The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  You really shouldn’t, she told herself. She cocked an ear toward the living room but heard nothing. Maybe it was safe to take a quick peek. Just one, to satisfy her curiosity.

  …

  Toff stood on the porch, staring down Brayden. “That was about ten minutes, little dude, not twenty.”

  His conversation with Amy had swerved all over the place. Brayden’s timing had sucked, interrupting them right when Toff was trying to figure out how to apologize for accidentally insulting her.

  “I’m not an old man,” Brayden said. “I don’t wear a watch.”

  “You have a phone.”

  “I was playing Cranky Cows. I don’t pay attention to time, dude.”

  Toff snorted. “Come inside. Let’s see if I can sweet-talk your sister out of busting your butt for stowing away in the car.”

  “You said you wanted to borrow me for a day.” Brayden’s shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He glanced up. “When do you get to surf again?”

  “Today, I hope. Have to see what the doc says.”

  “Cool.” Brayden side-eyed him. “Were you and my sister making out? Is that why you wanted twenty minutes?”

  I wish, thought Toff. He smirked down at the little spy. “Like I’d tell you if we were.”

  Brayden shrugged. “Maybe if you made out, she’d forget to get mad at me for sneaking over here.”

  Toff grinned as he ushered Brayden into the house. Getting to kiss Amy again was already high on his agenda. He’d have to find out if she was okay with it first, but if she was, he might as well do it for a good cause.

  “I’ll give it my best shot, kid.”

  …

  Amy drank in the details of Toff’s bedroom like a parched nomad who’d discovered water in the desert. Okay, so maybe she exaggerated, but when you’d obsessed over someone for years, entering his secret lair was a dream come true. What hidden secrets did it hold?

  Toff’s bedroom walls were covered with posters of famous surfers and lots of blown-up photos of him and his friends surfing and hanging out on the beach. Plenty of pics of him posing with trophies. A photo of Toff, Dallas, and Viv laughing together at Slices Pizza mixed in with all the surf team pictures. Amy scanned the walls for girlfriend photos. There were tons of photos of him with girls but nothing that looked like an actual couple photo. Hmm…

  His bookcase was full of trophies, not books. Shocker. Tons of ribbons with medals dangled from a row of coat hooks screwed into the wall. A vintage surfboard was mounted over his bed, which was a mess of tangled sheets and… Wow, her mind went straight to Toff’s favorite chapters.

  His desk was cluttered with empty glasses and stacks of paper. The computer monitor was covered in dust. Perched next to it was the cute, bedraggled penguin stuffie Dallas had used for the Percocet photo. She smiled. She had her own stash of childhood stuffies, too.

  So much for finding any revealing secrets— Wait. What was that?

  Redo in the Rockies was facedown on the nightstand, because of course Toff didn’t understand the importance of using a bookmark so as not to crack the spine. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages. The first bedroom scene happened in chapter thirteen, and he said he’d read four chapters. She smirked. She knew he’d skipped ahead.

  Okay, time to get out of here before she got busted. She spun around, ready to bolt, but instead came face-to-face with…Brayden? Oh no.

  Toff stood behind him, looming over Brayden like a protector who knew she was about to flip out. Toff’s gaze swept over her, darted around the room, then landed back on her. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled, a dangerous smile full of heat.

  Whoa.

  “Hey, Ames,” Toff said casually, sounding like he found random girls snooping in his bedroom every day. “Find what you were looking for?”

  Her anxious gaze darted between Toff and Brayden. Why was Brayden here? And why did he look so smug? He should be in panic mode, knowing she’d make him pay for this impromptu visit.

  “I…um…was…um…” She had nothing. Zilch.

  “Spying,” Brayden announced, glancing up at Toff for approval. Toff grinned down at him, and Amy swore she saw Brayden sprout up three inches in height.

  Her best option was to flee the scene immediately. “We need to go, Brayden. Toff has a doctor’s appointment—”

  “Not so fast.” Toff stepped away from the doorframe, pushing Brayden into the room ahead of him.

