Page 108 of Perfectly Grumpy

“So,” she says, clearing her throat and turning away from me. “What do we do now?”

I contemplate for a second and reply, “I could think of a few ideas.”

She tilts her head. “Are you trying to be smooth right now, Sheriff?”

“Smooth has never been my strong suit,” I admit. “But for the record, you’re the one who told me to take my shirt off.”

“I told you to hang it up to dry,” she says. “There’s a difference between common sense and…whatever this is.”

“Well, I’m sure it was the excellent medical care that gave me these ideas,” I say. “Even if the expiration date on those first-aid supplies was questionable.”

“I’d prescribe reading to keep your mind off any…ideas.” She looks over at my bag. “Could we read your book? You still have the old draft on the iPad, don’t you?”

I reach for my bag. “Yeah, the one before edits.”

She settles against her pillow, curling up next to me. “Perfect. Give me the unfiltered story.”

THIRTY-FIVE

lauren

Smooth, Lauren. Real smooth.But what else was I supposed to do? The way he was looking at me in the candlelight, the way my heart was bouncing in my chest when he said he had “ideas”—I could feel myself stepping over the cliff of no return. So I did what I always do when things get too real—I found a distraction.

And for the next half hour, it worked. Listening to Tate read let me focus on a fictional world, instead of the very real tension that’s simmering between us. As much as I’d like to find Bart and force a confession out of him, I love hearing Tate read his own words with only the glow of candlelight and the rain pattering against the roof.

But when he got to the scene where Thorne finally kisses Kyara, I suddenly couldn’t ignore what was missing anymore. “Okay, stop right there,” I say, hopping off the sofa bed.

Tate looks up from his book, the candle flames reflecting off his glasses. “Do you need a minute?”

“No, I stopped because you just glossed over a key scene.”

He looks perplexed. “Really? What did I miss?”

I play with the ring on my finger, twirling it slowly. “Thorne’s feelings, especially when he kisses her,” I say, heat rising in my chest.

When I didn’t know Tate was the author, I felt totally comfortable discussing Thorne and Kyara’s attraction. But talking about romantic scenes with Tate when all I can think about is kissing him? Pure torture.

He sets the iPad in his lap. “That’s the type of guy Thorne is. Too logical to think about his feelings.”

“I get that,” I say, “but you glossed over their kiss. Like it didn’t even happen.”

“That’s what Thorne wants to believe. He’s denying his emotions for Kyara because she’s supposed to be his enemy, not the woman he falls for.”

“But that’s what we want to see! We’re watching him fall for her despite his promise not to. And we want to see everything he is thinking as it happens.”

Tate frowns, then shakes his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You wrote it like you were explaining a hockey play, Tate. Instead, you need to write it like you’reinthe scene. Thorne finds her in the hollow, they argue, then they kiss.The end.But what is happening in his head?” I turn to Tate and notice how he’s working his jaw, thinking it over. “Every woman wants to peek inside a guy’s brain and know what they’re thinking.”

Tate shakes his head firmly. “No, you really don’t.”

“We don’t want to live there—that would be terrifying,” I say. “We just want to know why men do what they do. If we had that answer, imagine how much less therapy we would need?”

“So, are you saying the scene lacks emotion?”

I hesitate. “Well…” The last thing I want to do is hurt Tate’s feelings.

“Say no more,” he says. “I need to rewrite it. I didn’t even realize that scene needed work.”

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