Page 37 of Texting My Valentine

Why does he sound like he’s getting defensive?

“Do you have any photos?”

“No,” he replies. “People say he has my eyes. Robin—that’s my brother—used to say that before… But I don’t have any photos.”

He doesn’t have any photos of his nephew on his phone? Isn’t that a tiny bit suspicious?

“Maybe you could take a selfie sometime,” I say, trying to make it lighthearted. “I could compare the eyes; give my two cents.”

“I can do that,” he replies. “But only if you talk some sense into this character of yours, this, what did you call it? Framing device?”

I’m touched that he remembered. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“When’s the performance?” he asks.

“Nuh-uh, no way. This notebook is sweet,verysweet, but it doesn’t buy you a ticket to that crap show.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says fiercely, reaching across the table and taking my hand.

More tingles dance up my arm at the contact.

“I bet it’s not crap. The furthest thing from it.”

Thank you,I almost say.That means a lot. I get self-conscious, and your reassurance helps for some reason.

Instead, I laugh, not caring if it sounds forced. “Easy, I was only kidding.” Lie. “I need to get back to work.” That’s another lie, probably, because matchmaker Rowan would most likely let me sit here all day if it meant flirting and bonding with my Valentine Casanova.

“I’m going to have dinner here,” Alex says, his eyes locked on me as I stand up.

He’s staring in that captivating way again.

Nothing, nobody else matters. Just me. Just us. Whatever the heck this is.

“Okay,” I say, oh-so breezily. “That’s cool. I’ll send over a waiter.”

As I return to the bar, I resist the urge to clasp the notebook to my chest, which, if he’s the kind of manipulative guy the cynical part of me is painting, is probably exactly what he wants.

CHAPTER 12

ALEX

Alex:You’re so sweet with the customers.One elderly man walked past me, singing your praises. Apparently, you always go the extra mile to make the regulars feel welcome.

I know she won’t get this until her shift is over, but it’s the truth. As she rushes up and down the bar, where people also order food, she’s got a gorgeous energy that captivates me. Her hair bounces on her shoulders, her cheeks are flushed, and her smile is magnetic.

She walks to the end of the bar during a lull, then, like magic, a text comes.

Tori:Some of them don’t have anything else. It’s sad. I consider it my job to make them feel welcome.

I grin when she looks over at me, playfully waving her phone.

Alex:What happened to not texting at work?

Tori:Rowan has mysteriously lifted that ban… but only for the duration of your stay here. It’s almost like she’s got a specific outcome in mind.

Alex:Any ideas?

Tori:I’m pretty sure she’d want me to ask you…

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