The Bookworm's Guide to Dating

by Hart, Emma

  Kinsley blew out a long breath. “No kidding.”

  “That was some quick thinking.” I met her eyes. “And thanks for making me look bad.”

  “Well, it was either you set me up on a bad date or you bent me over the end of your bed,” she said dryly. “You didn’t come out looking good either way, but you’re pretty, and I didn’t want to see you get a right hook tonight.” She patted my jaw and turned away.

  “Where did you come up with that story?”

  “Oh, I read books.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  She looked over her shoulder at me with her hand on the banister. “I’m smart. Duh.”

  Laughing, I followed her up the stairs and back into the bedroom. “I’d like to repeat my last question.”

  “Joshua.” She stood in the middle of my bedroom, wearing my fucking t-shirt still, and put her hands on her hips, fixing her bright blue eyes on me. “I’m a reader. Not only have I lived more lives than you can begin to imagine, but I’ve been in thousands of fictional relationships that I have judged to high heavens. I’m smart, I’m quick-witted, I have tons of absolutely not-real life experience, and—”

  “You’re good in bed?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that, but thank you.” She bounced on the balls of her feet with a grin. “And I know what to do in almost any circumstance.”

  My lips twitched. “Dead body in the backyard?”

  “Call the police and examine the scene before they get here.”

  “Burned cake?”

  “Go to Walmart and get another one.”

  “There’s a vampire at the window.”

  “Throw you at him and run.”

  I laughed and perched on the edge of the bed. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Her smile dropped, and she toyed with the hem of the shirt she was wearing. “But I know I have to go now in case he gets suspicious. I’m already not entirely sure he bought my story.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. Fuck. This sucks.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said in a tone that belied her uncertainty.

  Forcing a smile on my face, I got up and wrapped my arms around her. “Sure we will, book girl.”

  “Book girl?”

  I grimaced. “Sounded cuter in my head.”

  “It’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.” She let out a little chuckle and nestled into my embrace, pressing her cheek against my bare chest. Her eyelashes tickled my skin every time she blinked, and I touched my lips to the top of her head.

  I reveled in the moment for a little longer, just appreciating the way it felt to finally hold her like this. Even though I knew the hardest part was ahead of us, maybe if we just figured it out between us, we could handle the rest together.

  “Josh?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know you’re never getting this t-shirt back, don’t you?”

  I smiled, hugging her a little tighter. “I figured as much.”

  ***

  The next morning brought little to no relief from my guilt.

  It was unseasonably warm today, so after I had coffee, I went to the backyard and pulled my mower from the shed. The weather was definitely turning as we crept toward the end of September, and if I could get my lawn cut two more times before the snow inevitably set in, I’d be happy.

  I set to my task. I didn’t have a massive yard, but I had a sizeable front one along with the back that was more than enough for just me. I hadn’t done a damn thing to either of them since I’d moved in earlier this year. Partly because I didn’t have time, but mostly because I had no idea what to do with them.

  They were boring old hunks of grass.

  Today, I was grateful for it. It didn’t require a tremendous amount of brain power to fire up the mower and walk around the flat, boring yard.

  It did allow my brain to go into overload.

  I’d never thought about something so much in life as I was about Kinsley and our new situation. We hadn’t spoken since she’d left last night except for me texting her goodnight and her telling me to shut up, she was reading.

  I hadn’t expected anything else, to be honest.

  Colton appearing last night out of the blue was a bit of a reality check. Yes, we’d crossed all the lines we had left to cross, but that didn’t mean we’d actually discussed where our relationship stood.

  Or what the hell we were going to do now.

  In theory, it was simple. We could pursue a real relationship and Colton would have to deal with it.

  But if reality was as simple as a theory, we’d all be friends with aliens by now.

  Kinsley and I both knew that wasn’t going to happen. We couldn’t just walk into Bronco’s holding hands and have everything be fine. There was a whole storm we had to weather, and that didn’t even include us.

  Did I regret it?

  No. How could I regret something that made me so happy? Even if we tried then failed, that was better than us never trying at all. A part of me—a big fucking part—wished I’d told her before all this shit happened, but the rest of me was happy it’d happened this way.

  If I’d told her a year ago, would she have felt the same?

  Was she only open to this because we’d spent a lot of time together lately? We’d hung out at her place, at the bookstore, at the bar. Hell, we’d even had dinner.

  We’d never done any of that before.

  Not alone, anyway.

  I sighed and shut off the mower. I’d finished both yards, and now I had to deal with life outside my little bubble of a house.

  I locked the shed and went back inside where I took a shower. It was quick and hot, and I scrubbed my body so hard I took off a good couple of layers of skin in my never-ending frustration.

  I was almost thirty, for fucks sake.

  Why was all of this even an issue?

  Fucking stupid schoolboy crush.

