Page 102 of From Wink to Kink

I lean against a bookshelf, watching the scene with a mixture of pride and amusement. Who would have thought that my worlds would collide like this? The man I love, bringing theexcitement of sports to the hallowed halls of my beloved San Francisco Public Library.

As Chuck finishes the story, applause breaks out. He grins, looking up and catching my eye. Damn him. He still takes my breath away.

Will it always be like this?

"Alright, kids," he says, standing up. "Who wants to learn how to hold a hockey stick?"

The excited shrieks that follow make me wince slightly, and I can't help but smile. Chuck has a way with kids that never fails to warm my heart. As he starts demonstrating proper stick-handling technique, I slip away to check on the autograph line setup.

By the time the event wraps up, Chuck has signed what feels like a thousand books, jerseys, and even a few hockey pucks that enterprising fans brought along. His hand must be cramping, but he's still smiling, still taking the time to chat with each person who approaches him.

The team’s PR guy, Vince Vincent, would be proud.

"That was amazing," I tell him as we leave the library, hand in hand. "I think you might have a future in children's literature if this whole hockey thing doesn't work out."

Chuck laughs, pulling me close and pressing a kiss to my temple. "Only if you'll be my editor, Brooks. You know I'm hopeless with grammar."

I pretend to consider it. "I don't know, your dangling participles might be more than I can handle."

"My participles can dangle for you anytime," he says with a wink.

I groan, shoving him playfully. "That doesn't even make sense, you goof."

As we walk home, I can't help but marvel at how much has changed in six short months.

One year later…

"Okay, so then Ruby realizes that the retreat isn't what she thought it was, and she starts to panic..." I trail off, noticing that Chuck isn't typing anymore. In fact, he's not even looking at the laptop screen. He's looking at me with an intensity that makes my cheeks flush.

"Chuck? You okay?"

He blinks, seeming to come back to himself. "Yeah, sorry. I was just... remembering."

I feel a smile tugging at my lips. "Remembering what, exactly?"

Chuck's grin turns wicked. "Oh, you know. The way you looked when you realized what kind of retreat it was. All flustered and cute."

"It was not cute," I protest. "It was… enlightening. Educational. A learning opportunity."

"Educationally cute," he insists, setting the laptop aside and pulling me into his lap. "In fact, I think I need a refresher on just how cute you were."

I roll my eyes, but I don't resist as he starts trailing kisses down my neck. "We're supposed to be writing, remember? The publisher wants the first three chapters of our book by next week."

"Mm-hmm," Chuck murmurs against my skin. "And we'll get right back to that. After I remind you of that night..."

Needless to say, we don't get much writing done that afternoon. Or that evening. Or, if I'm being honest, for the next couple of days.

But that's okay. We have a lifetime to tell our story. And in the meantime, well... I'm more than happy to do some hands-on "research" with my favorite co-author.

Eighteen Months Later…

"Are you sure about this?" Chuck asks for what must be the hundredth time. "I mean, I support you one hundred percent, but I don't want you to feel like you have to do this."

I take a deep breath, looking at the imposing campus of San Francisco State University. "I'm sure," I say, and I mean it. "It's time."

He squeezes my hand. "Okay then. Let's get you registered, college girl."

As we navigate the maze of administration buildings and registration lines, I feel a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside me. It's been a while since I was last in a classroom, and the thought of being a student again is more than a little daunting.

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