Page 9 of Dumbstruck
“Hate to break it to you, Harper, but this is twice now that you’ve approachedme. I don’t think I can carry the blame here.” I’m not reading too much into things, am I? If she really hated me, she’d simply avoid me.
June huffs and folds her arms, shifting so she’s standing shoulder to shoulder with me. She doesn’t have to stand so close, but her arm is nearly touching mine. “I wanted to see what the commotion was all about.”
“Well, now you’ve seen.” And I wish I could do something about said commotion. Bonnie doesn’t deserve to be stuck thirty feet in the air. Forty? It’s high. But I’m stuck as a spectator, which means there’s not much I can do but study the woman next to me who seems so determined to be cold and distant but is choosing to hang around.
Right as I’m about to open my mouth, someone calls out June’s name.
She turns, eyebrows lifting in surprise, and takes a few steps forward. “Hank!”
The author. I’m not sure I like this guy.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “Someone said Bonnie is stuck up there.”
“It was a malfunction,” I say, matching June’s steps so we’re standing next to each other again. “They’re working on getting her down.”
Hank narrows his eyes as he looks at me. We haven’t officially met, though we talked the other day, and he seems as wary of me as I am of him. Granted, he’s the one who told me I had my character all wrong, so I’m guessing he doesn’t have a high opinion of me at the moment. In my defense, I read his entire book over the last few days—stayed up later than I should have to get to the end—and am halfway through the next book because his storytelling is compelling.
“Has anyone been able to talk to her?” Hank asks June.
Once more, I’m the one who answers because June just got here. “Her assistant has been shouting at her.”
Hank frowns at me and once more talks to June. “That must be awful for her. June, do you still have those walkie talkies?”
“Oh! Good idea. Let me go grab them.”
I don’t want to stand here and be judged by the author, so I follow June, something she doesn’t realize until I grab the open door of the hardware store as she’s stepping inside.
“I don’t need your help, Jonah James,” she says as she rounds the front desk to the other side.
“Do you always call people by their full names?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes as she digs in a drawer. “When they are egotistical and self-important celebrities, yeah.”
“Huh. Tell me if you meet one of those because they sound awful.”
It’s a small victory, but she smiles, shaking her head as if she can’t believe I broke her hard shell with that one. She pulls out a couple of walkie talkies and fiddles with the knobs and buttons. “You are something else, James.”
“That’s what I hear. How can I help?”
Her eyes jump to me, and the surprise in her expression hits me square in the chest. Or maybe it’s the way she is making eye contact for longer than half a second. Last night was our longest conversation so far, but most of the time she avoided looking at me. Still haven’t decided if that was because she liked what she saw or didn’t, but I’m hoping for interest rather than disgust.
I put in a lot of work to look this good, and it might wound the ego if she doesn’t appreciate the effort.
“You…want to help?” she asks, as if nothing in the world could be more surprising to her.
Either I made a horrible first impression, or she’s generally not fond of people she doesn’t know. Choosing to ignore the hurt that comes from her unspoken judgment, I nod. “It may come as a shock, but I do want to make sure my costar is okay.”
“Oh. Right. Well, there are some batteries on the wall in that back corner. Double A. We need four of them.”
“On it.” I remember seeing the array of batteries when I was here the first time, so it doesn’t take long for me to grab a pack and bring it back to her. Though I offer the package, I pull it out of her reach when she tries to grab it. “For a price.”
June sighs heavily. “You’re going to make me pay for my own batteries?”
“Yep. With a date.”
Her whole expression drops, like she’s so surprised that I would suggest something like that that she has no idea how to react. “A date?”
“With me,” I confirm. “Lunch, specifically, unless you’ve already taken your break today.” This time, I set the batteries in her outstretched hand but hold on to them. It’s not quite holding hands, but this is closer than I’ve gotten to her so far. There’s some skin-to-skin contact going on.
