Page 42 of Summer Reading

I stared at him.

“Okay, the good ones don’t judge.”

We held each other’s gaze. I sensed he wasn’t going to leave me in peace anytime soon.

“Fine, but this is not public information.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and gestured like he was zipping his lips shut. I nodded my head once. “All right, I like rom-coms. Happy?”

“I feel like I should have guessed that about you,”he said. “You give off such positive energy, it makes sense.”

Was that a compliment? It felt like a compliment, and my toes curled into the sand in pleasure.

“So, what are you planning to do with this top secret information?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said. He turned away and dug through the canvas bag he’d brought. He pulled out a large paperback book. It had a bright-pink-and-aqua-colored cover with illustrations of a man and woman and an airplane. Whatever.

“What part of ‘I have dyslexia’ do you not understand?” I sighed. Frustration was making me defensive and curt. Did he really think he could just hand me a rom-com, and I was going to be healed or something? Like all I needed was the right genre? Did he have any clue as to how much this pissed me off?

“Hush.” He looked me over again, as if memorizing the sight of me, from the tips of my Vixen red toenails to the brim of my floppy sun hat—oh my!His gaze was bold, taking in me, as if he was committing the sight of me wearing a bathing suit in my beach chair to memory. “This is how I flirt.”

Flirt?That shut me up. I tried to ignore the thrill that thrummed through me. He reached into his bag and handed me a sandwich wrapped in paper. “Tyler also said your favorite sandwich is a double-cream Brie and fig jam on lightly toasted sunflower honey loaf.”

He’d brought me a sandwich? Wait. Tyler knew what my favorite sandwich was? I wasn’t sure which of these things shocked and pleased me more.

If I hadn’t been absolutely starving, I’d have dropped the Brie and fig and kissed him full on the lips. Luckily hunger won out, keeping me from embarrassing myself. I ripped off the paper and took a bite. Delicious.

Ben reclined in his chair and put his water in the cup holder built into the armrest. He leaned back and said, “Just listen.”

“Fine, but only because you brought me a sandwich.” I didn’t want to look like a complete pushover. I took another bite and leaned back in my folding chair like a reluctant teenager.

“Chapter One,” he said. I glanced over at him. I opened my mouth to say I have no idea what because he raised his hand in a “stop” gesture and continued reading. “ ‘I’m getting married.’ ”

I hunkered lower in my seat, enjoying my perfectly toasted sandwich. I supposed I could listen for a page or two.

A seagull paced at the edge of a nearby blanket, obviously hoping I would share. I paid him no mind. A family of four played Frisbee in the surf nearby. I hardly noticed them. The sun inched across the sky, but as Ben read, I had no sense of time passing.

His voice enthralled me, weaving the story around me in such a way that I was there on the page, lookingat the world through the character’s eyes, seeing what she saw and feeling what she felt. He didn’t change voices when he read, there was no falsetto for the females, but he shifted his tone a little bit, just enough to indicate another person was talking. I laughed. I sighed. A workaholic woman was on her way to Europe to find the three men she’d once loved to see if she could remember how to be happy and in love again. I was completely invested in her journey.

A chime sounded right in the middle of his sentence. He shut off the alarm on his phone and closed the book.

“Wait!” I cried. “You can’t leave me hanging! She’s in Ireland and about to find ex-boyfriend number one.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t toss the book into the ocean,” he said.

“That was an accident,” I protested. Then I gasped. “Is this revenge?”

He laughed and then put his hand over his heart. “No, I would never.”

I watched in dismay as he put the book back in his bag.

“What are you trying to accomplish then?” I asked. I couldn’t believe how irked I was that story time was over and in the middle of a chapter! So rude!

“Nothing. I always read on my lunch hour, and I thought maybe you’d enjoy it, too.”

“So, youaretrying to fix me,” I accused.

“That makes it sound as if I think you’re broken,” he said. His gaze was as true as the tide. “But I don’t think that. Not at all.”

The sincerity in his voice forced me to correct him. I didn’t want him to think more highly of me than I deserved.

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