Chapter 6
Tyler
We agreed to meet at the café the following morning, which, insofar as I could tell, was the only place Katie went. When the
door swung open, I almost laughed. She was wearing white cowboy boots, an iridescent miniskirt, and red lipstick. It was ten
a.m. on a Tuesday.
“You look insane,” I said.
“Thanks,” she said, walking toward me. “I have a date.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” She dumped a stack of books on the table. “Now.”
I swallowed. “And, uh, what’s all this?”
“Your homework.”
“It’s all so . . . pink.”
“Quite the observationalist, aren’t we?”
I growled softly—I growled sometimes, let’s get that established right away—and then thumbed through a book at the top of
the pile. The cover was a cartoon. Pieces of dialogue were highlighted. There were hearts doodled in the margins. I set the
novel down.
“I can’t read this, Katie.”
“Oh, but you can, Tyler. And you will. Today.”
“While you gallivant?”
“Yes. While I gallivant.” She slid another book toward me. Also a cartoon. “Start with this one—it’s my favorite from last year. Meredith blends category and contemporary romance, so you’ll need to master both. I’ll see you when I see you.”
And with that, she was gone, disappearing into the morning like a glittery rodeo clown while Lola, one eyebrow raised, stood
behind the counter, eating a blueberry scone and reading Proust.