6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
S ophie steered Stone down the bustling streets of Alphabet City, part of Manhattan’s East Village, navigating through the eclectic mix of cafés, murals, and busy sidewalks. Stone had been broody ever since she’d laughed at him. Even after she’d apologized. She’d not taken him to be the sort to have his feelings hurt so easily.
“It’s not that you don’t look handsome,” she said, trying one more time to ease the situation, “it’s just I know the real you beneath the fake-hair, pastel-sweater fa?ade, and it’s like that saying about you can’t stuff a sausage back into its casing. You know the one I’m talking about?”
He grunted.
“I’ve already seen you in your whole macho persona and, well… The Glam Team tried to stuff all that hotness into the casing of a sweet guy, and it just didn’t work.”
“You think I’m hot?”
“You’re not not hot,” she countered. “I mean for those who like the strong, silent sort,” she said, steering them around a corner.
“I thought you said the place you were taking me was close. Did you change your mind? Are we headed someplace no one knows you, so you won’t be embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Oh, get over yourself.” They were headed to her not-so-secret boyfriend hunting ground, a cozy little café tucked away on East 9 th Street, near Tompkins Square Park. It was notorious among the single ladies of the Book Boyfriend Connoisseurs Club for both its literal cinnamon rolls and the sweet-natured men who frequented it. “I’m sure you’ve had worse undercover gigs.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” Stone said. “But none have popped to mind.”
The air was crisp, swirling around them as they walked, the sounds of the city creating a rhythmic backdrop. Sophie had chosen her outfit with care, donning a pair of well-fitted jeans and her favorite gray T-shirt that usually garnered smiles and knowing nods from fellow book lovers, a playful wink to her literary escapades.
As they approached the café, Sophie paused, her gaze sweeping over the scene through the glass. “This place,” she began, her voice tinged with excitement, “is like a live catalog of cinnamon roll guys.”
Stone’s expression remained unreadable. His steely brown eyes scanned the cozy interior as if assessing a strategic position rather than a potential romantic hotspot. He followed her through the door, the bell above it jingling softly as they entered the inviting space filled with tinkling laughter, the clatter of cups, and the robust aroma of coffee and baked goods.
As they weaved their way through the crowd to a small table near the window, Sophie wondered if the laid-back atmosphere would crack Stone’s tough exterior. One that hadn’t been the least bit hidden with a pink cardigan. The makeover had tried to turn a thriller novel into a sweet romance, and it had failed. Stone’s gruff demeanor remained unchanged. She’d have to make the best of it and try to soften Stone bit by bit.
As Sophie settled in, pulling off her scarf, a man at the next table glanced over, his eyes bouncing from her face to the text emblazoned across her chest. He chuckled, a warm, hearty sound. “Hope I don’t have to worry about my book boyfriend being claimed,” he joked, his grin friendly and open.
Sophie laughed, which made Stone scowl. Her fake boyfriend sure was fond of collecting future frown lines on his forehead. Ignoring Stone, she turned to the nice guy. “Only if you leave him unattended,” she quipped, her lips twitching with amusement.
Her attention briefly flickered back to Stone, and she was not the least bit surprised to find his scowl had morphed into something fierce and unyielding. Intimidating others sure seemed to be his favorite pastime. To remind him to chill, she reached across the table and touched his hand just as a cloud covered up the sun, casting the entire café in shadows.
“Well, I’ll make sure to keep a close eye on him, then,” the stranger said, pulling her gaze toward him. “What’s your favorite book boyfriend type?” he asked, leaning slightly forward, genuinely interested in her response.
Sophie waved an open hand, palm up, toward Stone. “You’re looking at it. The guy with a heart of gold. How about you?”
The stranger gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m into the sexy bad boys. The kind who barks orders in and out of the bedroom.” He tittered and then plopped a hand over his mouth and winked.
“Aren’t you just a naughty little book reader?” she said. “You’d get along swimmingly with my best friend. Donna is totally into the same type of man.”
“You’ll have to bring her here someday so we can meet. I’m here most Tuesday nights.”
“I’ll do that.” Sophie removed her hand from Stone; the sun came back out, and the café brightened instantly. “Are you a member of the Book Boyfriend Connoisseurs Club? If so, you should definitely join us at the end of this month for our discussion of Ana Huang’s Twisted Love . If ever there was a sexy bad boy, it would be Alex Vokov. Have you read it?” If any book was going to tempt Sophie to try one more bad boy before throwing in the towel on the lot of them, it would be Twisted Love .
“Read it? Honey, I devoured it in one sitting. That guy had me all hot and bothered before he ever spoke a word. The car ride in the rain… O-M-G!”
Sophie nodded as she handed him a card. “Here’s the information for the club. I hope to see you there.” With that, she turned her attention back to Stone.
He said nothing, a pulse throbbing in his temple.
Guess someone’s not a fan of making new friends. “Too many smiles for your taste?”
“Something like that,” he admitted, the hand she’d earlier touched now fisted on the table.
“Lesson number one on being a cinnamon roll boyfriend,” she whispered. “No scowls, snarls, or sulking.”
“I never sulk.”
“Lesson two, you need to read Funny Story by Emily Henry. It will help you understand the role you’re playing.”
“You want me to read a romance?”
“You do read…right?”
“Of course, I read. I listen to audio thrillers on stakeouts.”
“Have you ever read a romance?”
“Absolutely not!”
She sighed. You’d think she’d asked him if he’d ever committed a cold-blooded murder. “Then you are in for a real treat. Every guy should read romances. They are a road map to what women want from a lover, both in and out of the bedroom.”
He raised a brow. “And your idea of spice in the bedroom is a cinnamon hero?”
“Newsflash,” she said, flattening her hands on the tabletop. “Just because a woman wants a cinnamon roll hero outside of the bedroom doesn’t mean that’s what she’s looking for once the lights are turned off.”
“She’s not?” he said, leaning in, his eyes narrowing with interest, drawing her attention to a tiny scar next to his left one.
“Not in the least.” She resisted the urge to jump to the topic of the scar. It was no doubt the result of a daring rescue of a damsel in distress. One who could have saved herself, but he had to barge in all alpha-hero-like.
“Then what is she looking for?” he asked.
“I could tell you but trust me when I say you’ll have much more fun reading and discovering the hard way.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Pun intended.”
He blinked. Scowled. Chuckled. “Can we get out of here? All the happy vibes are giving me a headache.”
“We haven’t even ordered yet,” she said, her eyes momentarily settling on a couple nestled in a quiet corner, their heads together over a shared book. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a silent yearning for something genuine that might exist beyond the pages.
“We could grab a coffee somewhere else,” he countered.
She folded her hands and laid them on the table. “Fine. There’s a delightfully quirky bookstore not far from here that serves the best Storybook Espresso. Are you game for that?”
“Anything but this.” He stood and came around behind her chair and pulled it out.
Walking out, Sophie glanced back at the café before turning and tucking her hands into the crook of his elbow.
Thunder rumbled.
He glanced down at her hands, then looked into her eyes, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. She shrugged. “This is us practicing pretending to be a couple.”
“We need practice?” he asked.
More thunder.
He glanced up at the sky and scowled as if the thunder were a personal affront.
“Practice makes perfect.” She smiled up at him, feeling quite content with how things were progressing.
He gave a noncommittal grunt but didn’t pull away. “Has anyone ever told you, you smile a lot?”
“Has anyone ever told you, you grunt and scowl a lot?” she countered.
“Which way to the bookstore?” was his response.
She tugged him to the left. “Let’s go break your romance cherry and get you a rom-com.”