Page 21 of Hating the Book Boyfriend

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says, his hand resting on the countertop beside me. "So what are you making?"

"Isn't it obvious…" I gesture to the beans and grinder in front of me. "Coffee."

He picks up the bag of beans. "These are from St. Louis. Why do you have beans from St. Louis?"

I roll my shoulder and slightly turn my chin toward him. "Um, do you mind? A little space would be nice."

"I think I can accommodate that request…" His shoulder bumps mine. "If you make me a cup."

"Fine," I sigh. I'm running on fumes as it is, and I don't have the energy to argue with him. I laid awake, unable to fall asleep after the time we spent together in the bathroom. The man beside me is different from the one I knew growing up, and I don't know what to do with it. My mind says nothing. He wanted to kiss you but couldn't tell you what would happen next. That's a red flag, but I'm also a sucker for a fucking red flag. "You're not moving," I remind him when he doesn't back away.

"I changed my mind. I like standing here." He's not touching me, but he's standing close enough that I can feel his body heat, which is almost just as bad. It's intoxicating. The house is full of drafts with the kitchen remodel underway, and I'm so mixed up emotionally that I don't know what I want more: to lean into him or yell at him to step away again. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes," easily rolls off my tongue as I struggle to continue the task at hand of putting the freshly ground coffee into the French press.

"The good kind of uncomfortable?" he questions, bringing his other arm around me to rest on the countertop, effectively caging me in but still not touching me.

My body starts to buzz. I like him being this close way more than I should. He couldn't give me answers last night, and nothing has changed between now and then. "It doesn't matter," I say, trying to sound unaffected by his antics.

"You're wrong," he leans in a little closer. "Yes means you don't want me to step away." I slightly turn my head towards his voice, and when I do, it sounds in my other ear as his front lightly skims my back, and he adds, "Yes means I linger a little longer. Yes means we stay like this." When I don't pull away or refute his claims, he leans in fully, his body now flush against mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention as the electricity between us consumes me. But before I can make heads or tails of any of it, reality does it for me.

"JoJo, are you up?" Boots quickly descend the open spindle staircase between the kitchen and the living room, making Colton jolt back. Coward. I pour the hot water into my press as my brother appears. "Oh hey, you're both up. I need to head down to the area where we cut down trees for the Friendsgiving decor the other day. I'm going to take some soil samples, check the draining, and see if I can't cycle some hops into that section next spring."

"More hops? I know the private label has been doing well, but well enough to support another crop over trees?"

"It's doing really well, JoJo. I'll send this quarter's reports tonight, and we can decide together. Either way, I need to see if that field is even a viable option." His eyes briefly flick between Colton and me, and I can't tell what I see there. It could besuspicion, but it might just be my guilty conscience making mountains out of molehills, knowing what he may have seen had he not been wearing his farm boots, but socks instead. "What do you say, Callahan? Want to help me take some samples? That section butts up to your property." My brother shrugs. "The tests are likely representative of your soil as well."

Why would an East Coast lawyer care about the chemical compounds of his soil? I slowly press the plunger of my press down and store my brother's comments away for another time. My brain needs coffee.

"Yeah, I'll come with you as long as I don't have to carry any trees. The sap on those Douglas Fir trees we chopped down gave me a rash."

My phone starts ringing in my pocket. Ringing, not chiming from a text. I pull it out and see it's a FaceTime call from Libby. Shit. This must be important if she's FaceTiming the group. I can't miss the call, and I don't need Archer and Colton prying.

"You can have this one," I say as I push the French press toward Colton. "I need to take this," I rush out of the kitchen without another word.

I’m pulling on my boots to walk out to the barn and I attempt to hide my smirk as I listen to Ava try to figure out how to work FaceTime. She’s smarter than people give her credit for, but the little things trip her up. It’s endearing and one of the many reasons I love her. Snowball starts barking as I walk out across the field, and I miss the question that’s asked. I pet his head and he calms down as he walks beside me, and Libby says, "I'll go. As you know from my texts, I'm actually working with two BBB clients right now. The first is Gina, the woman that's one half of a lesbian couple.”

"I've been curious about that. How's it working out?" I ask, intrigued.

"Really well, actually. I think most people want the same basic things from a relationship, no matter their gender or sexual orientation. The lady is really sweet and very in love with Lauren, but Gina had a hard home life growing up. She didn't receive much affection as a kid, and now she's not sure how to show affection to her partner."

"That's sad," Ava says, finally figuring out how to work the call.

"It is, and Lauren's love language is physical touch. I'm trying to be cautious because I don't want Gina to do anything she's uncomfortable with, so I told her to take it slowly. I gave her a few assignments for the week, things she said were within her comfort level, and she was eager to try."

"Sounds like you're doing everything right," I say. "What about your other client?"

"I'm struggling with this one," Libby sighs.

"Asshat?" Gemma asks.

"No. Actually, it's Riggs Romero." We all stay silent as the name sinks in.

"Riggs fucking Romero?" We all erupt at once, bombarding her with catcalls.

"Yep, totally banging him like a screen door in a hurricane," Gemma taunts.

"Stop it! I'm not going to bang him," Libby insists, and we all raise our eyebrows. "Seriously, I'm not. Hisgirlfriendsigned him up. Plus, it would be totally unprofessional," she defends.

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