He couldn’t wait to get back in the water. Maybe Amy would come hang out with him at the beach. He knew Brayden would. Heck, that kid would probably be lying in wait.
Why hadn’t Amy replied yet? Was she asleep? Usually girls replied to him ASAP. Was she regretting their kiss? He hoped not, because he sure wasn’t.
He stuffed another cookie in his mouth. And another. Still no reply. He decided to Google Pride and Prejudice memes. He debated which one to send, then chose the one with the Darcy dude looking all moody that said, “Hey, girl. I love how you’ve improved your mind by extensive reading.”
Made me think of you. He’d never Hey-Girl-memed a girl before.
A few minutes later, his phone finally buzzed with a reply.
Amy: Are you coaching or flirting?
Toff stared at his phone. This was it. Time to find out how she wanted this to go.
Toff: Both?
When she still hadn’t responded ten minutes later, he sent one final text before signing off for the night.
Toff: Both. Definitely both.
He set his phone aside and rolled over in bed, sleep overtaking him quickly.
…
Amy: Are you on Perc again? Empty stomach?
Amy: Toff?
Amy: I’m guessing you passed out. We’ll pretend this convo never happened.
…
The insistent ping of text messages woke Amy from a deep sleep, in which she’d been dreaming of kissing Toff in a field of flowers…wait, were those flowers or cupcakes? She blinked herself out of her dream haze, then jolted awake, heart pounding.
She really had kissed Toff last night, not in a dream but in her driveway.
Omigod.
Her phone pinged again. Who was texting her this early? She fumbled for her phone on her nightstand. Toff. She scanned the flurry of messages she’d slept through.
Toff: I was not on Perc. Convo was real.
Toff: This book is BS. What kind of guy doesn’t stick around to fight for his own business?
Toff: And why doesn’t this chick tell her nosy neighbor to back off?
Toff: Okay, I admit the kid is sort of cute. But he’s also a butthead. Like your brother. Followed by three goofy face emojis.
Toff: Hey! The dog in this book is a black Lab. Why is a yellow Lab on the cover?
Toff: Whoa. You didn’t tell me there was sex in this book. Damn, Ames. Is this what you and Viv talk about in your book club? No wonder Dallas kept sneaking in.
Toff: Amy? You there?
Toff: BONNIE?
Toff: Your coach needs fuel. Chocolate banana is my smoothie of choice. Wanna do a special delivery to my house?
Amy stared at her phone screen, her heart in her throat. After last night’s kiss—which was the best kiss of her entire life until her stupid brother ruined it—and Toff’s texts, in which he’d straight-up said he was flirting, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep for at least an hour. And now this?
She fired off a text to Viv: Mayday! Toff’s reading book! Sex scenes! Help!
Viv texted back within seconds.
Viv: Are you sure he’s not cheating? Texting you stuff from online reviews?
Maybe, but she didn’t think so. He sounded emotionally invested in the story, which thrilled her. That was the best part of hooking people on books, and why she loved matching readers to recs on the blog. She hoped he’d finish it and absorb the message about his dad and Viv’s mom deserving their HEA.
I don’t think he’s cheating, she texted Viv. He sounds into it.
She hesitated. He asked me to bring him a smoothie.
Viv: He can get his own smoothie.
Amy hesitated. She hadn’t told Viv about the kiss and didn’t plan to. It was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. A kiss she’d been dreaming about for years, but still.
How awkward was this going to be? Ugh. What if she’d just destroyed their whole friend group because she didn’t keep her hands—and mouth—to herself?
Toff: Smooothiieeeee. Please. Two of them. I’ll pay you back. I’ll pay you double. I’m starving. I ate all your dad’s cookies. I need sustenance.
So much for him forgetting. Or avoiding him for the rest of her life, because awkward. Two seconds later, her phone buzzed again, this time with a Toff selfie—a tousle-haired, big-blue-eyed, please-bring-me-a-smoothie selfie. Shirtless, of course.
