Page 34 of The Fangirl and the Grump

It wasn’t because Ilikeher, or anything like that. She’s my little sister’s age, for Christ’s sake. Too young for me. And too annoying.

Another grunt escapes my lips with that thought. She’s not actually annoying. At all. I let my first encounter with her color every subsequent one, and I can honestly admit that’s a “me” problem. It’s not like she knew me or how much I hate being likened to Joseph Lumin. She was just excited. And a little drunk.

And when she spotted me at the bar, she liked what she saw.

If I’m being totally honest, my sense of pride and satisfaction overthatfact has been the driving force behind my annoyance with her since that night. I like that she liked what she saw when she looked at me. Too much.

Now that the fog of anger over her use of the nickname has lifted, I can see it for what it is now. I want her, and I know I shouldn’t. That I can’t have her.

That despite her obvious attraction to me––and she has made it pretty obvious––neither of us can give ourselves over to it. Besides the age difference being a problem, she doesn’t live here. She’s going to leave in a few weeks. She’ll go back to Seattle to pick up the pieces of her life, and chances are, I’ll never see her again.

And while I know there’s nothing wrong with a casual, short-term relationship, I’m not so sure I could go back to my normal, lone wolf existence once she leaves and takes her bright sunshine with her.

Ah, fuck. Now I’m doing it. All I need to do is add the “daddy” to that statement, and I’ve become everything I hate about this town and the tourists who flock here.

God damn it.

Even without giving over to every one of my carnal desires, I’m letting this curvy, gorgeous little thing influence me on levels even the people closest to me haven’t been able to do. What is it about her? She’s the lighthouse beacon I never knew I needed.

Do I really want to disappear back into the fog?

I lean my head back against the couch, close my eyes, and heave a loud sigh. Knowing I can’t, or at the very least,shouldn’thave her has lost its impact, entirely.

I want her.

There.

I admitted it. To myself, at least.

My phone chimes, and I find myself grinning when I see a text message from Keegan.

Keegan:Thanks again for today. It was really sweet of you. Why do you hide all that sugary goodness beneath such a gruff exterior? Inquiring minds want to know.

A laugh barks out of me as I read the text, and my smile remains as I type back.

Me:No sugar here. And if you try to tell people otherwise, I’ll deny it to the bitter end. I have a reputation to maintain, after all.

Keegan: Fine. I’ll keep your dirty little secret. My lips are sealed.

Me: Thank you.

Keegan: But you know nothing in this world is free…

Me: Are you trying to blackmail me?

Keegan: Of course, not! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?

Me: So sorry. My mistake.

Keegan: On the other hand, should you decide to offer me a boon for my silence, I wouldn’t be opposed.

Me: A boon? What is this, some historical romance novel?

Keegan: Funny your mind would go straight to romance. Do you have another secret you’d like to share? Maybe something about me?

Keegan: Kidding! I know you don’t see me that way. And don’t worry, just knowing about your gooey, mushy center is enough reward for me. I don’t need any extra boons.

She sends that last text while I’m still reading the one before it. My smile drops as I finish reading, then re-read her words.

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