  Brayden beelined to the trophy shelf. “Wow! These are awesome! How many do you have?” He reached out, and instinctively Amy told him not to touch.

  “It’s fine. He can’t hurt anything,” Toff said, keeping his eyes on Amy, not Brayden. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she’d worn a hoodie instead of knitted top with a bunch of holes in it. She felt like he was staring into her soul. And the way he kept looking at her mouth? Her entire body was on fire.

  “I…um…” Amy squeezed her eyes shut, then stared at her feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here. I was looking for the bathroom.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She glanced up, chewing on her bottom lip.

  Toff cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. His eyes went to her mouth again, and his smile notched up a level from dangerous to Mayday. Brayden lifted a winners’ ribbon off a display hook and draped it around his neck, fingering the medal.

  “Brayden! Put that back!” If Amy didn’t die of mortification from her own snooping, she would from her brother’s stupidity.

  “I’m going to win a bunch of trophies someday,” Brayden said, ignoring Amy. He stared at Toff the way their dog moony-eyed the treat jar. “Just like you.”

  Amy hoped she never looked at Toff the same way her brother did, but she probably did. Ugh.

  “If you work your butt off, you can do it,” Toff said. He glanced at Amy and gave her that smile she was starting to think of as the Brayden Smile, the one that told her he knew Brayden was embarrassing her but not to worry about it. That smile was almost as dangerous as the new, steamy Mayday smile.

  “Come on, Bray,” Amy said. “We need to go.”

  Brayden turned from the trophies to Toff. “Want us to stay?”

  “Sure, but I think your sister’s had enough of me.” He sent her a sly smirk that said exactly the opposite. Her body flushed with heat. He was the worst.

  Except he wasn’t.

  Toff grabbed a small tube from the top of his dresser and tossed it to Brayden. “Wear that on the beach, buddy. It’s the best waterproof sunblock there is, especially for gingers.”

  “Thanks!” Brayden held the tube like it was liquid gold.

  “Let’s go, Brayden,” Amy said, pushing her brother out of Toff’s bedroom, which she would never, ever step foot in again. Toff followed them to the front door, making Amy want to break into a sprint.

  “I’m heading to the beach as soon as I leave the doc’s,” Toff said. “If anyone wants to join me.”

  “I do! I do!” Brayden turned pleading eyes on Amy. “We’re going, right? You can just read on the beach or whatever while Toff and I surf.” He flicked a hand at her dismissively.

  Amy narrowed her eyes at Toff, who did his lean-on-the-door pose again, smirking down at her. He knew exactly what he was doing, using Brayden to get her to the beach.

  “I don’t know—” Amy began.

  “I’ll text you when I’m done at the doc’s,” Toff said. He spun Brayden around by the shoulders and pretended to kick him in the butt. “Get outta here, grom. I’ll see you later.” Laughing, Brayden took off running. Amy was poised to run, too, but Toff stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t be too hard on him,” Toff said, tilting his head toward Brayden, who disappeared around the side of the house. “He just wanted to check up on his idol.”

  Amy rolled her eyes,
trying to pretend his warm hand on her bare shoulder wasn’t interfering with her breathing.

  Toff released her shoulder and flexed his fingers. He glanced at his hand and quirked a cryptic smile.

  “Before you go, we have some unfinished business.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back up to her eyes. “And I’m not talking about the vlog.”

  Her pulse stutter-stepped. “We do?”

  He nodded, moving in close, the heat from his body radiating around her like a human sun. His expression was serious for once, instead of teasing.

  “Your text asked if I was coaching or flirting. Do you want to change back to our original coach rules? Where I ‘rein it in’ and we keep things all business? It’s up to you.”

  Amy swallowed, blushing furiously. What should she say? Bring all the kissing, please and thank you?

  If there was a time for swagger, this was it.

  “Um…I’m…fine with changing the rules. I mean, uh, the kissing is okay.” Whew. That was far from swagger-y, but she deserved a medal for saying that to his face. And naked chest.