Did anyone say no to him? Ever?
She certainly hadn’t.
Ugh.
Amy tried to even out her jittery breathing as she reread his texts. And stared at his selfie. He had used “sustenance” correctly in a sentence—he deserved a smoothie just for that, right? And the P&P meme he’d sent her was perfect. She’d already saved it to her phone. She could handle seeing him, right? It wasn’t like she could avoid her coach.
Get it together, girl. Where’s your swagger?
She could always leave his drink on the porch. There was no shame in ding-dong-ditching the guy whose kiss blew your mind, right?
Right.
Amy: See you soon.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Toff stood at the kitchen counter, downing Advil, watching Amy creep across the driveway toward his dad’s board shop. This was way better than the video game he’d been playing. What was she up to? Yarn bombing Dad’s board workshop? And where the heck was his smoothie?
His dad had left for his morning jog and probably to swing by the bookstore to suck face with Viv’s mom. “I’ll be back by ten,” he’d told Toff. “Don’t do anything stupid between now and then.”
Did watching the other half of his Bonnie and Clyde OTP sneak around count as stupid? Only if he didn’t ask her to come inside, which he would, after he figured out what she was doing.
She wasn’t subtle, more like a clueless burglar, not even trying to hide. A very pretty, clueless burglar. Her red hair blew in the breeze, sparkly hair thingies glinting in the sun. He wasn’t sure how he’d overlooked her the past couple of years.
When she tried the locked workshop door, her shoulders drooped. She glanced at the house, and he jumped back from the window. She must be trying to avoid him and drop off his smoothie with his dad, but why?
“Nice try, Ames,” he said softly. “But you’re not ditching me that easily.”
Toff glanced out the window again, but she was gone. What the heck? A flash of red hair caught his eye, and he leaned over the sink to see out the window better. It was the McIntyre red, all right, except it wasn’t Amy. It was Brayden. Toff laughed out loud. He hustled through the house, wincing in pain but determined to get his smoothie.
And to see Amy. Mostly to see Amy.
He yanked the front door open, coming face-to-face with the delivery girl herself. Well, technically, face-to-back. She’d just set down two smoothie cups on the porch and was halfway down the steps.
“Well, hello there, little lady,” Toff drawled. She froze, then turned to face him.
Toff lounged against the doorframe. That little shirt of hers had a lot of holes in it. Her pale skin peeked through the random pattern. He wondered if she’d knitted it.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, carefully avoiding looking below his neck. He grinned. She really hated it when he didn’t wear a shirt. Now that he knew she didn’t think he was gross, it gave him the upper hand.
“What do you think it looks like?” He stepped onto the porch, smiling down at her. “Because I think it looks like you were just about to ring the doorbell. To come inside and spend quality time with your bored, injured coach.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “It definitely doesn’t look like you chickened out and were about to lay rubber peeling out of here.”
Amy’s cheeks went pink.
Huh. She’d been sneaking around and now she was blushing? Had the kiss freaked her
out? That would suck, because he was hoping for more.
He glanced toward the driveway. A redhead popped up behind her car, then ducked back down. Toff ran a hand over his mouth, hiding a smirk. He’d bet money Amy didn’t know her brother was there, but Toff wasn’t ready to out him. He needed one-on-one time with Amy, without interruption this time.
“Come inside, Ames.”
“I—I can’t stay.”
He raised an eyebrow. Okay. Something was definitely up. Maybe he should change the subject to books, something she always liked talking about. “But I have questions about the book I’m reading. The one you picked out for me. You’re not going to turn down a chance to book talk me, are you?” Toff gestured to the open front door. “Ladies first.”
As soon as she stepped inside, Toff turned around and sent Brayden a signal, flashing him ten fingers twice, then a palm-out “stay” signal. He hoped the kid knew that meant to give him at least twenty minutes until he crashed the party.
…
“You want one of these?” Toff asked, extending a smoothie cup.
