Chapter 16
Erin’s breath catches as she takes in the rows of books. Her face lights up, and her whole demeanor shifts, showing me just how on point of an idea this is.
Her eyes are the size of saucers.
“We’re the only ones here?”
“Yep,” I say. “We’ve got the place to ourselves for the next hour. Being a hockey player has some cool advantages, you know.”
She grins and darts for the nearest shelf, her finger skimming over the spines of countless romance novels.
“Not so fast, Bookworm. There are rules.”
“Rules?” She pouts, and fuck if she isn’t the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I ball my hands into fists to keep from touching her.
“You get five minutes to browse and three minutes to grab as many books as you can. Rules say no baskets or help. Whatever you’re still holding when the time’s up, you get to keep. You drop it, you lose it.”
Her mouth falls open. Unshed tears shine in her eyes, but before I can move, she’s in my arms, wrapping herself in me.
I chuckle, holding her close.
“I take it you like this game?”
She pulls back. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. “Thank you, Eighty-Seven. I’ll remember this forever.”
“Me too, Bookworm,” I whisper, letting my chin drop to her head. “Me too.”
I let go of her and pull my phone out of my pocket. “Okay, are you clear on the rules before I start your five-minute countdown?” I ask her.
She snaps the hair tie off her wrist and collects her hair in her hands, securing it into a messy bun on top of her head.
That hairstyle should be fucking illegal.
“I see we mean business,” I say, grinning.
“I’m ready.”
“Okay, Bookworm. Your browsing time starts…now,” I say, hitting the button on my phone to start the clock.
I click the side button immediately after.
It opens up my camera, and I snap a picture of her wild expression before she squeals in delight and darts off, a rocket disappearing behind the stacks.
I catch myself staring at her for a moment too long—her excitement, the way she moves, the brightness in her eyes. I’m seeing a whole new side of her.
I like this side. A lot.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and the banner for the group chat appears.
WE’RE THE TORNADOES, BITCHES!
Austin: Heading to the Donut Truck downtown if anyone wants in?
Rudy: Hells to the yeah! Pick me up in ten? I call shotgun.
Austin: Fine, but no disrespecting Sally.
Oliver: Sally?
Austin: My car is called Sally, so you better keep your feet off my dash.
Austin: My nephew is suddenly obsessed with the Cars franchise. Henry’s declared my car is now Sally because they’re both blue.
Oliver: Aww.
Rudy: Heartwarming.
Hayes: Cute.
Me: Adorable.
Austin: Yep, the little rugrat has me wrapped around his finger. So, does anyone else need me to pick them up?
Oliver: Count me in.
Hayes: Can’t tonight.
Me: Hanging with Erin.
Oliver: Ah, yes, the book thing Valerie helped you plan.
Hayes: I bet she’s loving every minute of it.
Austin: Look at you go, Pretty Boy. Winning her over one book trope at a time.
Oliver: I call dibs if you mess it up. I bet I can do better than a bookstore.
Me: She’s not interested in you, Olliepoop.
Rudy: Bummed I didn’t get to meet Erin at the event. You need to fix this ASAP, Pretty Boy. You know I have FOMO.
Austin: We know.
Oliver: We know.
Hayes: We know.
Me: We know.
Erin emerges from the stacks after I send my reply, looking confident and beautiful, a small, wistful curve tugging at her lips.
She stands a few feet in front of me and stretches out her arms and legs, like she’s about to run a marathon.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“Yup.”
I look back down at my phone and restart the timer for three minutes.
“Time…starts…now!”
She shoots off again, and this time I follow, making sure she sticks to the rules.
She grabs three books from the romance stack, three from a sports romance table, one from another table with summer reads, and two that scream cowboy romance based on the art cover.
When she rushes over to the dark romance section, she drops her first book. “Damn,” she whispers, spinning around to see it on the floor behind her.
She frowns for just a second, remembering she’s being timed, and swipes two books from a table. I notice one of the covers has handcuffs on it, and my interest piques as I start to wonder what Erin might like in the bedroom.
Control is definitely my thing. I enjoy having all of it. Always have. But physical restraints? That’s the kind of intimacy I’ve only ever thought about doing with someone I trust entirely. Not a random girl during a one-night stand.
I glance up at Erin. She’s still hovering around the dark romance tables. Watching her makes me wonder what she’d trust me with.
My mind betrays me.
Suddenly, I’m picturing her tied up in my bed.
Thanks a lot, Bookworm. Your taste in books now has me picturing you in sexy lingerie. Do you prefer matching sets or going mismatched? Hell, it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t stay on long anyway.
