Page 48 of Rugged Heart

sixteen

scarlett

Between time at the office and the upcoming gala, I’ve hardly had time to myself, let alone process what I should do about Kellen and Greyson. I’m about as confused as the Mad Hatter and have gratefully used the excuse of work to avoid thinking about it.

My phone skitters across my coffee table with a notification. It’s clear I can’t dodge Kellen any longer. Avoiding the TAG Center job site is easy, but his many texts? My sigh as I reply should speak volumes, but I shove it aside.

Geralt climbs into my lap, pressing his sweet paws into my thighs, kneading me and purring. I run my hands down his silky calico fur, smiling when his stormy gray eyes roll up to mine. “Kellen is a great guy. He makes me laugh, he’s nice, and he comes with a lot fewer complications. But, I might like hanging out with you more, buddy.”

He sneezes and curls his tail around his face, clearly dismissing me.

God, I know I sound pathetic but the quiet yet insistent stirring in my chest when I’m near Greyson terrifies me. Parts of me hopes Kellen can make it go away. I’ve lived in this safe bubble of existence, raising Theo with no expectations of anything more than friendship with his father. He’s never asked for more. I never knew he wanted more. Have I been this blind? So absorbed with myself and work and life to completely miss the signs? Have I tortured the poor man with my tales of disastrous dates? Am I that wishy-washy woman in the romance novels we all detest and hate? All these questions drive me insane with anxiety.

What if I’ve imagined the whole thing?

Life’s always thrown me curveballs and I can usually catch them and send them on their way. But this? I’m flailing. One accidental kiss and one night cradled in his arms, and my perfectly ordered world obliterates and I can’t collect all the pieces anymore.

* * *

The twinkle ofthe bookstore bell attached to the door fills me with content. Rows upon rows of books, arranged by genre, lure me with promises of great love affairs and swoony brick-house men. I’m already halfway to the romance aisle before I remember I’m not here alone.

Oops.

“I take it you read a lot?” Kellen asks as he picks up a small hand basket next to the door.

“Every chance I get in between work and… well, work.”

Books A Latte houses the biggest collection of indie authors between all the neighboring towns and when Grey first brought me here, he set a timer because he knew I’d spend all afternoon smelling the spines, tossing back the vanilla biscotti cappuccinos, and forgetting all about the life we had to attend to in the real world.

Kellen nods and follows behind me like a dutiful child as I browse a new series, grunting every time I plunk a different book on top of another in the basket.

“Do you read?” I grin when I pass the pile of hyped books from social media and spy one I haven’t read yet.

“Mostly history. I like battles and wars, stuff like that. Usually, I read to put me to sleep, though.”

He laughs at his attempted joke, and I pretend to yawn before steering us down the history aisle. “I’m just teasing. Reading anything is wonderful. You find one while I go pay for these and then we can hunker down for a bit and read. How does that sound?” I scan his bewildered face and backtrack. “Or not. Yeah, that’s a boring date. Sorry, never mind.”

“It’s fine, Scarlett. I don’t mind watching you while you read. You’re cute,” he drawls out.

You’d think I’d blush after that comment, but it does nothing. Not even when he takes my basket up to the register and snags one of my favorite little sprinkled cakes, wrapped up neatly next to the hanging bookmarks.

What is wrong with me? This stunner of a man is paying for my books, mind you, and somehow sniffed out those chocolate cakes are my favorite, yet I can’t even yield a damn blush or a tingle in my belly? I think I’m broken, a cog loose or a stalled gear.

We’ve settled in some chairs near the windows when he asks, “Does Greyson like to read?”

I absentmindedly answer while I’m sucked into this prologue.Sex on the first page? Sign me up.

“He does. Didn’t used to, but I wielded my charm, and he finally took up books with me. Don’t let him fool you. He will deny to anyone, including the Pope, that romance tears him up just as much as the next person.”

“He reads romance novels with you?”

I pop my head up from the page to the weird expression on his face. “Yeah, why? Is that a problem?”

“No, he doesn’t seem the type to read about mushy stuff.” He flicks through his phone, not masking his irritated tone.

I roll my eyes, annoyance buzzing under my skin. “I’m positive he only reads the sex scenes to claim it as research. Perhaps if more men read them, we wouldn’t have them floating around confused about where the clit is.”

Kellen’s forest hues grow wide as he looks up over his phone, and I slap a hand over my mouth.

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