Page 346 of Playing With Fire

I wait for him to tease me.

Instead, he closes the book and kisses my forehead.

“You know what I'd change?”

“Please don't tell me you're going to give me editorial notes on Valentine's Day.”

“Just one.” He smiles. “I'd make sure she knows the story doesn't end when he finally kisses her.”

I look at him. “Then when does it end?”

“Who says it has to?”

My heart does that ridiculous thing again—the thing it has been doing around Hayes Bishop for as long as I can remember.

The difference is that now, when he reaches for me, I don't have to wonder if he means it.

I know.

Because for years I wrote love stories about the kind of man I thought I'd never have.

Tonight, he read one of them.

Then he showed me what I'd gotten wrong.

The best part isn't when the hero finally gets the girl.

It's when they wake up tomorrow—and every tomorrow after that—and keep choosing each other.

And this time, I don't have to write the happy ending.

I get to live it.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DELANEY

The blender sounds like it's about to take flight.

Which is impressive, considering all Hayes Bishop is trying to do is make two banana-peanut butter smoothies.

“More peanut butter?” he asks, holding up the jar.

I glance at the blender.

“Is there even a banana in there?”

“Two.”

“And how much peanut butter?”

He looks at the spoon in his hand.

“Define how much.”

“Bishop.”

“What? It's protein.”