  “The kiss was ‘okay’?” He faked a wounded look. “Ouch. I thought it was way better than okay, Bonnie.” His wounded expression quickly shifted to off-the-charts flirty. “But I’m glad you’re cool with changing the rules because I have a favor to ask.”

  “A favor?”

  He nodded. “So usually before a doc appointment, I’d shower, but I can’t with the stitches. I could really use a hand with a sponge bath.” He slanted her a mischievous grin. “Two hands would be even better.”

  Her brain shorted out, unleashing a flurry of panicked messages, but her body was immobile and on fire, not sure whether to fight or flight. Or go find a sponge.

  “Think of it like back scratching,” he added, “only more fun.”

  She sucked in a breath, digging deep for composure, but she floundered. He was swimming in the deep end of the flirting pool, and she still needed water wings.

  “Y-you’re…crazy,” she sputtered. “That’s not what I meant by changing the rules.”

  He took a step closer, laughing. “You know I’m teasing, right?”

  “When aren’t you teasing?”

  “Right now,” he said, and the humor vanished from his eyes. “I’m one hundred percent serious about kissing you. If you’re still okay with that.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Just erase all the dumb stuff I said.”

  She swallowed, feeling the fizzy, crackly energy building between them. “I’ll need a really big eraser,” she whispered, taking a step toward him. She could do this. She wanted to do this. “I am…one hundred percent okay with kissing you. Even though you’re an idiot.”

  “I’ll find you that eraser,” he whispered. “Later.” He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans, tugging her toward him.

  She tilted her head back like a sunflower, drinking in his heat and warmth. The light around them shimmered, making everything brighter—his sun-kissed golden skin, those iridescent blue eyes, the flash of white teeth as he smiled, right before he pulled her in close.

  He cupped her face, and this time when his lips touched hers, it wasn’t a soft kiss that built slowly. This was a fast and furious kiss, a starter gun igniting them the moment their mouths touched.

  Toff’s fingers tangled in her windblown curls, massaging her scalp while his lips worked a different kind of magic on her mouth.

  Fireworks exploded inside her chest, and behind her eyelids, and everywhere his hands touched her.

  She slid her hands up and down the warm skin of his back, enjoying how his muscles flexed underneath her touch.

  Total romance novel material.

  And so much better than last night.

  A car horn sounded from the driveway. Brayden. She was going to kill him. She’d ask Viv’s mom for a slow, torturous method.

  Toff released his grip on her, stepping back. They were both breathing hard.

  “You’d better go before he tries to drive himself.” Toff flashed a quick grin. “I’ll see you later, Bonnie.”

  Still in a kissing daze, Amy nodded, turning toward the car. Her thoughts were scrambled, her body still trembling from the kiss. What were they doing?

  The car horn sounded again, and she snapped out of her daze.

  It’s just kissing, she told herself as she headed down the driveway, no big deal.

  Even though it was.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Toff kicked back in the doctor’s exam room, naked from the waist up. It was time to get his stitches out. Time to be released from his prison sentence.

  He felt like that mermaid in the cartoon movie who grew legs and hated living on land. Bored with waiting on the exam table, he took a picture of himself making a goofy face and Snapchatted it to Amy.

  After she and Brayden had left, he’d resumed skimming the Redo book, hoping for more “non-gratuitous” scenes, especially after that hot kiss with his bookworm.

  Plus that dog was awesome, always getting in trouble, but no one got mad at him because he was so lovable. Dad had mentioned getting a dog to keep him company after Toff left for college, but maybe he wouldn’t now, since he was getting married. Toff frowned as anxiety streaked through him at the thought of the upcoming wedding.

  Right on cue, the door opened, and his dad walked in with a bottle of water. “Want some?”

  Toff shook his head and glanced at his phone. Amy still hadn’t opened his Snap. He took another one and sent it to Dallas, who immediately sent a reply: a picture of him and Viv lying on the beach, grinning. That was where he should be, not cooped up in this chemical-smelling room.

