Page 118 of Can't Help Falling

I fish around in my purse for my keys thinking about the movie Hitch and how this is me signaling to him that I want him to kiss me.

He wouldn’t even have to go the ninety percent. I’d go the whole hundred.

And even though I absolutely would not be opposed to that, this really is just me forgetting that I need keys to drive my car home. Still, just the stray thought is enough to light my cheeks on fire.

“Thanks.” I pull my keys out in a eureka fashion and unlock my car. I’m about to leave, but in a rare stroke of boldness, I turn back. “You should put yourself back on the market.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I bet there’s someone out there who could make you really happy.”

“Someone practical?” he asks.

I smile. “Or someone romantic.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emmy

Did I just flirt?

That was too much. Too close. Too many feelings.

I’m halfway home, and I still feel the nervous energy bubbling inside of me.

Everything about my friendship with Owen is starting to take a turn in a different, familiar direction. If history is any kind of a teacher, I can’t let myself get swept away in the idea of him again. I just can’t.

Getting humiliated by expressing my feelings for him once was bad enough—if I do it again, I may as well check into that special kind of hospital with the padded walls.

Plus, Mack’s right. I’m too picky. Maybe she doesn’t realize it, but that’s not the reason I’m holding out for someone as hopelessly romantic as me—not entirely.

The main reason is I haven’t met anyone who makes me feel the way Owen does.

Er, did.

Continues to do.

I don’t think there’s a tense for something that has happened, continues to happen, and probably will happen in the future.

Maybe I need to broaden my horizons.

Sow some royal oats.

Leave the house.

What if Practical in Poughkeepsie was onto something with his whole idea of what’s really important? What if I’ve been waiting for a lightning bolt when what I really needed was a cozy electric blanket that I could turn on with the flip of a switch?

Maybe someone like Chad Rober.

Maybe he’s exactly who I need.

Smart. Stable. Dependable.

Is that bad?

Maybe I’ve been holding out for something that doesn’t even exist beyond the page.

Never mind that even the briefest eye contact with Owen makes me feel like I’m sitting in a sauna.

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