  I dressed in my room, tossed the towel in the laundry, and headed downstairs. I had nothing to do now that job was done, so I threw myself onto the sofa and turned on the TV. My phone was flashing with a message from its spot on the coffee table and I grabbed it to check.

  KINSLEY: Don’t tell ANYONE. I told Saylor and Holley the same story I told Colton.

  ME: Shit. I need to cancel that billboard.

  KINSLEY: Hardy har har.

  ME: Make sure you don’t hurt yourself laughing too hard.

  KINSLEY: At your jokes? Not likely.

  ME: Oh, how she wounds me.

  KINSLEY: Be quiet.

  KINSLEY: We need to talk about this.

  ME: Absolutely. Let’s do it. I’m free now.

  KINSLEY: I mean actually talk, Joshua, not have sex.

  ME: I see no reason why we can’t do both.

  KINSLEY: I started my period this morning.

  ME: That’ll be the reason.

  KINSLEY: Thank you.

  ME: You know people do do it while on their period.

  KINSLEY: I am not those people.

  ME: I’ve never done it myself, but apparently it’s better than normal.

  KINSLEY: Let me put this in a way you can understand.

  KINSLEY: If you come near my vagina at any point during the process of the shedding of my uterine lining and the cramping of the same uterine walls, so help me God I will grab your balls with a metal nutcracker and twist so hard that they’ll retreat back inside you and you’ll taste your own sperm.

  ME: So that’s a clear no, then.

  KINSLEY: You’re hard work.

  ME: You’re not exactly a walk in the park yourself. Your brother is the reason for this.

  KINSLEY: No, your immature and misguided teenage pact is the reason for this.

  ME: If you want to be specific…

  KINSLEY: When am I ever not specific?

  ME: I can’t think of any situations. Even during sex. It’s slightly distracting.

  KINSLEY: If I don
’t tell you, how will you know where my clitoris is?

  ME: I believe my tongue located it pretty swiftly last night.

  ME: Or you need an Oscar nomination.

  KINSLEY: Shut up.

  ME: You’re welcome for that, by the way.

  KINSLEY: Shut up!

  ME: Are you getting embarrassed? Are you blushing?

  KINSLEY: I’m going to kill you.

  ME: But then you’ll never have another orgasm again.

  KINSLEY: Hey. Until last night, I hadn’t had sex in a year. The middle drawer of my nightstand says I most definitely WILL have orgasms. With or without you.

  ME: Now we’re talking.

  KINSLEY: I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

  ME: I’m snooping in your drawers next time I come to your place.

  KINSLEY: Don’t you dare!!!!!!!!

  ME: Shoulda thought about that before you told me you have a sex shop in your nightstand. What other kinky things don’t I know about you?

  There was a knock at my door, and I threw my phone down, chuckling at myself. Winding her up was more fun than I’d realized.

  Dirty banter was the best banter.

  I pulled open the front door and stopped short.

  Colton’s eyebrows shot up. “Expecting someone else?”

  “Like who? Santa Claus?” I dropped my grip on the door handle and moved aside to let him in. “I thought you were at work.”

  “The realtor had an opening for this morning,” he explained, closing the front door behind him. “I’m not in until after lunch, so I thought I’d stop by. You don’t have my sister hiding in your bathroom again, do you?”

  I was going to ignore that.

  “How’d it go?”

  “The viewing, or my sister in your bathroom?”

  “The viewing. I have no knowledge of your sister’s bathroom habits,” I said dryly. “Coffee?”

  “Please. It went well,” he said, skipping over my response. “There’s not a lot left to do to get it finished, and the asking price is the same as you paid even though the yard is a little smaller.”

  “End plot,” I said. “That’s why I borrowed the last couple grand from my grandma to get this place.”

  He grunted. “It’s big enough. I’m gonna call and make an offer a little under this afternoon citing the yard size.”

  “Awesome.” I put a mug under the machine and pressed the button. “The developers are fair. I think they’ll understand.”

  Another non-committal sound came from him.

  “Is this it, then?” I asked, glancing over at him. “Is it finally the end for you and Amber?”

  “It’s been over for a long time. Neither of us wanted to give up the sex.” He took the mug when it was finished. “But even that’s not great anymore.”

  “Thanks for the visual.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Sadly. Are you ending it, then?”

  “Gonna wait until I know for sure about the house, but yeah. It’s coming. We want the same thing but in different ways.”

  “Sorry, Colt. You’ve been together a long time.”

  He shrugged and poured creamer in his mug. “Win some, lose some.”

  A relationship that had lasted as many years as his wasn’t something I’d quantify as ‘losing some,’ but hey.

  He’d already resigned himself to the end.

  “So what are you doing about my sister?”

  I choked on my coffee. “What?”

  “Dating.”

  “What?”

  “Her dating thing.” He looked at me as if I was stupid. “Matchmaking. Setting her up.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Oh, that. I don’t know.”

  “Thought you were giving it up.”

