Page 30 of Beautiful Beast

“I guess we have a difference of opinion.”

She rolls her pretty eyes. “What else is new?”

“We better not have any casserole. You’ll probably count that as a second date.”

“I like how you think.” She balances the books in one arm and pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Itisgetting late, though, and I have to be at work early tomorrow. I wasn’t expecting it to take so long for you to let us in. So, you’ll have to eat alone, and we’ll save date two for tomorrow.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow,” I say.

Trying not to smile at her energy is a Herculean effort and, goddamn, she’s sexy with her stack of books.

“You said I could come back any time,” Belle reminds me.

“To get more books,” I repeat. “You have a big enough pile there to keep you busy for the next six months.”

She snorts. “Shows how well you know me. These will be done by the weekend.”

“Bookish Belle.”

“See you tomorrow, Annoying Adam.”

“Tomorrow is Friday. Don’t you have plans with your friends or something?”

She shrugs. “I don’t go out much. I like reading and being home with my dog.”

Stereotypes are a dangerous thing. Based on looks alone, most people would assume that a girl as beautiful as Belle had dates lined up around several city blocks, dying to take her out and show her off.

But it sounds like she’s a total homebody who could care less about the party scene.

Avoiding unnecessary drama is one reason I’d never date someone so much younger than me. She would have completely different hobbies and interests. And I could care less about checking out the latest club or dancing the night away.

But Belle is an old soul.

“You’re the least exciting young person I know,” I tease.

“And you’re the most obstinate old person I know.”

We make our way back downstairs, Buster close on our heels. When we get to the bottom, I crouch down to pet him, and he gets so excited that his entire body wags right along with his little stub tail.

“You would make a terrible boyfriend,” Belle notes.

“Good thing I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t want you to be. You’re rude, stubborn, and just generally miserable.”

“And yet…”

“Hot AF, remember?”

I stand to my full height and stare down at her with an eyebrow raised. “So, you just want to fuck me then.”

Her eyes widen to saucer proportions, and she nearly drops the books, grabbing hold of them just before they hit the floor.

I reach out to steady her, and she quickly straightens the stack, pulling them closer to her chest like a shield.

“You wish,” she returns, but her voice is awfully shaky.

She most definitely does want it – and me.

---