Page 33 of Someone to Have
She bites down on her lower lip, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out to trace my thumb across her full mouth, soothing that pink and angry spot.
“I was trying to rehearse for the audition.” She takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair. “I promised my friends I’d go through with it and don’t want to disappoint them. But I’m not sure I can go through with it.”
“Why does it matter to your friends?”
Her smile wobbles on one end. “We’re all in a book club together. The Cool Girls Book Club.”
“Original name.”
“I know,” she agrees, her smile relaxing a touch. “Our friend who founded it, Sloane, owns the bookstore in town. She also has cancer.”
“That’s rough,” I murmur.
“It’s beenveryrough. She’s been in a hospital in Nashville since before the holidays because of complications with her treatment.” The worry in Taylor’s voice makes my heart hurt for her. “She asked each of us to take part in a bucket list challenge right after she was diagnosed last summer.”
“Like that ice bucket challenge?” I remember the viralfundraiser where celebrities and regular people had buckets of icy water dumped over their heads to raise money for ALS research.
Taylor laughs softly. “If only it were that easy. We each have to pick an activity that challenges us on a soul-deep level.”
“That sounds awful.” I mock shudder. “I try to only do things I know I’ll be good at. Other than looking after a teenage boy.”
“You’re doing okay,” she assures me, and I want to believe her.
“So your audition is not just about the play and Bryan Connor? You’re doing it because of a bucket list?”
“I want to get over my stage fright.” Her teeth snag on her bottom lip again.
I can’t help reaching across the table and touch my thumb to her mouth. “You’ve got to stop abusing this sweet lip, Tinkerbell. It’s killing me.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. Her pupils dilate, making her eyes look even larger than normal.
“I don’t think I can do it,” she whispers.
“You can. I told you I’d help, and I meant it.”
She pulls away and rolls her lips together. “I told my friends I hired a confidence coach.” Her cheeks flame at the admission.
Something that feels remarkably like purpose shoots through me at her words.
“Oh yeah.” I push back from the table and jab a fist in the air. “I’m going to rock this confidence coach game.”
She unwraps the brownie and shakes her head. “You certainly aren’t lacking confidence.”
“Like I said before sweetheart, trust me on this. You’ve come to the right place.”
“You came to me.”
I ignore that pesky fact as I pat myself on the chest. “I’m a man who knows confidence. I embody confidence.”
She sniffs, and it’s hard to tell whether she’s annoyed or amused by my certainty. Maybe both. “Other than where your nephew is concerned,” she points out.
Touché. “That’s why this deal is perfect. You’re helping me with Rhett, and I’m going to help you with everything else.”
She holds up a hand. “I don’t need help witheverything.”
“Uh…yeah, you do.” I ignore the glare she shoots me. “You’re going to knock ’em dead or break a leg or whatever the hell theater people do. A bit of effort on my part, and you’ll be confident on the stage. But I can give you more, Tink. You’ll be confident in every situation you encounter. Every moment. Hell, I can make you confident in the bedroom.”
She chokes on her brownie bite. “Whoa, there, Mr. Tinder. I didn’t ask you for bedroom coaching.”