  “Tempted to,” I said vaguely. “But I kinda owe her for last night.”

  Owed her round two… when she wasn’t on her period.

  “Her shit date? Isn’t she fed up of those yet?”

  I shrugged and perched on one of the bar stools at the island. “Obviously not.”

  “I thought she liked Elliott.”

  “She does, but like she said, she’s keeping her options open.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Kinsley.”

  “Just repeating what she’s told me.”

  “Mm. I was just saying.”

  I wish he wouldn’t. “Don’t ask me, ask her.”

  “I will.” Colt paused. “Is something wrong? You’re acting weird.”

  Yeah, I fucked your sister last night. You could say something’s wrong.

  “Didn’t sleep well,” I replied, sipping my coffee for good measure.

  “I saw you mow your lawn.”

  “What are you? My keeper? Fuck.”

  Colton held up his hands. “You really didn’t sleep well last night.”

  I shook my head and walked into the living room with him hot on my heels. My phone was still unlocked and on the text screen of my last conversation with Kinsley, and I snatched it up right as Colt sat down and looked at it.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I shoved the phone in my pocket. “Just some girl I met online. Why?”

  “I thought I saw something about my sister and sex.”

  “Her name is Kelly. Probably misread it,” I answered, sitting in the armchair instead of my usual spot on the sofa. “You only glanced at it.”

  “You’re right.” He shook it off and looked at the TV, catching the breaking news scrolling across the bottom of the screen on the sports news channel. “How about these shit fucking trades then, huh?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – KINSLEY

  rule seventeen: unlike most heroines in romance novels, menstruation is a thing. and you will bleed like hell and be a crabby bitch with cramps and an unrelenting need for sugar and carbs. you’re welcome.

  In all seriousness, anyone who wished to end their day with their life still able to be lived needed to fuck the hell off away from me.

  One year.

  One year. That’s how long it’d been since I last had sex.

  Did Mother Nature give a shit about that? Nooo, she did not. I didn’t know who pissed in her Cheerios, but it was not justifiable by giving me my period the morning after I’d finally had sex.

  And damn good sex, at that.

  No matter what I said to Josh, that man knew his way around the genital area, and he really had found my clitoris with his tongue without any direction.

  Seriously.

  He could teach a class on locating the clitoris.

  Not that he’d be locating mine for the next few days.

  Ugh.

  Being a woman really, really sucked.

  Look, don’t think I was being ungrateful. I really was thankful that I wasn’t pregnant, but at this point in history, Mother Nature probably had WiFi. An email would have sufficed.

  Long story short, I was pissed.

  Admittedly, it did make things somewhat easier. With sex off the table, there was less reason for us to spend a night together which meant less instances for Josh and I to ultimately explain.

  Since we were officially sneaking around.

  Not that he knew that yet.

  But if your best friends didn’t know the truth, you were definitely sneaking around.

  Despite my bitching, I was happy, in a weird kind of way. Now we’d successfully crossed all the lines and dotted all the corners, removing the sexual element of the relationship meant we had to connect on another level.

  An emotional one.

  The same one that scared the ever-loving crap out of me.

  Mostly because, given my current emotional state, I was liable to cry at a bread commercial.

  Don’t judge me. We’ve all been there.

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  I stared at Ivy. She was sitting at one of the tables at the front of the store, her swollen ankles up on another chair, and a torn-open bag of chips resting on her swollen stomach.r />
  “That’s a random question,” I replied, right as the baby kicked and almost knocked her snack off her stomach.

  “Stop that,” she said, tapping her belly. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

  “About the last time I had sex?”

  “People in general.”

  “Pregnancy is weird,” I muttered, finishing up arranging the shelf I was working on.

  “You’re telling me,” she retorted. “Yesterday, I couldn’t stand the smell of these chips. Now I can’t stop eating them.”

  I wrinkled my nose up at the strong onion smell that was emanating from her direction. “There’s a reason you couldn’t stand the smell of them, Ives.”

  She paused, her mouth open, chip held in mid-air. “I’m sorry. Am I stinking out your store?”

  “Yes, but it’ll just give your sister an excuse to put potpourri everywhere.” I brushed my hands on my jeans and walked over to her. “Do you need anything?”

  “Do you have any water?”

  I held up a finger and went into the staffroom to grab two bottles from the fridge, then took them back out.

  “You’re my favorite person today,” Ivy said, uncapping the ice-cold water.

  “Because I’m letting you eat those chips to annoy your sister?”

  “Yes!” She sipped, then eyed me. “And you’re going to tell me about the last time you had sex.”

  I frowned, toying with my own bottle. “About a year ago. Nothing special. Probably why it was the last time I had sex,” I lied.

  “Liar!”

  My mouth dropped open. “I am not lying!”

  I was, obviously, lying.

  And apparently not very well.

  It wasn’t really one of my strong points, if I was honest with myself.