The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide, #2)

by Emma Hart

  I fought a smile.

  Holley.

  CHAPTER SEVEN – SEBASTIAN

  rule seven: don’t insult her. she’ll drag you into next week.

  She meandered up to the counter in her own little world. Her hair was pulled into pigtails that somehow suited her despite the fact she was no longer eight years old, and she wasn’t wearing her usual black-rimmed glasses. Her legs were accentuated by the tight workout pants she was wearing, but her upper body was swamped by a huge, light pink hoodie that had a bulging pocket at the front.

  “Hi, Johanna,” she said, burying her hand in the pocket. “Can I get a latte to go and a bear claw? Oh, and Leona asked me to pick up the order today since they’re short-staffed.”

  Aw, man. A bear claw. Nobody did bear claws like Johanna and Felicity.

  “Hey, Johanna, I’ll have one of those bear claws, too!”

  Holley’s head jerked in my direction, and her lips tightened when her gaze landed on me. “Someone hates me today.”

  I grinned as Johanna motioned that she had me covered. “Morning, sunshine. You look a little active for a bookworm.”

  She pulled an earbud from her ear and waved it. “There’s more than one way to read a book, baller.”

  Baller.

  She’d taken to calling me that when we were teens when she wanted to piss me off. The first time had been an accident, but when she’d realized I hated it, it’d stuck.

  I still fucking hated it.

  Mostly because, despite my height, I’d never been able to play basketball, and that wasn’t about to change now.

  “Why don’t you sit down, darlin’?” Johanna said. “Those bear claws are still in the oven, and I need to get that order together. It’ll be a few minutes.”

  Holley glanced at me. “No problem.” She pushed off the counter and sat at the table three away from me.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, smirking. “Don’t be so rude.”

  She answered by offering me a clear look at her middle finger and not saying a word.

  “Don’t make me come over there.”

  “Come over all you like,” she replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you.”

  All right, then. That wasn’t an invitation I was going to pass up.

  I got up and joined her, making sure the chair screeched just a little as I pulled it out. I saw down and leaned forward on the table. It wobbled with the pressure of my elbows, and she held her phone tight until it stilled, then resumed her tapping against the screen.

  A light hum came from the earbud she had nestled in her right ear, and her thumbs moved across the phone at a lightning speed I was jealous of.

  Maybe if mine moved that fast, I’d be able to avoid my mother’s calls.

  “So,” I said after a minute.

  She said nothing.

  “Did you get my text?”

  Still nothing.

  “The address for the wedding. I reserved you a parking spot.”

  She glanced up, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked at me with annoyance. “I replied, so obviously I got it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Nothing.

  “You do know you’re going to have to talk to me at the wedding, don’t you?”

  Sighing, she tapped the screen, then hit a button on the side of her phone and put it down. “Yes, Sebastian. I’m aware. I thought it was obvious I was holding all my words until then.”

  “Oh, was that what you were doing? I thought you were just listening to your book.”

  “I was. The hero was about to bang her against a door. This conversation better be worth pausing my audiobook for.” She stared at me across the table. “Well?”

  I blinked. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

  “An apology would be a good start.”

  “I’m sorry I interrupted your porn?”

  Without a word, she got up and moved another three tables away.

  All right, that wasn’t the right answer.

  I followed her over there. “I’m sorry I interrupted your book?”

  She stared at me blandly. “Do you know how sick and tired I am of having to defend my choice in books? Do you know how many times a week I have to explain to people that romance novels are not ‘mommy porn’ or ‘smut’ or whatever other derogatory term is the flavor of the day?”

  She didn’t want an answer to that.

  I didn’t know much, but I did know that I was supposed to shut up right now.

  “I literally could not give a damn if you judge me for listening to sex in my books,” Holley continued, her cheeks flaring with what was, I thought, a cross between annoyance and mild embarrassment that she’d said that out loud. “Romance novels are, for the most part, a healthy representation of relationships where there is respect and consent and love, and if more young women were taught not to be ashamed of what they read, maybe the world would be a better place.”

  I still didn’t respond.

  I still didn’t think she wanted me to.

  “Fucking vampires are perfectly fine to read on a train,” she muttered, trailing off. “But healthy love stories? God forbid those realistic stories be socially acceptable.”

  My lips twitched. “Really? People are fine with you reading vampires, but romance is taboo?”

  “Welcome to my world,” she said dryly. “Now you’ve successfully commanded my attention, what do you want?”

  I held up my hands. “I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were going this weekend.”

  “Sebastian, I know where the White Peak Mountain Resort is.”

  “It’s snowing nearby and will probably be at the resort this weekend. Can your car get up there?”

  “It’s a Jeep. I hope so, or I’m writing a strongly-worded letter to the CEO of whoever makes them.” She tucked some hair behind her ears. “Stop staring at me.”

  “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

  “There’s this nifty invention called contact lenses.”

  “I know that, but I’ve never seen you wear them.”

