned. My best buddy, William Graham, stood in the doorway with his broad, muscular frame. At thirty-eight, the guy still looked like he could take on a grizzly bear and come out on top. His square jaw and military-style buzz cut gave him that hardcore no-nonsense vibe. And those damn basketball shorts—I swear, the man would wear them in a blizzard if he could.

Since we had started working together at the gym, we’d been friends for over a decade. I had even been the best man at his wedding to Rachel, who happened to be one of Paris’s closest friends. Yet, despite our long history, sometimes he just didn’t get me.

Williamstrode inside the loft, his cross-trainers silent on the hardwood floor. I shut the door and followed him into the living room. He claimed an armchair while I retook my seat on the couch, accidentally knocking the book to the floor.

“What is that, another fitness book?” William asked.

“It’s a novel. A romance, if you can believe it.” I tried to play it cool, but there was an edge to my voice like I was daring him to give me a hard time about it.

He snorted. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the Hallmark channel crowd.”

“Neither did I, but here we are.” I grabbed the book and set it on my thigh, tapping the cover with a finger. “There’s actually some depth to this stuff. It’s not all sentimental nonsense.” A half-smile touched my lips. “And I haven’t burst into flames yet.”

“Depth, right.” William snickered.

I tossed the book onto the coffee table and stretched my arms above my head. “Why are you here other than to bust my chops about expanding my reading choices?”

“Can’t a friend drop by without an ulterior motive?” William asked, though his eyes were too sharp, too shrewd.

I sighed. “Lemme guess, you talked to your wife and she told you that I joined their book club.”

William nodded. “She sure did and I had to come over and see if it was true. And I catch you reading a damn romance.”

“It’s not what you think. There’s this reading challenge that I’m doing with Paris.”

“My wife’s friend?” William frowned. “The purple-haired pixie who eats donuts and has that weird cat?”

My jaw clenched. Paris was off-limits for cheap shots, even from a friend.

“Hey, don’t knock the hair. It suits her. Or the cat.” My tone was hard, biting.

He shook his head. “All right, all right. But why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than reading touchy-feely books?”

“The truth is, she’s got something about her. Beyond the obvious gorgeousness.” I cleared my throat. “Paris…she’s got this fire in her eyes, a sharp mind that keeps you on your toes. And she’s damn sexy, no denying that. There’s something that makes me want to figure her out. So, I joined the book club as a way to get to know her better.”

William snickered, the sound like gravel tumbling down a hill. “And since when did you, a health nut get involved with someone like her? She doesn’t even workout!”

“Since now, apparently.” I scowled at him. “I like her. Had a crush on her since forever.”

“Attraction is one thing, Dax, but romance novels? Book clubs?” William shook his head, bemusement carved into the lines of his face. “This is too weird, buddy.”

Shrugging, I chuckled. “Heck, I’m not even sure I believe it myself. Me, the guy whose idea of a long-term commitment is a two-day hike. But, you know, it’s not so bad.”

William shook his head. “You should stick to fitness models. Leave the bookworms alone.”

Irritation flared in my chest. How could he dismiss her so easily? He didn’t know how her nose wrinkled when she laughed, or the way one rogue curl tumbled across her forehead when she was deep in thought.

“Paris...she’s amazing.” I frowned. “And she’s your wife’s best friend. I thought you liked her. Now you sound like she’s a succubus out to steal my soul.”

William grunted. “Hey, didn’t mean to upset you. Paris is an okay girl. Just not for you, buddy.”

“Define not for me.” I crossed my arms.

“You’re all about impromptu mountain climbs, treadmills, and scary movies, and she’s...” William gestured vaguely as if her essence was something floating in the air like pollen. “Well, she’s Paris, a woman who owns a bookshop specializing in romance novels, and most people in town think she’s weird.”

“She’s just being herself. I like that about her.”

William’s brow furrowed. “I’m only looking out for you. You dive headfirst into everything. What happens when the novelty wears off? When she realizes you hate those romances she loves?”

“Maybe I don’t anymore,” I said strongly but my skin warmed.

“Ha!” William burst out laughing, slapping his knee. “You’ve gone insane.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, the heat in my cheeks turning into a full-blown inferno. “It’s about understanding what makes her tick, okay?”

“Look, you’ve been so preoccupied lately that I’m worried, dude. What’s gonna happen to our weekend hikes and debating whether Bigfoot exists? Are you gonna be spending all your time with Paris now instead? Pals before gals!”

“Relax. Bigfoot does exist, and we can still hike. And maybe I want something else to talk about besides cryptids and muscle gains.”

Willaim’s concerns only fed my insecurities that I was just a horror-reading dude with a crush on a woman who probably perceived me as nothing more than the resident musclehead.

“I’m still the same guy. Just going after what I want and I want Paris.” I slumped on the sofa and grunted, then snatched the book off the table. “But who am I kidding? She’s out of my league.”

For a moment, the only clamor was the distant hum of traffic and the soft creak of leather as I shifted on the couch.

My hands gripped the book tighter, and I could feel the imprint of the title pressing into my skin. I had dated plenty of beautiful women, but most were hollow and shallow on the inside. And there was no real connection outside the gym or looks. I wanted someone who had more to offer than sex and tossing compliments my way while they painted their lips and bragged about Botox injections.

My best friend frowned. “I just don’t get it. The last woman you dated was a smoking hot Swedish fitness model…now, you and that nerdy book girl…” His tone was more resigned than judgmental.

“Yeah.”

He stood up, rolling his shoulders, a crack echoing through the loft. “Before I go, you still thinking about buying The Muscle Hut gym?”

“Thinking, yeah. Hoping more like it. Not sure I can get a loan on my own.”

“Talk to your dad and see if he’ll help. Just make a solid business plan first.” William made his way to the door, then paused at the threshold. “Good luck with the reading challenge...and Paris.”

I got up too, my limbs stiff. “Thanks.”

He went out the door and it swung shut, leaving behind a silence that seemed louder than any of our conversations.

My thoughts drifted, as they often did these days, on Paris—her laughter, her beauty, her passion for stories I’d only begun to understand. The genre swap was about laying down the first bricks on a path that could lead in the right direction—a shot at something genuine with Paris.

Yet, the fear of rejection, of discovering my feelings were nothing more than one-sided, felt worse than when I sprained my ankle playing baseball. Sure, there was a chance I might strike out, but even the best athletes miss a swing sometimes. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t step up to the plate.