Page 39 of Booked on You
I’d let him ruin my life. Damn. Can you ask him to take off his shirt?
Scarlett
I’m leaving in six days, Hallie.
Hallie
I’m extending your stay for another week. Minimum.
Scarlett
It’s probably best if I don’t.
I smile, even though I shouldn’t, because this isn’t a game. At least I don’t want it to be.
“Ugh,” I groan, gulping down the coffee. Ezra wasn’t kidding; he did make it strong as hell. Not complaining though, it’s welcomed.
I slide my laptop across the desk and open the lid. My document greets me, and it’s not a blank one. I will do what I came here to do: finish this damn book and make it the best thing I’ve ever written.
I reread the last paragraph.
Jordan enters her kitchen like he belongs there. He pours coffee into two mismatched mugs, then sets one in front of her and leans against the counter. Being together like this means more than either of them let on. This is what happens when loneliness finds company. Helena stares at the mug, then at him, then back again. Her hands don’t move. Her mouth doesn’t, either, but something in her chest unlocks the cage that’s been holding the butterflies hostage. He made her coffee because he knew that’s what she needed after the night they shared.
I pause and sit back,blinking. My pulse is faster than it should be.
The words came out cleaner than I expected. They weren’t trying to be anything other than what they are.
I type another line at the end.
Jordan watches Helena like he’s trying to remember the shape of her in the early morning light.
I exhale,hands hovering over the keyboard, afraid the magic might slip away if I don’t write it all down right now. I type asfast as I can, allowing the prose to flow, allowing my characters to discover one another in ways I want with Ezra. I’m living vicariously through Helena and Jordan, and that’s enough for me right now.
When I finally glance up, the sun has moved higher in the sky. The light shifts across the floorboards, climbing higher up the legs of the table and catching the rim of my mug.
My back aches from sitting for too long, but I don’t care. The words are flying out of me. Not everything’s polished. Some of it will need work and rewrites, but I’m done second-guessing myself. It’s been too long since a story grabbed on to me like this. I keep writing for another hour, then force myself to stand and stretch. When I reach upward, letting my spine arch, my back pops. I touch my toes, then walk toward the window to take in my southern oasis.
I hear the creak of a branch overhead and the faint sound of chickens clucking. I glance toward the main house, and everything is still. I wonder what he’s doing in there.
My stomach growls, and I move into the tiny kitchen. Ezra stocked it with snacks and food as I requested when I booked the cottage. In our conversation, I was very clear that I needed to be able to lock myself away for ten days without leaving. He’s accommodated me since before I arrived.
I glance over my options.
“Ramen it is,” I say to myself as I fill the container with water and pop it in the microwave.
As it heats, I reach for my phone and see a text Hallie sent two hours ago that I missed. I was so far in the zone, I didn’t even hear it vibrate.
Hallie
Does he have a brother?
I snort.
Scarlett
Sorry, only child.
Three dots appear.
