Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I signed up for this shit weeks ago; it’s merely a happy coincidence that Juliette came along and made it this much more…
Pleasant?
Nope. Not the right word for it…
“Volunteer?” He snorts. “Hard pass.”
Her brows go up. “Really? You seem like the first person who would offer up their time. You were giving me fun vibes during that tour of the event space…”
Storm shrugs. “I would rather read sci-fi or horror.”
I chuckle. “What about picture books—are those your speed? What’d they do up in Canada? Shove a hockey stick in your hand and call it a day, eh?”
He laughs. “Something like that.”
“Then stop grilling Juliette. She’s doing her job.” I clap him on the shoulder and squeeze until he winces. “You’re exhausting.”
“I’m the perfect wing man.” He shakes me off.
“You’re bored,” I reply.
Juliette is amused now, biting her bottom lip to hold in her laugh. “How did you find out we were going to be here?”
“Yeah, you weirdo. Are you following me?” Or her?
“Naw. Stopped by the office and the social media girl was in the hallway and said something about the foundation sponsoring it. I thought we were supposed to be here. Show up, take some pics, be a hero,” Storm insists, flexing his bicep. “No one told me it was kids.”
“You came to a library and weren’t expecting books?” I ask, at the same time as a group of kids run past us screaming about glitter and glue, and Storm flinches as if one of them has sacked him in the nuts.
“There’s no way you could’ve handled five minutes in that chair,” I boast.
“I could handle it,” he argues.
“You one hundred percent could not.”
Juliette grins at him. “We’ll sign you up next time.”
“No fuckin way, dude—I’d rather sign autographs.”
She grins wider. “We can arrange that, too.”
We start toward the door, then he turns to me. “For the record, you did look grumpy in that chair.”
“I was not grumpy.”
“You were a little grumpy,” Juliette chimes in. “Especially when that little cutie asked what was wrong with your ears.”
Storm beams as if he’s won something. “See?”
“Jesus Christ, there is nothing wrong with my ears!”
He snorts. “Says you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Shhh,” Juliette hisses under her breath, glancing around. “People can hear you.”
Storm laughs and barrels ahead, pushing through the library doors. The afternoon sunlight hits all three of us at once, the real world rushing back in—cars in the lot, parents wrangling their toddlers back into booster seats, the hum of a normal afternoon.
“Well, gentlemen. It was wonderful seeing you both.” Juliette smiles at us like we’re mildly embarrassing but manageable idiots. “Drive safe. Have fun at practice.”
There’s a half-second where it feels like one of us might linger.
We don’t.
Not with Storm up our assholes.
He goes one way. Juliette another. I unlock my truck and climb in, shutting the door with more force than necessary.
Silence fills the cab.
I sit idly for exactly three seconds.
Then I pull my phone out of the console cupholder and hit her name.
It rings once.
Twice.
She answers on the third with a breathy sigh. “Hi.”
“He is so dumb,” I say. “Like, a total dipshit.”
Juliette laughs. “Let’s give him some credit—he definitely knew something was off. Which means, if he can sense it, other people will be able to sense it.”
I lean back against my seat, tapping my fingers on the armrest. “Does it bother you?”
“Maybe a little,” she says honestly. “Does it bother you?”
Fuck no.
I glance out the window at nothing in particular: an SUV pulls past; a woman loads a stroller into a minivan. “It bothers me that it bothers you.”
Silence stretches. “Is that so?”
I shrug, though she can’t see me. “Possibly.”
“Hmm. Do you suppose Garrett was jealous?”
Yeah.
Dude was definitely jealous.
“I don’t think Storm has the emotional depth for jealousy,” I say dryly. “He likes stirring the pot.”
“He was trying so hard to flirt with me while you were with the kids,” she counters.
“Flirting is his whole personality.”
She laughs. “No, this was different.”
I drum my fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “You’re giving him way too much credit.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well…” she says slowly. “If he was jealous, that would imply that he’s… that he…”
She can’t say it, so I’ll say it for her: “That he’s attracted to you? He can take a number and get in line.”
It’s also entirely possible that Storm is into Juliette because I’m into Juliette.
Men are simple creatures. See another man holding something shiny? Suddenly, we need it, even if we didn’t know it existed five minutes ago.
Hence, his appearance here.
The library.
Of all the places for him to randomly show up, it had to be between a children’s reading nook and a rack of donated romance novels. Like, give me a fucking break.
From my spot near the entrance, I watch Juliette’s car back out of the parking spot and ease into the street. Her brake lights glow red for a second before she turns the corner and disappears.