Page 39 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“And the romance?” I teased.

“I would have liked the book better with a little less kissing and a little more game time.”

I laughed. That tracked. “Give me your phone.”

He snatched it from the table and held onto it.

“Dyl, you’re going to have to trust me.”

He reluctantly placed it in my hand, and I found his photo roll. The pictures he’d taken tonight were hilariously bad. The pizza was in focus and not his face. Or he somehow managed to give himself a double-chin. I found one that was so bad it was perfect. It looked like an accidental shot. It showed an extreme close up of his face, and he didn’t have the scowl he usually wore because he was looking off in the distance at something.

I posted it with the caption. “Next time: Less kissing, more ice.” Then put the title of the book and five star-emojis after it.

Dylan took his phone back and read the post. “The author is going to think I hate it.”

“You’re teasing her, and she’s going to love it.” I nudged his side. “We’ve got to show people you’re not so serious all the time.”

“So pretend to be someone I’m not.” He scowled down at the table.

“Nope. Just let some of those walls down keeping everyone out. There’s more to life than hockey.”

“Not for me. When are you off?” Dylan asked.

I checked the time on my phone. “About fifteen minutes ago.” I grinned at him. “My boss is going to close up tonight.”

“I’ll walk you hom—” he started, but his words were cut off when a running toddler bumped into our table, knocking Dylan’s half-full soda glass over. Soda careened toward me. In a flash so quick I hardly had time to process what was happening, Dylan lifted me from my seat like I weighed no more than a slice of pizza and set me in his lap.

Hislap.

The one with the muscular legs connected to the muscular stomach connected to the face only inches from mine. He was warmth and hardness all rolled into one, and he smelled like spearmint gum and my triple berry body wash. Almost no time had passed since he grabbed me, and yet all my senses took him in—from his hands splayed against my hips to my legs pressed to his.

Then time sped up, and the entire cup of soda spilled across my empty seat a breath later with a splash.

“I’m so sorry!” Max said exasperatedly as he caught his racing nephew by the back of the shirt. When he saw me and Dylan, his expression went from apologetic to blank. “Hi, Dylan.”

Dylan grunted a hello. Max looked back and forth between us, the puzzle pieces clicking together. For one second, I froze. I debated. Was pretending to be in a relationship with Dylan really the right way to get Max’s attention? What if it backfired? Dylan’s arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me firmly him. Max’s gaze flew down to his grip.

My resolve strengthened. I wrapped an arm around Dylan’s broad shoulders, to make it that much clearer.He’s my boyfriend, see? I sit on his lap in public. We’re so cute and obvious. You’re really missing out.

Max’s nephew let out a shrill squeal that broke Max’s gaze away from us.

“See you around, Josie.” Max picked up his screaming nephew and hauled him over his shoulder to high-tail it out of there.

I, on the other hand, had not high-tailed it off Dylan’s lap, as I should have several seconds ago. It was going to be real awkward … any minute now.

Dylan’s mouth twitched. “Comfortable?”

“Actually, yeah. Better than the futon.”

“That’s a really low bar.” He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret but was definitely not,My brain is buzzing with over sensation.

Nope.

More like:My jaw can cut through diamonds.

No, wait. That was my thought again. Dylan’s hard ridges had me in a haze.

He shifted his weight, and the movement knocked me to my senses. It was one thing to take advantage of an opportune moment, but quite another to decide tolivein that moment.

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