  She shifted, glancing away. “I don’t wear them often, but I took a walk up to Peak Place. My glasses get steamed up sometimes, so I prefer wearing contacts if I’m hiking.”

  “Is Peak Place considered hiking?”

  “Why don’t we go up there and we’ll see how long it takes people to hike to your body?”

  “You’re murderous lately.”

  “It’s the company I keep. It’s questionable.”

  I grinned. “Saylor sure is.”

  Holley dragged her brown eyes back to me and pursed her lips. “Stop trying to make me laugh. It’s not going to work.”

  “I would bet money that I’ll have you laughing by the end of the weekend.”

  “I don’t have the kind of money you bet with, baller.”

  “Twenty bucks.”

  “Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “Hey, twenty bucks is breakfast. I’m not exactly a gambler.”

  She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, right beneath her breasts, making them lift up so they were clear to see even under her oversized hoodie. “I’ve bet more with Saylor over stupid crap. I’m not betting twenty bucks with you.”

  “All right, fine. Don’t. But I’m still going to be right. You’ll be laughing by the end of Saturday night.”

  “I see no situation where I’ll be laughing with you.”

  “So bet on it.”

  “I’m not sixteen, Sebastian.”

  “You just said you bet with Saylor. Why not with me?”

  “Because I only bet with my friends.”

  Ouch.

  “Tell me how you really feel,” I said dryly. “Fine. If I can’t make you laugh by the end of Saturday, I owe you breakfast. And you don’t even have to eat it with me. I’ll buy it for you, Saylor, and Kinsley.”

  “Seems fair. And if you don’t make me laugh?”
<
br />   I shrugged. “You get to live with the knowledge you were right, and you never have to speak to me again.”

  Holley stared at me for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering with every movement. “What?”

  “I’ll tell you what really happened at prom at ten to midnight,” I replied, holding her gaze. “And if you haven’t laughed by then, I’ll leave you to it.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “All right.”

  I held my hand out for her to shake. Unless I was completely deluded, I could swear that she hesitated before she put her hand in mine.

  Her soft hand.

  I gripped her a little tighter than necessary and leaned closer to her, keeping my gaze locked on hers. “But if you laugh by lunchtime, you owe me dinner.”

  Her jaw dropped as I released her and walked up the counter. Johanna hadn’t served up my cheesecake yet, and I told her I was good with the coffee and the bear claw if it was ready.

  She handed them over with an observant eye that flicked between me and Holley.

  “Here.” I handed her enough money to cover both mine and Holley’s order, then pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t tell her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll never guess,” Johanna drawled, handing me my freshly baked bread.

  I’d forgotten about that.

  With a grin, I took the bag she’d put that and my bear claw in, grabbed my coffee, and left, not stopping to look at Holley for a second.

  But I sure as fuck felt her watching me.

  This was going to be a long weekend.

  CHAPTER EIGHT – HOLLEY

  rule eight: never leave a man alone. he’ll just mess the story up.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” I stared at the flat tire on my Jeep. This wasn’t happening, was it? I was halfway up a damn mountain on a Friday afternoon, and my tire was flatter than a pancake.

  Did I have a spare? No.

  Could I change it even if I had a spare? Also no.

  What? I didn’t have a jack.

  It was absolutely freezing up here, and my only saving grace was that it wasn’t dark yet. I was also closer to the resort than I was White Peak, so I only had one option.

  I was going to have to call Sebastian.

  Ugh.

  He was going to barrel on down here like a knight in shining armor, wasn’t he?

  This was going to be hard to stomach.

  I got back into the front of my car and checked my phone. Thankfully I wasn’t so far up the mountain that I was out of signal, although that one little bar that was taunting me didn’t fill me with much hope for a successful call.

  Still, I tried.

  It rang three times before the call disconnected.

  Shit.

  I tried again.

  And again.

  And—

  “Hello?” Sebastian said into my ear.

  “Oh, my God, thank God!” I breathed. “I have a flat tire halfway up the mountain.”

  “And here I was thinking you were happy to hear my voice,” he drawled.

  “I’m not joking, and I don’t have a lot of sig—” The call cut out mid-sentence, and I dropped a curse.

  Fuck it.

  My phone showed no signal bars at all, and I slumped back in the seat. At least I’d managed to get through, and now all I could do was hope that he would come and help me.

  I turned the engine on so the heat would work. It was so much colder up here than it was in town, and if I didn’t do it now, there was every chance I’d be an ice block by the time Sebastian found me.

  Who got married on a mountain in November?

  When I get married, it’s going to be someplace warm. Like anywhere but Montana.

  I shivered, pulling my hat down so it covered my ears. It was one of Saylor’s ideas for the bookstore merchandise we’d recently started stocking—a black bobble hat with ‘book nerd’ embroidered on the front. It’d been one of our best sellers, surprisingly, and I was annoyed that I liked it so much.

  It was so warm.

  I rubbed my hands together, hoping the friction from my gloves would warm my fingers. It really was annoyingly cold up here, the kind of cold I wasn’t expecting in town for another couple of weeks.

