Page 41 of If I Stopped Haunting You

How much had she heard?

“Skinner,” he said, tone resigned.

She crossed to the desk and picked up the journal, ignoring him.

“You know,” she said, “my eyes kept going to this on the shelf.”

Neil stepped closer, drawn to it.

Drawn toher.

“There’s something about it, right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded as he stopped before her. Skinner leaned against the desk, the red journal in her hands, messy braid spilling over her shoulder. She didn’t look up at Neil until he was a few inches away, his hand reaching for it.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand as he took the journal. Suddenly, this close, he wanted to ask her about the night before. Neil wanted to know about the manuscript. He wanted to ask if she’d even read it, or if his apology was worthless at this point.

But every question, every word seemed to fail him as she stared up at him, expression carefully blank. His eyes were glued to her lips once more, to the freckle just to the left of them, so clearly the first thing he could think to blurt was, “Were you writing about cheese earlier?”

She stared at him, taken aback. “I’m sorry, what?”

What the hell, Neil?he thought. He wanted to hit himself in the head and tape his mouth closed before he said anything else absurd. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Neil cleared his throat, empty hand sliding into his front pocket. “I could see your screen reflected in your glasses.”Creepy,he warned himself,that’s kind of creepy, Neil.He shrugged, thoughts scrambling even as he continued, “I thought I saw cheese.”

Blushing, she snatched the journal from his hand and slipped it under her arm, storming across the study.

“Fucking cheese,” she cursed as she disappeared down the hall.

Neil went to the nearest bookcase and knocked his head into the shelf, eyes squeezed tight. He’d had the chance of a lifetime to say the things and do the things, but all the things had gone right out the window when the time came.

He had never been good atthings.

Not that he’d had a lot of time tothinkabout any of those things, seeing as how twelve hours ago he and Penelope Skinner had been rivals—no, not rivals,enemies,and oh, how twelve hours could change everything. The things he was beginning to feel for her were new and confusing, but Neil could not deny the fact that those very feelings were there, waiting for their chance to shine.

If only he could speak like a normal person.

“Yeah, because cheese isreally sexy,” he muttered, covering his face.

What an embarrassment.

Chapter 13

PEN

Cheese.Of all the things he could have asked her about, he’d asked aboutcheese.

Pen quickened her steps through the castle, ignoring thebud-umpof her heart against her ribs as she pictured the look on his face when he’d leaned close, or the way his thumb had brushed over her hand, lingering a moment too long and sending a wave of electricity down to her belly.

Knowing him, he’d probably meant nothing by it. Which only made her reaction even worse.

It was the castle ruins all over again. He was suave and confident, but not one second of that had mattered to him. Fuck, why had she ever opened up to him? Why had she ever been willing to listen to him, to understand why he’d done everything he’d done? Finally, after four months of avoiding him and their mixed-up past, she’d stepped forward to face it, only to flounder.

Damn it, why was she so shaken? She tightened her hold on the journal, her pulse in her fingertips. This was so unlike her. Penelope Skinner was the kind of woman who stood her ground, who threw things at people, who never backed down from a fight, but Neil Storm, with his absurd questions about cheese, had left her tongue-tied.

Cheese.All because she’d written a ridiculous passage about ridiculous cheese because of her incessant writer’s block.

Ridiculous,she thought as she ground her teeth and jogged up the stairs to the second floor before plopping down a few steps from the top. She smoothed her hands over the journal as she leaned her head against the banister and sighed.