Page 22 of Lovesick
With my thoughts churning like a winter storm, I set my coffee down on a small table and reached for my laptop. It wasn’t there. That, too, had been lost in the crash. I let out a frustrated breath.
A nap would work wonders. With a shake of my head, I closed my curtains, crawled under my covers, and lay on my cool pillow. JJ lingered in the back of my mind like he’d taken up residence, even though I tried to evict him countless times. Thoughts of him intruded until I sighed in frustration.
Did he reallynotbelieve in romance?
Or know about Pinnable?
The man had been hiding for far too long. From what, though? Did it matter to me? No. Not necessarily. Except I hadn’t exactly gotten the most romantic ending to our time together. It was clear whatshouldhave happened.
The lovely, grief-stricken woman would be in dire circumstances that the love interest selflessly battled out with her, despite his own problems. After waiting out the storm and sparking undeniable chemistry with literal zips of electricity that skated through their blood, they just couldn’tbearto part, even if they didn’t understand it.
Even if it had only been five hours since they first met.
Obviously.
And that wassofar from what had happened.
JJ had some serious lessons to learn about romance, and I intended to teach him. In fact, I knew exactly how to do it. JJ was a man invested in logic, facts, and science. There was no woman who straddled those lines as well as me. Computer programmer obsessed with romance?
Oh, I wouldsogive him allthe data on romance.
With that promise ringing in my head, I shoved JJ far from my mind and dropped into a welcome sleep.
* * *
My eyelids drooped from exhaustion all the next day. After my nap, I’d spent time with Shane until midnight while Bethany slept. I just couldn’t let go of his downy skin and perfect little breaths. Totally worth it.
Thick piles of snow boxed in Main Street after the massive storm. Rafi, the middle-aged man who plowed every winter, had just scraped out our parking lot. Cars drove by every now and then, tires hissing on the icy street.
The temptation to turn on Christmas music nearly overwhelmed me, but Ellie and Devin would relieve me soon. Ellie, the perpetual scrooge, would glare me to pieces, then put on something dramatic like polka just to make a point.
My third cup of coffee steamed into my face as I peered over it at my friend, Leslie. She had frizzy blonde hair with dark roots, and a pair of wide-brim glasses. With her sophisticated, long black coat, she cut an impressive figure in the quaint little shop. Four kids and a husband kept her busy. We’d first connected when Bethany and I started the Frolicking Moose Book Club years ago.
“What genre is book club this month?” she asked, nose wrinkled.
I waggled my eyebrows. “Romance.”
She fake-gagged.
“Sounds like you need to get a little pizzazz back into your marriage, Les,” I said. “You always hate romance month.”
She stared at me as if I’d grown another head. One dark brow quirked. “You’re kidding.”
“What?” I cried. “Romance spices up everything. You’ve been down in the dumps for a while.”
“I’d rather buy a new garbage disposal.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious,” she deadpanned. “My sink keeps clogging. It’s driving me crazy. Have you ever had to plunge your sink with the same plunger you use in your bathroom because it’s the middle of the night? It’s not pretty.”
“Why were you doing dishes in the middle of the night?”
“Because that’s when I havetime.”
“C’mon. Romance helps you remember why you got married in the first place. No?”
“Not true.”