Amy shook her head, and he disappeared into the kitchen. She heard the fridge open and shut; then he returned with one smoothie. Her heart raced as he approached her chair, but all he did was hand her a twenty dollar bill.
“That’s too much money,” she said, but he ignored her, crossing the room to flop onto the couch.
His shoulders relaxed, and he propped his bare legs on the coffee table. “Now that you’ve knocked the public speaking fear out of the park, how do you feel about doing a vlog?”
So he wasn’t going to bring up the kiss. That wasn’t exactly a surprise, but what did she think he’d say—how ardently he admired her, like Darcy said to Lizzie Bennet? Ha. Toff was hardly a romantic.
“Well?” Toff prompted. “You feeling ready to be on camera?”
Amy toyed with the fringe decorating the hem of the top she’d knitted. “Not yet.”
His eyebrows rose. “Why not?”
How many of her fears should she reveal?
“Just tell me,” he said. “I won’t judge you.”
“I guess it’s…” Amy began, then stopped. She’d given this a lot of thought since she’d entered the contest. Whether it was risking getting in trouble like yarn bombing or doing karaoke, it all came back to confidence. To taking the plunge when she’d rather hold back.
Like taking the plunge and kissing him last night.
Honestly, what did she have to lose? Besides the contest, of course, and her pride. But Toff had been right about everything else, so why not this? Maybe she should put everything out there and see what stuck.
“It’s like I said before,” she started, looking him in the eye, determined to be honest and not hold back. “I want to be fearless. Like you.” She leaned forward in her chair, shoving down her anxiety. “I’m tired of being the girl in the shadows no one notices.”
Toff tilted his head, assessing her silently. She felt like he was sizing her up like a lab specimen rather than a potential hookup, which was just as well. She’d probably regret this later, but for now, it felt…freeing.
“You want to be Lizzie Bennet,” he said, like he’d just solved a riddle. “You don’t want to be that uptight, quiet girl who married that loser church dude just so she’d have somewhere to live. But you don’t want to be the blond sister, either, even though she’s the popular, pretty girl everyone loves.”
Worst P&P review ever. He had so much to learn. Amy arched a displeased eyebrow. She’d practiced that look in the mirror and used it on Brayden.
“Not that Lizzie isn’t pretty,” Toff backpedaled. “I mean, she’s totally hot in the movie and… But…not that it matters what she looks like…” He stopped and took an extra-long drink of his smoothie. “I’m effing this up,” he said sheepishly. “I can tell by your face. I’m just not sure how.”
She tried to hide her smile. It was fun watching him struggle for once. “Give it your best guess.”
“Um.” He rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. “Is it because I said Jane was the pretty one?” He squinted one eye, like that would help him locate the answer to his screwup. “Wait—you do want to be like Lizzie, right? I mean, she’s cool. She didn’t take any crap from Darcy. And she’s funny. Smart. Like you.”
Comparing her to Lizzie Bennet was the best compliment he could give her. It almost made up for his idiocy about Charlotte and not understanding why she’d settled for marrying the simpering Mr. Collins. If Toff had read the book, maybe he’d understand. Even in the twenty-first century, some guys didn’t get how limited women’s options used to be.
“Thank you,” she said, “for saying I’m like Lizzie.”
He smiled, but it was cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d drop it, but gently.
“Charlotte didn’t have any options other than to marry Mr. Collins,” she explained. “She couldn’t get a job and support herself. Women were property of their fathers and their husbands, which is why Lizzie and Darcy falling in love was such a big deal.” She took a breath. “Love matches were rare back then.”
Toff drained his smoothie and grinned. “So if Lizzie B. could time-warp to today, she’d be shocked?”
“Yes, shocked and thrilled. She’d probably be president, I mean, prime minister, since she’s British.” This wasn’t how she’d thought their convo would go, but hey, she was doing some literacy training on the side, so props to her.
Toff stood up. “I need my other smoothie. You want anything?”