  Another knock on the door sounded. “Come in,” his dad said, “we’re decent.”

  Toff rolled his eyes at his dad, who shrugged and grinned. Viv’s mom said that he and his dad had the same smile. He wondered if his smile was as smug as his dad’s and if that was why Amy got so frustrated with him sometimes.

  The door opened. He hadn’t seen his pediatrician, Dr. Brooks, in ages, since he’d switched to a dude doc when he was fifteen, but Dr. Dave was on vacation. Dr. Brooks looked mostly the same, with her beaded black dreadlocks and purple eyeglasses.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Nichols men.” She beamed at them. “Who’s hurt this time?” She reached out to shake Dad’s hand and then his. A prickle of panic streaked up his spine as he recalled the tetanus shot he’d had to get in the ER, just in case. He wouldn’t need another shot today, right?

  He was not a fan of needles. When he was a kid, his mom had taken him for ice cream after every shot. He’d cried the whole way to the ice-cream shop, and Mom always let him get the biggest cone they had. Clearing his throat, he blinked away the memory and watched Dr. Brooks as she pulled on examining gloves.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t break any ribs. No concussion, either.” She set her iPad on the small desk and studied Toff, her expression serious. “Have you been cleaning your cut regularly and putting on fresh bandages?”

  Toff nodded.

  “Excellent. Lie back on the table, Christopher.”

  He smirked at the use of his full name. She’d always called him that. He obeyed, stretching out on the scratchy tissue paper covering the padded table.

  His dad moved in, standing at the foot of the table and watching him like a hawk. “Toff seems to think he’s ready to get back on his board once you take the stitches out.”

  Toff bit down hard on his lower lip as the doc prodded a particularly sore spot. He couldn’t show pain or they’d never let him surf again. The doc wasn’t fooled. She pressed the same spot again, and this time he swallowed a yelp. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and she glanced at his dad.

  “I looked at the X-rays from the ER.” She returned her attention to Toff. “Good thing you didn’t crack a rib, but the
bruising is deep, and you need more time to heal. That was a deep laceration.”

  “Doc. Come on. I’m fine,” he protested.

  Ignoring him, she slowly peeled off the bandage. “Let’s get these stitches out. If everything looks good, I can see you getting back in the water in two or three weeks.”

  “What?” His body vibrated, ready to explode off the table. “The Summer Spectacular is in two weeks! I can’t miss that.” He needed to get back on his board now to get ready.

  “Toff. Settle down.” Dad grimaced and exchanged a worried look with the doc. “I don’t suppose you have a cage I can lock him in until then?”

  “Ha-ha,” Toff said sarcastically. He squeezed his eyes shut as the doctor removed the stitches. This was a nightmare. He was trapped in a crappy version of the Groundhog Day movie, waking up to find out he still couldn’t get back in the water.

  The doc covered his cut with some goopy stuff and a clean bandage, then glared at him like a crabby teacher. “Stay off your board and out of the ocean for two more weeks. Give your body a chance to heal completely. I recommend you skip the Spectacular.”

  He forced himself to sit up and not show how much it hurt. “Doc, I can’t do it. I’ll die. My skin will shrivel up from lack of water.” He glanced at his dad. “I’ll get so depressed, I’ll start watching soap operas. Gain fifty pounds.” And he wasn’t going to miss the Spectacular.

  His dad shot Toff another warning look. “We’ll follow doctor’s orders.”

  “Excellent.” Dr. Brooks removed her gloves with a snap and tossed them into a hazmat receptacle. “How many painkillers are you taking, Christopher?”

  “Just ibuprofen, maybe three or four a day.” After the Percocet incident, which Dallas still mocked him for, he was sticking with the over-the-counter stuff.

  She regarded him closely. She’d known his family forever. When his mom died, he’d learned she wasn’t always grumpy. She’d held him for a long time when he’d broken down in her office after a booster shot because his mom wasn’t there anymore to take him for ice cream. She’d given his dad the name of a family therapist who’d helped. A lot.