Page 18 of Just My Type
I huff out a laugh. “Sorry, I just thought it would be harder to get you to agree. I had, like, a ten-point plan and a whole itinerary mapped out. I almost made a PowerPoint presentation, and I was even prepared to beg.”
“I don’t know,” Hannah says consideringly. “I think maybe I would like to see that presentation. And you begging on yourknees would definitely be a sight to see.” Hannah’s face flushes bright red at the exact same time as all the blood in my body rushes to my dick at the thought of being on my knees in front of Hannah.
Very, very poor timing.
“I didn’t mean like that,” she says quickly.
I toss her a wink. “You know, I’m surprised a romance writer gets so embarrassed about an accidental sexual innuendo. I thought you were all made of sterner stuff than that. Like, the kinds of people who can write the filthiest smut in the middle of a crowded coffee shop without even blinking.”
Hannah laughs. “Once I wrote a full-blown mutual masturbation scene sitting in the middle seat on a crowded airplane. And then there was the time I was on a deadline and had to write a spicy scene at the car dealership, waiting for an oil change. I think that one involved ass play.”
“The one with the vibrator in book one or the one in the hot tub from book five?” The question slips out, and I mega wish I could shovel the words right back in. Damn my extreme lack of filter.
“Well, well, well.” Hannah eyes me, her lips curving into a smirk. “That sounds like a whole lot more thanI’ve skimmed one or two of them, now, doesn’t it?”
“I just read the spicy scenes,” I say with a grin, hoping she buys it. The way her smirk turns sly tells me she doesn’t, but she doesn’t press the issue, which has relief coursing through me. I’m not embarrassed to read romance. I fucking love romance. I think the world would be way better off if everyone read romance, especially men. But telling her I read romance will lead to her asking me how I got into romance. The only answer I have is that three years ago her asshole ex-boyfriend mentioned herromance writing hobby, and I was curious about her writing specifically. It all kind of spiraled from there. But I think she’s not ready to hear all of that, so I’m even more relieved when Hannah changes the subject.
“So, what’s the work schedule like for an almost residency graduate?”
I wink at her, reaching over and grabbing another donut from the box because they’re there, and why the fuck not? “You curious about me, Han?”
She blows a raspberry, making me laugh. “Nah, I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“You don’t have to try to do anything. This is a conversation. Has been for more than an hour already.”
“It hasn’t been an hour.”
I reach into my pocket and click on my phone, flashing it at her. “Sure has.”
She glances at the phone and then back up at me, surprise on her face. “Hasn’t felt like an hour.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“I meant it seems like you’ve been here forever. I was just wondering when you were going to get the hell out and leave me to my day.” Her eyes snap up to mine, like she’s checking my reaction to her snark. Fuck, I hate her ex-boyfriend more with every passing second.
I give her a lazy grin. “Gorgeous, that is the most obvious lie I’ve ever heard. This is the most fun morning you’ve ever had.”
It’s definitely the most fun morning I’ve ever had. My brain is already making a list of things we can do today if I can convince her to hang with me until I have to be at the hospital later tonight. I assumed I would come here and make my proposal and have to give her the hard sell until she said yes, and then I would leave. Her agreeing so easily and us having the best conversation of my life wasn’t on my bingo card for today, and no part of me wants to leave her.
“I can assure you it’s not.”
I glance at the half empty donut box and her empty coffee cup, then back up at her with a smile. “Keep telling yourself that. So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
Hannah lets out a heavy sigh. “Probably to sit at my desk andstare at my laptop, willing my brain to make words. Then I’ll go on social media for a while and deal with an inbox full of messages from people asking me when my next book is coming out.”
I make a face because, gross. “I have to be honest, Han. That sounds pretty fucking terrible.”
“You’re telling me,” she mumbles.
She sounds so miserable, I decide to shoot my shot. “Can I interest you in alternative plans?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asks immediately, and I mentally cheer because I know I have her.
“I was considering kidnapping Elliot’s dog, stopping by a coffee shop and getting her a pup cup, and then walking through the Commons. Maybe paying a visit to the ducks.”
“Like, in the pond?”
“I mean, we could, but I was talking about the statues. You know,Make Way for Ducklings?”
