Page 100 of Betting on You

“No.” I was rereadingDodging the Dukefor like the twentieth time in my life. “But I doubt it’s your jam.”

“Historical fiction?”

“Historicalromance,” I clarified.

“Porny?”

“Not really.”

“Then read it aloud.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Only if you read the duke’s lines.”

“Is he cool?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hot?”

“On fire.”

“Fine,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll do it.”

“Shut up.” I couldn’t believe it. “Seriously?”

“I’m only doing it because you were so confident that I wouldn’t. Can’t have you being right, can I?”

He scooched closer to me on the couch so we could both see the pages. I opened the book, caught him up to what was happening and where I’d left off, and then I started reading.

“?‘She smiled,’?” I read out loud. “?‘Her cheeks were pink as their eyes held, but surely it was only due to the warmth of the room.’?”

I looked up, and his dark eyes were doing that mischievous twinkling thing. He cleared his throat and said in a ridiculous British accent that made him sound like a chimney sweep fromMary Poppins, “?‘Miss Brenner, would you care to see the gardens?’?”

It started with giggles, and after another page of this, we were both cackling. Leave it to Charlie to make reading into a noisy,hilarious, absolutelynotrelaxing activity. It seemed like something Charlie would tire of quickly—one of his little games—but he actually got into the book.

We sat on that couch for a couple hours—literally—laughing and obnoxiously reading. And when Charlie got up to refill our coffees, I realized that he might’ve just given me the perfect date.

I mean, we weren’t on a date and it was morning, but if I read about this coffee shop excursionina book, I would be creating a whole Pinterest mood board on it because it was one of those kicking-and-screaming-into-my-pillow scenes in a book.

They’re reading together in a coffee shop!

I watched him pour a splash of cream into his Americano, and I wondered if Mr. Nothing was gone forever. Because when I looked at him now, I saw only my friend Charlie. He still confused the hell out of me, but he was nothing like the jerk I’d once thought him to be.

Weird how things could change so much in such a short time.

Maybe I needed to stop overthinking things with him, making rules and judgments about who he was, who I was, and who we were together. Because if I hadn’t rolled with Charlie’sshit happensexplanation of last night, we wouldn’t have had this perfect morning.

Shit happens.

He looked at me then, screwing his eyebrows together in aWhat is that weird expression you’re wearing all aboutface as he walked over with our coffees in his hands, and I didn’t even try to hold back the smile that took over my entire face.

Because I had a new motto. A new way of thinking.

Until we crossed the border and left Colorado behind, I wasn’t going to overthink anything. About Charlie, about my parents, about Zack… about anything. Every action that was going to happen, every word that was going to be said—all of it would now be attributed to shit happening.

And that would just be that.

Shit happened in Colorado.

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