“I’d like one of my dad’s cookies,” she said sweetly, taking a poke at him, “but you ate them all.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry.” He ducked his head, reminding her of ten-year-old Toff who’d devoured her party cupcakes.
“That’s okay. I know where to get more.”
Amy followed Toff into the kitchen, curious to check out the rest of his house. When she’d been here for parties, the house had been packed, with people spilling out onto the deck, and she couldn’t do much snooping.
Unlike her kitchen, Toff’s was sparse. Clean—too clean—like no one cooked. The fridge was covered with photos, including some of Toff when he was little, with his mom. Toff grabbed his cup from the fridge and levered himself onto the counter, dangling his long legs. She tried not to ogle. Other than the faded bruising around the bandage, he was…perfection.
“When do you get your stitches out?”
“Today.” He sucked down at least half of his smoothie in one long gulp. Those legs of his must be hollow. “Wanna hang out at the beach with me later?”
Amy blinked at him, surprised. “Um…I don’t know. I’m picking up some hours in the bookstore so Viv can spend more time with Dallas.”
“Oh.” Toff shrugged, glancing away. “No big deal. It’s cool if you don’t want to.”
Had she hurt his feelings by not saying yes? Crap. Time to change the subject.
“You book-cheated,” she blurted. “You read chapters out of order.”
He raised his cup to take another long drink, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed, waiting for his rebuttal. When he turned his full attention on a person, it was almost too much. Usually his energy was diffused––joking and teasing with everyone in his vicinity, but lately she’d been the focus of maximum-wattage Toff.
“I didn’t cheat.” He lowered his cup to the counter. “I read four freaking chapters. Every word.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t look mad. Instead, he looked like he was enjoying himself.
“But you skipped ahead,” Amy argued, wondering who exactly was in control of her mouth. “You had to, if you read one of the, um…those, uh, other scenes.”
Toff braced himself on the counter, leaning forward. “Those ‘other scenes’ are the best part of the book. I’m still in shock that’s what you like
to read.”
He licked his extremely kissable lips, which she now had firsthand experience with, and she squeezed her thighs together.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He studied her, his gaze roving over her face, dipping below her neck, and back up again.
Silence lay heavy between them. Silence and something else. Maybe it was her imagination again, wishfully conjuring a slow-building heat between them as she stared at his mouth like an idiot.
Then realization hit, and it set her off.
“Wait a minute.” Frustration quickly replaced her squishy, crushy feelings. “Just because I read books that happen to have”—she swallowed but pushed forward—“sex in them doesn’t mean that’s the only reason I read them. And not all romances have sex scenes.”
She and Viv had written a blog post about this. They’d tackled the sexist attitude from men, and some women, that romance books were “lady porn” and poorly written and formulaic. Righteous fire ignited inside her, and she unleashed her favorite tirade.
“These books are about relationships, Toff. About people overcoming obstacles and figuring out how to be their best selves. They have to earn the love.” She narrowed her eyes. “And those other scenes aren’t gratuitous. If you actually read the book in order, you’d realize those scenes deepen the relationship.”
Toff blinked at her, his eyes wide, and she willed herself to calm down. Viv always said Amy was the mellowest person she knew, except when it came to defending books.
A knock sounded on the door, breaking the tension.
“I’ll get it.” Toff slid off the counter. “You really need to do a vlog, Ames. Just unleash that bookworm fire, and people won’t be able to stop watching.” His gaze went to her hair, and he reached out, fingers tangling briefly in the strands, his touch making her stomach dip. He held out a sparkly ladybug clip. “Almost lost this little bugger.” He quirked a smile, then went to answer the door, which someone was pounding on insistently.
She slumped against the counter, her knees a little weak. He was a very hands-on coach. Not that she was complaining.
Pulling herself together, she headed for the living room, then hesitated. If she turned right instead of left, she could peek into his bedroom, which was all kinds of tempting.
The Bookworm Crush Page 19