Thud.
“Phooey!” Her voice snaps me out of my fantasy, and I silently recite the Yankees roster to keep my pants from tenting.
I follow her to the kid’s section next, and she grabs three more books.
“I told Roman about these the night I met him,” she says, adding them to her pile. She’s moving slower now that the stack is a little taller. “Is that okay?”
“Yep. I think Brax would appreciate Roman reading instead of getting attacked when he comes out of the shower.”
She laughs.
Thwack!
Another book is gone.
“Mother-of-pearl,” she shouts.
She circles back around to where she started.
“Why choose?” I ask her, pointing at the sign. “What’s that?”
“It’s when there’s more than one love interest for the female main character or male main character, and they get their happily ever after without having to pick,” she says, adding one to the pile.
“Kinky,” I tease.
“You have no idea,” she says, spinning to the small-town section.
“I’m all for getting inspiration from books to spice things up, but just so you know, I don’t share, baby.”
“What was that?” she calls over her shoulder.
“I said you have sixty seconds left.”
“Freaking hell,” she hisses as another book falls off her pile. “Not the cowboy,” she whines.
She’s fucking adorable, and I could listen to her all damn day.
“I’m tapping out,” she says, halting her steps. “I’ll stay like this until the timer runs out. You didn’t say I couldn’t do that in the rules.”
“Not bad, Bookworm,” I say, assessing her stack of books.
“How do we pay if there’s nobody here?” she asks, trying hard not to move.
“I paid already.”
“You did? How’d you know how many I’d get?”
“I just made a fifty thousand dollar donation.”
“WHAT?” Erin balks and the books tumble from her arms to the ground. “Fish sticks!” she yells, throwing her hands up in the air.
I bend over in laughter, swiping at my tears as Erin pouts at the loss of her winnings. She folds her arms and lets out a huff.
“Look what you made me do.”
“I think you’re the one that dropped them, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, because you just told me you donated fifty thousand dollars to a bookstore so we could play a game.”
“It was a pretty fun game, though, right?” I wink.
“Chase,” she sighs, shaking her head.
I take a step forward and tug her away from the pile of books littering the floor.
“If it helps ease your mind, I donate to Happily Ever Booked every year. Teamed up with them a while ago. I donate, and they provide books to every school in Michigan,” I say proudly.
“They do?” she asks, her face lighting up.
“They do. Now let’s get your books home.”
“But I dropped them.”
“I’ll bend the rules for today. Next time I show no mercy.”
She giggles and goes all serious. “Yes, sensei.”
I’m craving more of her light, so I let her have all the books that fell from her pile during the challenge as well, and damn, it’s worth it. Seeing that dimple pop when she notices the books in my hand makes me feel like a champion.
I borrow a basket and carry the books to the truck. Once safely packed, we set off back to hers.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks. “I was thinking we could order a pizza,” she says, pulling out her phone to search for a place.
“I’d love to. And you know what they say about pizza, right?” I ask, flicking my eyes over to her for just a second before they’re back on the road.
“It’s best shared with friends, unless said friend’s choice of pizza topping is pineapple or anchovies. Then you ditch the friend and the pizza.”
I grin. “Always knew I liked you, Callahan. You’re, of course, correct, but I was gonna say there’s nothing better than the homemade kind.”
“Oh, that sounds good,” she says, sighing. “I’ll put my books away and help.”
“I think I’d prefer it if you read one of your new books to me. I like hearing you talk about them. It’s sexy.”
She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head.
“Your love for books—where does it come from?”
“My dad,” she answers.
“Leon?” I ask, flicking on my blinker to turn onto her street.
She shakes her head, and I know she’s talking about her biological dad.
“Will you tell me about him?”
She’s quiet for a moment as if she’s thinking about what to tell me.
“He worked in publishing,” she says, staring into her hands.
“Every few months, he’d come home with a brand-new book that hadn’t hit the shelves yet.
He’d wrap it up with little gifts—highlighters, stickers, bookmarks.
I’d write a book report on it for him with my new nicknacks and we’d sit together by the fire and just talk.
It was our thing. Our secret book club. Our bonding time.
” Her voice is small. I pull up in the vacant spot outside her door and kill the engine.
“How’d he die?”
“I don’t want to talk about it or have it bring up things about your own dad.”
“I don’t scare easy, Erin. You can tell me anything.”
“Some other time, then.”
“Promise?” I ask her.
“Probably not.”
Her candidness catches me off guard, but it only stokes the fire of my need to know more.