Page 21 of Someone to Have
That was the moment I volunteered to tackle my bucket list item. I wanted to do something–—anything—to support her. It’s embarrassing that I haven’t made any progress yet. And not just because Molly and Avah called me out on it. I already know I’m letting down my friend. And myself.
“I made a promise to someone,” I say softly, resting my head on my knees for a moment before looking up again. “I’ve beenstudying that stupid playbook for two weeks, and I can’t seem to commit more than a couple lines to memory, or get through reading them aloud, even when I’m here alone. I might as well give up.”
Eric flips through the script. “The section you flagged is the audition piece?”
“I also have to sing.”
“Can you carry a tune?”
I nod. “I’m great at group karaoke, but I only do solo performances in the shower and my car.”
He flashes a satisfied smile. “We can work with that.”
“There’s nowe.”
“Yes, there is, Tinkerbell. Because I’m going to help you get this part and catch your man. In return, you’re going to work with my nephew.”
Uh, hell to the no. “I’m not making any kind of deal with you.”
He crooks that brow again. “Because you don’t want to help Rhett?”
How am I supposed to explain that I don’t want another reason to have this mountain of a man in my life? Not when I can’t seem to stop reacting to him.
I love working with kids. I love tutoring because it reminds me how much I wanted to be a teacher. Not that I don’t enjoy my work as a librarian, but I play small even with that. I haven’t been willing to take on additional responsibility or be more forward facing in the community because I can barely hold it together when I’m reading in front of kids. It’s pathetic, but I can’t seem to overcome my fears. And I have no intention of letting Eric Anderson see me like that.
“I’ll tutor Rhett, but I don’t want to make a deal becauseIdon’t needyourhelp.”
“I think you do,” he says and tosses the script in my direction.Before I can reach out to grab it, the script lands squarely at my side without touching me. He meant that to happen. Damn people with perfect coordination.
“I think you need my help with more than just your audition. If you want Bryan Connor to see you differently, you have tobedifferent.”
“Great, a makeover.” He sounds like my sister, who's always trying to get me to up my style game. “Is this the part where you tell me I need to lose weight and dye my hair?”
It’s a good thing I'm sitting down because my knees go weak as his dark gaze sweeps over me, lingering in a way that makes my skin burn. He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “fucking perfect,” then shakes his head and says, “You're a librarian smokeshow.”
“Not even close.” I roll my eyes, trying to ignore my racing pulse. “By literal definition, a smokeshow is someone so hot she has smoke coming off her. My friend Avah?—”
“I said what I said, Tink.” He leans down, his big arms caging me in as he rests his hands on the back of the couch. The air between us flickers with…if I didn’t know better, I’d call it desire. His face is inches from mine, close enough that I see the flecks of gold at the edges of his espresso colored eyes. Close enough that his breath fans across my cheek when he speaks.
“Butyouhave to believe you're a smokeshow. If you can't get there on your own, that's where I come in.” The promise in those words sends shivers down my spine. “I can make you believe.”
The promise in his words does something dangerous to my insides, and I have to fight not to close the last bit of distance between us. The offer is tempting. Everything about him is tempting. I’m sure there are a lot of ways Eric could get me there. Heat floods my cheeks as I imagine a few of them.
“I’d pay good money to know what you’re thinking right now.” His voice is rough, and heat pools between my legs in response.
“Most people pay cash for tutoring,” I say primly.
His mouth kicks up at one end. “I’m happy to pay you,” he assures me. “But I don’t want anyone to know about Rhett until you and I decide to get the school or his mom involved. You’re going to keep my secret, and I’m going to coach you. Not just on your fear and stage fright, but on how to catch the guy. Trust me.”
Trust him. It felt so tempting minutes ago, but right now it’s hard to put together a coherent thought. Eric’s freshly-showered scent, with the hint of something earthier underneath it, muddles my brain. Even the tangy smell of garlic on his breath does it for me.
I realize I’ve been staring at his mouth when he clears his throat. God, his lips are full and soft, and I bet they can do wicked things to a woman. I’ll readily admit I don’t know a lot about wicked, but his mouth makes me want to learn. I force my gaze up to his eyes. To my shock, his pupils are as dilated as mine must be.
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “I’ll definitely help Rhett, but I’llthinkabout the other part.”
“Don’t thinktoohard, Tinkerbell.” He straightens, his wide smile saying he knows exactly where my mind has gone. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t have to be there with him.” One of my favorite parts about Saturday morning reading hour is that we market it as a parents’ morning out. Normally it’s just the kids and me, which helps my nerves.
