Page 60 of Booked on You
“You’re staring,” she says.
“Can’t help it,” I admit. “But also, get used to it.”
She tucks her lips into her mouth. It’s confirmation that I’m under her skin, and fuck, I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t under mine.
“I’ll be right back. I expect one thousand new words. Keep making your goals, and I’ll make sure you stay rewarded.”
Her brow pops up. “Tell me more.”
“Every thousand words you write, I’ll give youoneorgasm. An incentive to write more.”
“Oh, I think I might enjoy this game. Can I bank them?” She cracks her knuckles.
“At Orgasms-R-Us, you can spend your O-coins however you’d like,” I explain. “Save them like a greedy fucking girl.”
With a hand on her hip, she smirks. “How strong is your tongue?”
“Oh,” I say, and my tone is undeniably cocky. “You’d tire before me. Trust me.”
“Fantastic. Happy to be a customer at Orgasms-R-Us.” Scarlett strolls to the desk and opens her laptop. “That’s actually pretty funny. I should put that in a book.”
“Trademarked Ezra Reed,” I tell her as she quickly does some math.
“I have fifty thousand words left. And five days to get them. Fifty orgasms in the next five days. Can you keep up?”
Laughter takes over as I cross my arms over my chest. “Try me.”
As I move toward the door, I catch her reflection in the mirror. Scarlett’s leg is on the chair, and she rests her chin on her knee as she watches me.
I capture how fucking pretty she is in my memory.
“Breakfast will be ready soon.” I walk out and leave her to her words.
When I glance back at the cottage, I see her staring at me as she sips her coffee. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips anytime I think about her.
I’m fearlessly falling for her.
I walk into my kitchen, and my phone vibrates wildly on the counter where I left it. I expect Scarlett’s name, but it’s Aunt Millie’s picture that flashes across the screen. It’s a picture I took of her holding one of her famous peach pies.
Before it goes to voicemail, I swipe to answer.
“Good morning,” I say, putting the phone on speaker as I pull fresh eggs from a basket on the counter.
“Ezra Reed, don’t yougood morningme!” she scolds affectionately. “When exactly were you planning to tell your favorite aunt who’s staying at your cottage?”
I chuckle. “It’s confidential.”
“Well, Betsy called and told me Scarlett Collins was in town. Her grandson delivers pizzas. Funny, he said he delivered one to your house for her,” Millie states, keeping her tone warm. “I cannot believe Scarlett Collins is there.”
I pause, egg in hand, her excitement and recognition catching me off guard. I knew Scarlett was successful, but hearing my aunt get so excited drives it home.
“And?” I keep my voice steady. “Let me guess, you’re a fan?”
“Honey, who isn’t? Scarlett Collins is the queen of romance novels,” Millie gushes, her voice taking on that breathless, dreamy tone when she chats about something—or someone—she truly adores. “Her last book broke me into tiny little pieces. Took me a whole pint of praline pecan ice cream and a week of moping around before I felt right again. I told myself I’d never forgive Reese and her book club for recommending it.”
I smile, picturing my aunt curled up on her floral-patterned sofa, nose buried in one of Scarlett’s dirty novels. “I had no idea you read romance books, Aunt Millie.”
“Boy, you’d be surprised by what I do in my spare time. Your mama made me read one of Scarlett’s books a decade ago. Your mother and I were obsessed together,” she says.
