Page 62 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

She steps back and nods, her fingers resting on her lips. “Okay, well, I think you’ve mastered the perfect first date.”

I clear my throat. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

She smirks, all that shyness seeming to fade into the cool autumn air.

“Well, Montgomery, how’s your dirty talk?”

Chapter 21

Penny

apennyforyourbooks: book boyfriend has been reading all your suggestions for dirty talk and this girl is ready to test him. Tell me, what’s your favorite dirty word? For the record, I think the sexiest word a man can murmur is “Mine.”

I click out of the Instagram app. I’ve spent the better part of the morning replying to DMs and comments. I can barely keep up with them now. And the orders that have been rolling in have been nothing short of amazing—this influx of cash might actually make it possible for me to hire some help.

It’s the last Saturday of September and the second official event of the Maple Festival—apple picking followed by the bake-off—tonight. Everyone will pick their apples, then go to the bakery to choose their ingredients before we all head home to prepare our treats. The girls and I are working together. I’m confident that, with Tally as our partner, we’re a shoo-in to win.

Our local apple orchards are owned by the Oakley family. With three sons—two of which work in the fire department and one who is our chief of police—they are very involved in Hope Harbor. Fortunately for the town, that meant they allowed the festival to host this event at their orchard and are donating all the proceeds to the committee. I still can’t believe we’re doing all this for a hot tub for the senior center. But a part of me is not surprised—this is Hope Harbor, after all. And if it’s a little kooky, we’re all in.

Puttering around the shop now, my heart races at the thought of seeing Monty later. It’s been one week since our date, since the kisses.

In the past seven days, we’ve exchanged a slew of text messages, most of which are centered around his next lesson. When he dropped me at home on Saturday night, I ran inside and sent him off with a stack of books that included some of my favorite dirty talk. While I enjoy reading spicy books, I’ve never had a man speak to me the way the men in my books do.

The more time Monty and I spend fake dating, the more I realize the lessons are helping me just as much as him. I’m trying to figure out what I like in real life, while he works out how to write about it. I gave him examples of all of it: degradation, praise, sweet talk, as well as some darker options.

A well-placed good girl gets me just as hot as a dirty little slut. Though no one has ever murmured those words to me, which means I’m not sure if I’d actually like it outside of my books.

But if my reaction to Monty’s first text was any indication, I’d say I’m not disgusted by it. Not in the slightest.

Monty: I can’t stop thinking about the way your skin flushed such a pretty pink tonight, Xuxuzinho.

I’d grown hot just staring at the words on the screen, and it took me so long to respond that he followed it up with another text.

Monty: Just warming you up. This is what you want right? Me to test out the dirty talk on you?

I ignored the weird pinch in my chest at those words. Of course Monty wasn’t really flirting with me. He was practicing—just like I told him he should, just like with our kiss.

I’d responded quickly then, wanting to reassure him that it was perfectly acceptable, and the text I received the next morning was proof that he trusted I was fine with it.

Monty: Morning Xuxuzinho. Had a dream about you last night. Woke up wishing I actually had the taste of you on my tongue.

The toy in my nightstand was used twice that day. Clearly, my goal not to make myself come while thinking about Monty has gone out the freaking window.

I thought I’d encountered every version of sexy talk through my books, but this morning, Monty proved me wrong.

Monty: Can’t wait to feed you today.

That was it. That was the text. And I am currently squirming trying to figure out how I’ll make it through an entire afternoon, in front of our neighbors, knowing that text exists on my phone.

Who knew being fed was my kink?

When I spot my sister rushing across Maple Lane with her signature yellow-and-pink to-go box in hand, I open the shop’s door for her. “Oh, what do you have there?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Tally giggles. “Apple cinnamon donuts fresh out of the oven. I made a bunch for the event later but figured I would trade you a pumpkin spice latte for a warm one.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” I say as I reach for the box. She tugs it back and I laugh. “Fine. Follow me. Coffee awaits.”

“I’ll just hold on to these deliciously warm donuts.” Tally winks and her long caramel waves bounce as she heads toward the window seat that we both love so much. “In other words, don’t take too long.”