  I was not prepared for this.

  And by this, I meant the entire weekend. Not the wedding, not Sebastian, not our talk, not the weather—none of it.

  My radio had no signal either so I was sitting in silence. Only the running of the engine and low hum of the heater as it spat warm air kept me company as I eyed the weather system that I was pretty sure was moving this way.

  If I got fucking snowed in here, I was going to murder Sebastian. I was going to take one of those baseballs he loved so much, ram it down his throat, then beat him with a baseball bat.

  That was absolutely a reasonable response to this.

  I also hoped he had a truck so he could tow me up to the resort. I didn’t want to leave my car here if those clouds held as much snow as I thought they did because there was no telling when a tow truck could come out and rescue it.

  If I lost my car because he’d tricked me into agreeing to this…

  Well, I’d already decided what I was going to do to him.

  I dropped my head back on the headrest. How long had I been sitting here? It had to have been an hour. Surely it was an hour. It felt like an hour.

  I checked my phone.

  Ten minutes.

  That sucked.

  I sighed and put my phone back in the center console. There was still no signal so I wasn’t even going to attempt to call or text anyone. I was merely a sitting duck for whatever came first—Sebastian on his white horse to rescue the poor maiden or those snow clouds.

  I never thought I’d say this, but my God, I hoped it was Sebastian.

  Ten more minutes passed. Why hadn’t I brought a book? This would have been so much more bearable if I had a book and not just a dead Kindle.

  In my defense, I wasn’t sure I’d get a lot of reading done this weekend. It was a ridiculous mistake because any bookworm knew that there was always time to read.

  Even if it was five minutes on the toilet.

  Always.

  Mind you, I’d thought my phone would be adequate for that. Without signal, though, I couldn’t sync to the last spot in the book I was reading, and it wasn’t like I’d planned to get a flat tire right here.

  Sigh.

  A big, black truck rounded the corner of the road ahead of me, and I pursed my lips when I caught sight of Sebastian’s face behind the wheel. I was equal parts happy and annoyed—happy I could be rescued, annoyed he was the rescuer.

  He pulled up beside me and wound down his window. He leaned out of it, grinning at me. “Someone call for a hero?”

  I stared at him. “I’ve been sitting here for hours.”

  “You called me twenty minutes ago.”

  “Same thing.”

  He laughed. “I have to drive down a bit more so I can turn around. Do you have a spare?”

  I shook my head. “I forgot to replace it. I’m stuck.”

  “All right. Let me turn around, and I’ll tow you up. It’s fucking freezing here, then we’ll find someone who can come up and get it sorted.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Give me two minutes.”

  Judging by the way this day was going, those two minutes would feel like thirty.

  Thankfully, he was just as quick as he’d said he was. Within five minutes of him passing me again, he’d maneuvered his truck in front of my Jeep and hooked it up to his tow bar.

  Slowly, we made our way up along the rest of the road. It took three times longer than it should have thanks to my stupid tire and judging by how rocky the final third of the track was, I was going to need a whole new wheel.

  Ugh.

  At least I didn’t have hypothermia.

  I know, I know. I was being dramatic.

  Sebastian pulled me into a parking space, using th
e vacant one in front for his. There was a good two inches of snow on the ground up here, and I shivered as I jumped out of my car. Thank God I’d thought ahead and brought more than enough warm clothing to get through this weekend.

  If only I’d thought to bring alcohol.

  Judging by the way this was going, I was going to need it.

  Sebastian unhooked his tow line from the front of my car. “There. Let’s go in and see if there’s anyone who can come take it today. We’ll come back for your stuff in a minute. You look cold.”

  “I am cold. I was stuck on the side of the mountain for hours.”

  “Forty minutes at most,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

  “It felt like hours, so I’m sticking with hours.” I followed him to the huge ski resort building. It looked like something out of a movie, with the outside all clad in red brick and deep wooden shiplap. The snow that coated the roof made it look somewhat like a fairytale, and Seb held the door open for me to step in.

  Oh.

  It was warm in here.

  A huge fireplace was on the opposite wall to the reception desk, and it roared with a massive fire that was no doubt responsible for the lush warmth that spread through my extremities. Rustic leather armchairs and sofas were dotted around the area, and small groups of people filled almost each and every one.

  Seb led me straight to the VIP desk at the end. “There should be a room for Holley Stuart,” he said to the woman behind the desk whose nametag read ‘Dawn.’

  “Let me check that for you, Mr. Stone.” Her fingers tapped away at the keyboard.

  For a little too long.

  She pursed her deep red lips and looked up. “I’m sorry. We don’t have a reservation under that name.”

  I glared at Sebastian. “You didn’t do it?”

  He looked back at me. “I definitely did. I booked it on Tuesday, and I have the email confirmation.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and brought it up, then showed it to the woman.

  She went back to her computer and, after another thirty seconds or so, shook her head. “I’m sorry, something must have gone wrong in our system. There are no bookings under Holley Stuart, and the only one under your name is your room now.”