Page 19 of How to Write a Rom-Com

When she disappears again, I turn back to Liam, whose arms, whoseverymuscular arms, are now crossed in front of him. Stay focused, Lucy. Don’t compare them to the forearms described in every single freaking romance book you’ve ever read.

Liam sighs. “Historically speaking, when people visit from Manhattan, families notwithstanding, their intentions are usually to build a resort, or luxury condominiums that price out the locals. They’re only concerned with what the town can do for them. And I guess I was worried that you were more of the same,” he sighs, shrugging. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you and your intentions.”

Um.

Well.

Fuck.

You might be a bit on the nose there, Mr. Miller.

Okay, but this isn’t actually the plot of a Hallmark movie. I’m not here to demolish his town or franchise his business. I’m just here for theexperience. I’m not stealing anything. I’m not taking anything away from the townspeople. I’m just seeing what it has to offer.

“I hope you realize that not everyone from the city is evil,” I say, brushing it off. “And not everyone from the city drives fancy cars. Most of us can’t even afford cars. The car I’m driving is a friend’s car. It would literally take me ten years at my current salary to even be able to finance that car.”Man, that is so depressing to say out loud.

Liam exhales and the tension in his shoulders visibly softens.

“I don’t thinkallpeople from the city are evil,” he says. “I just don’t trust them.”

“Well, there are about three million of us that live on that island, so maybe you should open your mind a little bit,” I suggest. I put my thumb and pointer finger together, making a “just a little bit” gesture with my hand. Liam finally breaks a smile.

“I guess that’s reasonable,” he says.

Well, this scouting mission has been a little bit of a bust. Beth the Bitchy Librarian gave me zero insight into a happy-go-lucky townie who could own a used bookstore, and now Liam, the self-proclaimed Officer Against the Infiltration of Urban Outsiders, is continuing to treat me like an enemy of the state. How am I ever going to write an outline for this book when I can’t even find one inspirational character?

I start to turn for the door when Liam speaks again. “Lucy, wait,” he says, catching me up. “I’m sorry, really. I just—can we try this again?”

“Try what again?”

“This,” he gestures between us. He stands up straight and quietly clears his throat. “So, Lucy, nice to see you again,” he says in a British-sounding voice.

“Jury is still out on that one,” I reply, raising a brow.

Liam ignores me. “I see you’ve chosen to spend a beautiful summer’s day in an old dusty library, what’s that about?” he asks, still in character.

Shit, he’s eerily intuitive. Or maybe it just stems from him being chronically suspicious. How do I lie to him when I can clearly see that he’s trying to make the best out of this strange situation?

“I’m an editor, I go where the books are,” I say with ease. Okay, there are worse things I could have said. That wasn’t too bad.

“Sure, but what are youreallydoing here?”

“What?” My cheeks go red as I consider the real meaning behind his question. Does he think everything I’ve said to him has been a lie? Is he asking me what I’m doing in Hudson Hollow? Have I only been on the job one week and already my cover is blown? I would suck onLaw & Order. “I didn’t realize you doubled as the library security,” I quip, trying to divert attention away from Liam’s question. I turn and walk toward a stack of books, trying to end our conversation. He follows me.

“Or it’s just a curious mind wondering what kind of publishing company allows their employees to take a month’s long vacation.”

“Are you familiar with the HR policies of publishing houses?”

“I could be if I set my mind to it,” he replies quickly. I narrow my eyes at him. He does the same to me.

I feel myself wavering.Stay as close to the truth as possible, Anne’s voice echoes in my head. “Well,” I start, unsure of what I’m actually going to say. “If youwerefamiliar with our policies, you would know that employees are entitled to a four-week sabbatical after working at the company for five years.” He doesn’t need to know that the rule actually applies to people who have been there ten years and it’s an eight-week sabbatical.

“Is that so?”

“Yep, so here I am.”

“Hmm,” he grunts. He quickly checks his phone. “I have to get back. And I am sorry, for being judgmental,” he adds.

“Sure you are,” I shake my head.

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