Page 68 of Booked on You
“Thanks for everything, Hal. Thanks for standing by me through all this.”
“Always, babe. Ride or die.”
I end the call and open my laptop, fingers steadier now. Over the next two hours, I read through the first chapter, then the second, and finally the third, tweaking sentences and adding my finesse. Excitement overtakes me because I know my first few chapters are solid. They’re exactly what they need to be, or at least, I hope. I email Hallie and close my laptop, staring out the window.
My thoughts go back to Ezra on the couch, absorbed in my book.
Unable to resist, I leave the cottage and cross the yard. My heartbeat quickens with every step up the back porch. When I reach the door, I don’t knock. I twist the knob and enter.
The house is quiet, and sunlight streams lazily through the windows. I move through the kitchen and pause at the open archway to the living room, leaning against the frame.
Ezra is exactly where I left him hours ago, with his bare feet casually propped up. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are slightly parted. He’s lost in my words, and the sight makes my heart squeeze tight. I feel so vulnerable seeing him like this, holding my story, discovering pieces of me. He turns another page, exhaling softly, unaware that he’s captured my attention without even trying.
“That must be a great read,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
Ezra glances up, and surprise quickly transforms into a smoldering gaze as he sets the book aside.
“Scarlett,” he says, sitting upright.
“Hi.” I cross the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I sit next to him on the couch, our legs touching. “You looked very invested.”
“I am,” Ezra admits with a laugh, reaching out to thread his fingers through mine. His hand steadies me.
“I’m hooked on your words.”
“Yeah?” I ask. My eyes drop to our joined hands. “Even after meeting the author behind them?”
Ezra’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. “Especially after meeting her.”
The way Ezra looks at me, like he sees something I don’t, has my heart rate increasing. “Seeing you read my book is kinda weird.”
“How so?” His voice is calm.
My cheeks flush gently as I search for the right words. “Because I know what’s between those pages, and what you think about me matters.”
Ezra turns his body toward me and pushes strands of hair behind my ear. “Then let me be clear. Your words are incredible, Scarlett. Brave, just like you. The book is beautifully raw, full of emotion and hope. It needed to be told.”
My heart thuds in my chest, and heat rises to my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. If it sucked, I’d tell you.” A tender smile plays on his lips.
“We love an honest man,” I say.
Ezra squeezes my hand, pulling me back to the present. “So, did you hit your two thousand words? Is that why you’re here?”
Anxiety flickers again. “Not exactly.”
His expression shifts, and I’m almost surprised he can read me so well.“Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. My editor, Natalie, called earlier. She asked for the first three chapters.”
Ezra studies me closely. “Tell me why you’re concerned.”
I hold his gaze and sigh. “Last year, I tried to fulfill my contract and submitted my first draft. They rejected what I sent and asked me to start over. They said it didn’t feel like my writing. Granted, I was depressed, and what I wrote wasn’t my best work. I’m scared it’ll happen again, but I’m out of time. The final has to be turned in by the end of next week. Seven days. If I don’t, I’m ruined.”
He reaches out, gently combing his fingers through my hair. “Can I help you? I’ll read them and give you my expert male opinion.” He snickers.
I chuckle. “You’d read them?”
