Page 152 of Booked on You
“It’s because of us.”
“They’ll buy it because of us, but they’ll love it because you wrote a damn good book.”
I kiss him softly. His hands slide into my hair as he pulls me closer. When we finally pull apart, I want to be done for the day.
“Want to do something fun for lunch?” he asks. “Get out of the house for a bit?”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t want to jump out of anything, okay? Especially not planes. No hot-air balloon rides, either. It’s the heights.”
He bursts into laughter. “It’s nothing like that.”
I shrug. “Just want to make it clear.”
He kisses me once more, then turns to head back toward the house. “Meet me around eleven?”
“It’s a date,” I say, tugging his lips to my mouth one more time. A groan releases from him. “You’re mine after lunch.”
“I can be yours for lunch,” I whisper.
“After, because I’m taking my time with you today,” he says, grabbing my ass.
“Mm. Keep inspiring me,” I tell him, and he shakes his head, pulling away.
“Happy writing, babe.”
“Thanks.”
His laughter carries across the garden as he walks away, and I turn back to my laptop. I try to focus on my characters, but my mind keeps drifting to preorder numbers, Ezra’s smile, and how different my life is now. After a few clunky sentences, I fall back into my scene and continue forward. Two hours pass, and I complete another chapter. With a grin on my face, I close my laptop and stretch because I’m done working for the day. At this rate, I’ll finish this book in two weeks. Afterward, I’ll start the next one.
Once I’m dressed, we head toward downtown Charleston. October has finally brought cooler weather, and the breeze coming through the open windows smells like fresh rain. I watch the neighborhoods blur past the window. One of the things Ilove most about Charleston is the historic homes, with their wide porches and oak trees covered in hanging Spanish moss. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Ezra’s hand rests on my thigh, and I place mine over his. I glance over at him, and my eyes trace the strong line of his jaw with that scruff I love. We exchange a smile, and flutters tumble through me.
He parks near downtown, and when we start walking, I realize where we’re going. Millie’s bakery. When I notice, I immediately smile.
“Best lunch spot in Charleston,” he says with a grin. “She’s been dying to see you. Texted this morning.”
Ezra opens the door and lets me step inside first. The bakery smells like butter and sugar and fresh bread. It’s packed with the lunch crowd, but Millie spots us immediately from behind the counter.
“There’s my favorite nephew and niece!” she calls out, wiping her hands on her apron. She comes around the counter and pulls me into a hug. “I was starting to think you two were avoiding me.”
“Never,” I tell her, scanning the case behind her. “Oh my goodness. You have blueberry muffins today?”
“Yes, I do, but the sweets will ruin your lunch. How about some chicken salad sandwiches?” she asks, glancing between us.
“Sure,” Ezra says, finding a small table by the window.
Millie gets to work helping other customers while also making our sandwiches. The bakery is decorated with mismatched vintage furniture, and there’s local artwork hanging on the walls. There’s a chalkboard listing daily specials and a glass case full of pastries that almost look too beautiful to eat.
“This place is always so busy,” I say, watching Millie work behind the counter with practiced efficiency. There are threeother women working with her, and every person is taken care of quickly, and the line moves fast.
“Millie’s been running it for thirty years.”
Five minutes later, Millie is setting down two plates of chicken salad sandwiches on fluffy croissants. She also places a basket of her homemade chips between them. Ezra tries to hand her some money, but she refuses to take it.
