Page 50 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
I hold up my phone, even though that doesn’t tell him anything unless he wants to start reading to get the gist. “It’s calledFalling for the Single Dad Ex-Marine Cowboy Next Door,” I tell him.
“A romance,” he guesses, and that word seems to taste terrible with the way he spits it out. “Why do you read that stuff?
“What do you mean bystuff?”
“Romance. Fantasy.”
“This isn’t fantasy.”
“It’s a romance? Then it’s fantasy. No man is really like that.”
Oh, so he’s going to be one of those people who thinks love stories aren’t real works of literature? “Have you even read a romance?” I ask, sitting up and twisting to face him. “Wait, you don’t have to answer that because I know you haven’t. You probably think they’re all bodice rippers and alpha male love triangles.”
He pulls his thick eyebrows together. “I don’t understand anything you just said. But it sounds ridiculous. And like a waste of time.”
Kenny snorts a laugh, reminding me that he’s still here. “Bad move,” he mutters without looking up from his phone.
Kenny is totally right, and it’s time to do some schooling. He may be older than me, but that doesn’t mean Fischer is smarter. I put my hand on his chest—hello, pecs—to emphasize my point. “These books are more than just love stories, Fischer. They’re about growth, and acceptance, and finding a person who makes you want to be better.”
Either he thinks I’m talking nonsense or he doesn’t have an argument, but Fischer goes quiet. Whatever he’s thinking about, his heart rate has spiked, and I wish I knew what that meant. His face, as always, is giving me nothing.
“Do you have any idea how relatable ‘this stuff’ can be?” I ask him, knowing he doesn’t. “Do you have any idea how many people just want a little hope that there’s still a chance for them to find love? If the quirky heroine who is socially awkward and talks more to her bad-mouthed parrot than to other people because she’s terrified of being judged can find a gruff but handsome millionaire cowboy with a cinnamon roll center, then maybe I can find a decent guy who thinks I’m more than just a good time when he’s bored. Maybe I can still believe that there are good people in the world who work to make each other’s lives better. Maybe I like knowing that I’m going to find a happy ending in each of these books because I’m not sure if I’m going to find my own.”
Oops. I may have gotten a teensy bit animated by the end there, raising my voice and poking Fischer’s well-formed chest. I tuck my hands into my lap and bite my bottom lip, curious about how he’s going to respond to my little tirade.
His eyes, as dark as ever, seem to pierce me in a way nothing ever has, and yet his gaze is so soft. It’s almost like he’s seeing me for the first time. And when he reaches up and tucks some hair behind my ear, his touch sends a shiver through me. “I’m sorry,” he says in a way that tells me he means it. “I’ve never had room in my life for things like sitcoms and love stories, and I forget that not everyone has lived a life as cold as mine. I don’t know what to do with warmth on those rare occasions that I find it.”
I try to imagine a life without warmth, but I can’t do it. “Poor, poor Fischer,” I murmur, brushing my fingers through his hair. “How have you survived all this time without me?”
There’s that half smile again, the one that might be the death of me. I don’t know how, but this crooked grin might be better than his full smile. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fischer
Things are going well? Yes,that’s a question. I’m honestly on the verge of panicking because the last few hours have been some of my best in a long time. Maybe in my life. I’ve moved from scared to touch Micah to practically holding her in my arms, and she seems to like being there. At least, she hasn’t moved since our conversation about her book, so I have to assume she’s content if nothing else.
When my phone stopped being interesting, I started reading her book along with her even though she reads a lot faster than I do. I catch enough to get the basic idea. And though I still think parts of it are ridiculous, I love the way Micah dives headfirst into the story. Honestly, she’s more entertaining than the book is, and every sigh and laugh and barely concealed squeal make me wonder what I’m missing.
Regardless, I can’t think of a better way to spend a snowy evening than cuddled up with Micah while she escapes into a world that makes her happy.
I can almost imagine a future like this, and that’s dangerous.
“Excuse me?”
Micah yelps at the same time I grab her to protect her from whoever just snuck up behind us. I crane my neck over my shoulder while I crush her to my chest, glaring at the man standing halfway across the lobby.
“Who are you?” I growl. “How did you get in here?”
Frowning, he points behind him. “The door was unlocked? Are you not open?”
“Do we look like we’re open?”
Micah wiggles herself free from my hold and scrambles to her feet, putting on her winning smile. “We can be open if we need to be. How did you get here?”
He points again, only this time the door behind him opens, and a couple dozen people start filing into the lodge in a flurry of snow. “The bus got stuck in the snow down the road, and someone saw lights. This place was an answer to a lot of prayers. We thought we were gonna freeze to death out there.”
I curse under my breath as I take in the families huddled together. One lady carries a baby. None of them look dressed for the weather, and all of them look terrified.
