Page 195 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

But my good intentions fly out the window when I enter the bookstore, and Malcolm smiles at me. Urrggh, dimples. Of course, he has dimples.

“Good morning, Caleb.” Malcolm’s welcoming smile melts over me like one of those chocolate fountain things.

“You too.”

I cringe. So much for leaving the awkward behind, but Malcolm’s soft laugh sets me at ease.

“Do you need to return to the coffee shop quickly, or can you stay for a bit?”

He raises the cup and inhales. “This smells delicious. Thank you. I’m a slut for a mocha latte.”

Maybe it’s the way he says the word slut, or maybe it’s the way he looks over the lid at me, but I’m willing to be whatever kind of slut he wants.

Is it hot in here?

“I can make them whenever you want. Just, ah, let me know and I’ll run one over.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” He motions to a chair behind the counter. “Would you like to sit while we talk?”

“Sure.” I sit in the chair while he settles on a tall stool. “So… you mentioned the maplefest party? That’s what you want to do tomorrow?”

“Is that okay? We could go for the dinner and maybe wander the pop-up shops first or stay for the party after if you’d like. What do you prefer?”

Malcolm doesn’t give me partier vibes. I bet he prefers to stay home and watch jeopardy with his cat.

“Do you have a cat?”

He huffs a cute laugh and smiles again.

Lord, those dimples are disarming.

“I do. He’s black and his name is Screech.”

Bingo. I knew he’d be a cat guy.

“Screech for the guy on Saved by the Bell?”

Malcolm throws his head back and dear god, I have a thing for throats as well as dimples it seems. His neck is slender and when he laughs, his Adam’s apple bobs. His dimples pop even more and I’m sucked into the orbit of all things sexy Malcolm.

“No, I named him for the rum. Newfoundland Screech. It’s the smoothest rum I’ve ever tasted. I named him Screech because he was smooth. Meowing outside and walking into my apartment with me like he was meant to be there.”

“A stray made himself at home with you, then?”

A lopsided smile beams my way. “Something like that.” He sets his coffee down and swivels the seat on his stool, side to side. I wonder if he’s nervous because he seems cool and calm on the outside. I’m definitely not that.

“Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow? I could meet Screech and we could go to the party and after that…” I shrug. My heartbeat must be noticeable through my t-shirt, it’s hammering so hard. Never have I rolled off such a bold statement to someone I’m interested in and not stumbled over the words.

Malcolm reaches for a pen and a scrap piece of paper and scribbles on it before passing it to me.

“Would 5 P.M. work? I’m closing the store at 2 P.M. since everyone will be down at the street vendors. I don’t expect much business. What about you?”

“Oh, ah, I’m closed by 3 P.M. Until I get night staff, we don’t stay open that long. Morning crowd is my bread and butter.”

Malcolm wants to say something, but notices a woman entering the store.

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles.

“Is something wrong?”

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