Page 3 of The Best Book Boyfriend
I was lost in my book, fully swept along by my latest Book Boyfriend, when I heard someone ask, “What are you reading?”
I looked up to see a man clearing cups from the next table. He wasn’t the guy who served me and I didn’t see him when I came in but he was wearing a dark red checked shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, which immediately made me think of Aiden, inGot Wood?one of my favourite books.
That’s the one where a rugged lumberjack conceals his loneliness by being grumpy with everyone he meets. Then Hailey, a smart-ass city chick who’s just inherited a run-down cabin, turns up to melt his icy heart. Five very hot stars from me.
“Um, it’s calledYours For The Night.”I held it up to show him the front and immediately wished I hadn’t. It’s a classic romance cover, a faceless woman in a flowing dress embraced in the arms of a topless man with huge pecs.
He stifled a laugh. “Any good?”
“Er, yeah, it is actually.” At least it was until I was interrupted. I was just getting to a steamy bit, so I turned back to my page.
“What’s it about?” he interrupted again.Was this guy for real?
I sighed. “It’s about two best friends who decide to have a one-night stand to get them through a dry spell.” I tried not to laugh at how awkward that was to explain to a stranger.
“Let me guess,” he said, with more than a hint of sarcasm, “they end up together?”
“Well, I’m only halfway through, and they still haven’t actually hooked up, but yes, that’s the happy ever after guarantee.”
“Ah, romance books,” he scoffed, “where everyone is always beautiful, all their dreams come true, and nothing bad ever happens.”
What the fuck was this guy’s problem?I sat up taller, feeling defensive. “Well, that’s not true. They often have a lot to overcome on their way to the happy ending.”
“I guess I’m not really the romance book type,” he shrugged, eyes cast down to the floor.
“Do you grill all your customers about their literary choices?”
“Only the pretty ones,” he said, and when he looked up to catch my eye, I gasped so loudly he took a step back, his hands held out in front of him. “Sorry, that was very inappropriate. I’m so, so sorry, I’ll leave you be.”
Only the pretty ones. Me?
My cheeks burned. They must have surely gone bright red. I watched him walk away and turned back to my book, but when I reached the end of the page, I realised I’d not taken in a single word. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him, busy behind the counter, serving other customers. I watched him, subtly, I hope, and then snapped my gaze back to my book when he headed my way again.
I was making a mental note to never go back there again when he surprised me completely and placed a fresh latte down on my table. I looked down and noticed the foam poured into the shape of two hearts.
“This one’s on the house,” he said. “I’m sorry again. I really didn’t intend to offend you.” Well, that was unexpected, and rather good customer service, actually.
“Thank you,” I said, staring up at him. He looked like he meant it, and didn’t move to say anything else. When he reached across me to take my first, now empty, cup I noticed an intricate line-drawn tattoo on the inside of his forearm. Histonedforearm, lightly tanned with a smattering of soft hair. “It’s OK. Romance is a very misjudged genre. You’re not the first guy to be completely wrong about it, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” I pressed my mouth into a tight pout and cocked my head to one side.
“Tell me how I’m wrong.”
I frowned at him, taking in his features one by one. Tall, with broad shoulders, his light brown hair had soft waves styled away from his face, though I was particularly drawn to one bit flopping over his eyebrow that I wanted to reach out and push back. His glasses suited him so well, but behind them I could see gorgeous brown eyes that I felt like I’d already stared into before. He smiled a warm smile, the kind where you can see his tongue just peeking out from behind perfect teeth. I somehow knew in that moment that he could tell me a thousand stories and I’d want to hear a thousand more.
“Well, um, people… people like you,” I narrowed my eyes in a mock glare, despite how flustered I actually felt, “they often think romance novels are predictable, but nobody throws the same criticism at crime novels. A lot of fantasy and sci-fi books are predictable. They follow similar structures just set in different worlds.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Fair point.”
“People are snobby about it because most romance writers are women, so they think they’re easy reads, but it’s not easy to move people and make them fall in love with your characters. These books can take you all over the world, you can meet so many kinds of people, they’re pure escapism. They’re fun.” I folded my arms across my chest, confident I’d won this debate, which as far as I was concerned had no counter-argument. “You could be having the time of your life if you weren’t so judgy. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“OK, so give me a recommendation.”
“Excuse me?”
“Recommend a book that will change my mind,” he said.Shit.Where to even begin. I just stared at him and he stared at me and I felt like neither of us would back down first.
“I’ll have to have a think,” I scowled.
“OK,” he said brightly, turning to walk away. “I’ll come back in a minute.”
