Page 28 of Booked on You
Crickets surround us as the warm salt breeze brushes against my skin.
“Yeah,” she admits. “I do. You’ve awoken a beast inside me.”
This makes me laugh. “Me? I did nothing of the sort.”
“Existing is enough,” she says, then sips her wine. “It intrigues me knowing that men like the ones I write about actually exist. I feel like I’m going crazy and all of this is a weird dream I’m going to wake up from,” she says. “You know those sequences?”
“And when you wake up, what would you do?”
“I’d write you,” she says, her smile widening. “So I guess whether it’s a dream or not, I’ll finish my book on time.”
My eyes soften. “How’s the writing going?”
She leans back, tipping her head toward the stars. “Great. I think I’ve found my groove again.”
“Yeah?” I see joy radiating from her. The woman sitting before me is already different from the grump who showed up on my porch steps three days ago with no patience and a city girl attitude. This version of Scarlett is more relaxed, less guarded, and…dare I say, happy.
She lowers her gaze to meet mine. “I’ve been feeling inspired lately.”
My wineglass lingers just below my mouth. “Icouldread into that statement.”
I glance toward the fire, and so does she.
“You could,” she replies. “And you’d probably be right.”
The fire crackles, smoke rising into the sky in lazy spirals. I hear something rustling in the garden, probably Harry or a stray cat. As the minutes pass, more stars make their appearance.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, wineglass hanging from one hand. The firelight catches in her hair, turning the ends to bronze. Scarlett is gorgeous without even trying. Her existence is more than enough.
“Are you always this distracting?” she asks.
My mouth curves. “Depends. Are you distracted?”
She doesn’t answer right away.
“I haven’t thought about my deadline since dinner,” she admits. “When we’re together, it’s almost like it doesn’t matter.”
“Good,” I say. “It means you’re living in the moment.”
“Haven’t done that in years.”
The warmth filling my chest has nothing to do with the wine. “Things are changing for the better.”
“They are.” Her gaze sweeps across my face.
The idea of touching her, just reaching out and brushing her hand, or her knee, or tucking that loose strand of hair behind her ear, nearly overtakes me. But I don’t move. Her gaze flicks down to my mouth again, then back up.
She sets her wineglass down like she’s making a decision.
“You think too much,” she says.
I raise a brow. “That so?”
She nods once. “You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes.”
“I plead the Fifth.”
Scarlett leans toward me, close enough that I have to tip my head to keep looking at her face. She doesn’t say anything else. She just leans in and kisses me.
