Page 6 of Booked on You
Yep. I’m intrigued by the writer.
This is only day one, but I’m already tempted to go over there with a bottle of tequila and ask her to share every secret she has with me. I should stop watching and wondering about her.
She moves closer to the wall of windows, and I take a step back, knowing she didn’t see me. My heart races, and I can’t explain the excitement coursing through my veins.
I exhale, sneaking another peek, but when I glance down, she’s disappeared from my view. My brows furrow, and I step back to try to see farther into the cottage.
A moment later, I hear a knock on the back door. Wearing a cocky as fuck grin and a towel, I take the stairs two at a time, then swing it open.
“Couldn’t get enough of me?” I ask. Her skin glows under the yellow porch light.
She tilts her head, then swats away a mosquito. “How is it that every time I see you, you’re wearing fewer clothes?”
“It’s your impeccable timing, I suppose. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re lucky, I’ll answer naked.”
She cocks her hip and ignores me. “You left a very kind gift in the cottage, but there’s no wine opener.” She lifts the bottle to show me. “Cruel.”
“Apologies, ma’am.” I grab it from her hand, and when our fingers touch, she blushes and glances away.
I like that I have that effect on her.
When I look at her over my shoulder, she’s laser-focused on me.
“You know, it’s not polite to stare.” I twist the screw into the cork and lift it until it pops.
She scoffs. “I wasn’t.”
As I grab a wineglass and fill it, she gives me a playful grin.
“Liar, liar.” I click my tongue, handing it to her.
Scarlett is slow-burn trouble. The type of woman who rolls into town looking for quiet and sets the whole place on fire just by being in it.
She takes a sip, and her eyes widen with delight. “Wow. This is great. First time I’ve ever tried strawberry wine.”
“Be careful. It’ll knock you on your ass.”
She reaches for the bottle and grabs it. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“Well, city girl, if youneedanything—anything at all—please let me know. Hospitality is my middle name.”
She glances at me over her shoulder as she moves to push open the screen door with her elbow. “Anything?”
Our eyes lock, and I smile, seeing straight through her. I lower my voice a tad. “I didn’t stutter.”
We’re frozen in time for a brief moment before she clears her throat.
“I cannot let you distract me,” she says, shaking her head. “Tempting, though. Very tempting.”
I burst into laughter as she pushes through the screen door. It screams out in protest and then slams shut. The noise echoes through the backyard.
I try to move, but it’s like her presence turned me to stone. Or at least that’s what it feels like. I glance out the window over the sink and watch her disappear down the cobblestone path. I continue to stare in that direction, like maybe Scarlett will come back to flirt with me until the sun rises, but she doesn’t.
I blow out a breath and shut the oak door so my cat, Willow, doesn’t wander away. As I reach up to lock it, I stop myself, wanting Scarlett to have access to the house if she needs something in the middle of the night.
“Already considering her needs,” I whisper to myself. “And you barely know the woman.”
The feeling that’s currently coursing through my veins when I think about her always gets me in trouble with women. It’s the first time in over a decade I’ve felt an undeniable spark with someone. I enjoyed how her eyes stopped on my mouth and how she didn’t once look away fast enough when I glanced at her.
