Page 70 of A Novel Love Story

I slid into the chair opposite him. “There weren’t any straws.”

“There aren’t any in Eloraton unless you ask for them,” he replied.“They’re abysmal for the environment. You know, saving the whales.”

“I have heard about that.”

“My sister could give you a three-hour presentation on it, if you let her.” He reached into the bag and divvied up our tacos. He got four to my two, and we split an order of nachos. Somehow, the revelation that he hadsiblingswas more shocking than anything else about him.

“You have asister?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he remarked dryly.

“Sorry, sorry.” And then I schooled my face and said in my best impression of him, stoic and level, “You have a sister?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Hmm.”

“Admit it,” I said as he took his first bite of tripe taco with hot sauce, “I’m a better you than you are.”

“Are you now,” he replied, amused.

So I adopted his stoic voice and said, “Are you now.” Then I grabbed a menu from the middle of the napkin holder and pretended it was a book. “Hello, I’m Anders the bookstore owner, and I like to glower and judge your favorite books.”

He about choked on his food. “I donotjudge someone by their favorite books, thank you.”

“Unless …”

He inclined his head. “I don’t.”

“Unless …”I nudged again, because I knew there was an exception. There was alwaysoneexception.

And so he finally caved, “Unless it’s one of those self-help-business-guru pull-your-self-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of books.”

“Ooh, the kind where the author is always white, probably bald, middle-aged?”

“Standing in the corner of the book cover, arms crossed,” he noted.

I could see it so clearly. “And he probably paid a ghostwriter not nearly enough money to repeat the same thing every other self-help business guru said intheirbook but with a different adjective?”

“And they all eventually start suing each other for copyright infringement and no one can trace back to who said what first?”

“How oddly specific,” I noted, unable to hide a smile.

And he almost—almost—echoed it. I’m sure his smile was lovely, and I really wanted to see it. “My secret. I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.”

I crossed my pinkie over my chest.“Never.”

“How do I not believe you,” he noted, his eyes sparkling, and licked a bit of hot sauce off his thumb. His tongue was quick. I remembered the way it wanted to explore my mouth last night.

“So, where is your sister now?”

“Manitoba. Studying belugas.”

“That sounds so cool. I’ve never seen a beluga before. Do you ever visit her?” I asked, picking at my taco. Maybe it was a holdover from my hangover this morning, but I didn’t really have an appetite. Or maybe it was nerves. Was this a date? No, no. It couldn’t be.

If it was, it was the best date I’d been on in years. My only one, too, but never mindsemantics.

“No,” he replied. “She moved up there after I came to Eloraton.”

“And you haven’t left since?”

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