Page 12 of Book Boyfriends
“Sure,” I sigh, breaking off a piece of scone.
“Still blocked?”
“I’m not blocked—” I sit up a little straighter. “I’m just…”
The half-hearted protest is the crumbling realization that this isn’t just a mere blip. For months, the words haven’t come. No matter the writing exercise. No matter the suggestions from fellow authors. It’s like the words are walled away from me.
With a head shake, I meet Hope’s eyes. “It’s just temporary. It will all be alright.”
Rem asks, “What will be alright?” Worry deepens the firm lines of his mouth as he emerges from the house with a large white sun hat in his hand.
“If I have a third scone!” I flick my wrist and then pluck another pastry off the tray.
The last thing I want to discuss in the presence of my older brother is my writing. He’ll have lots of opinions. Many that he’s already shared.
“That doesn’t go with your athletic leisure wear getup.” Hope gestures at the sun hat in his hand, a wry grin across her lovely face.
Bless my bestie.No words needed. She may champion that he just wants what’s best for me, but she’s witnessed enough brotherlyI know best, Georgialectures through the years.
Smirking, he looks down at his Anaheim Ducks T-shirt tucked into mesh shorts, his standard weekend attire. “I leave the fashion expertise to you, sweetheart. It’s for you.” he bends and presses a peck to her cheek. “The marine layer is almost burnt off.”
“If only our little ole’ female brains thought of some sort of sun shielding contraption,” I sass, waving at the large green umbrella that shades the table.
“Your little ole’ female brain I worry about”—he juts his chin toward me and then back at his wife—“Not hers.”
“Thanks, baby.” Hope takes the hat.
He sits beside her. “If you’re carb-loading, I take it last night’s blind date didn’t go well?”
I bite into my scone and say nothing.
“That well?” He chuckles.
“He double-dipped,” Hope offers as an explanation.
His nose wrinkles. “Please, tell me you were at least at Fisher’s Landing where cross-contamination wasn’t an issue.” His brown eyes, the same as mine, fix on me. “Are you feeling okay this morning? Should?—”
“Easy, Nagging Ned.” I raise my hand, palm up. “I know to always have my blind dates in food-safe venues.”
It’s a habit I started two years ago after a terrible date ended with me in bed the next day with the Niagara Falls of migraines. Thanks to my celiacs, any trace of gluten can cause a reaction. My body doesn’t process it, but revolts against it.While I experience my share of stomach cramping and nausea, migraines seem to be my body’s choice response.
As a kid, I was sick all the time. Rem often volunteered to stay home with me, so my parents, and then just mom after the divorce, didn’t have to take time off work. He’d sit by my bed, the curtains shrouding the room in darkness, and press a cold compress to my head or rub soothing circles on my back.
It wasn’t until I was twelve that doctors diagnosed me with celiac disease. Knowing helped me to manage things. There’s no pill to cure the condition, just an adherence to a gluten-free diet. As mindful as I am, sometimes that pesky gluten finds its way through kitchen cross-contamination or food mislabeling.
“This is the guy that Jackson set you up with?” he asks, tipping his head toward me.
More like the guy he bribed or blackmailed.Nodding, I take another bite, hiding my annoyed expression.
He shifts in his chair. “What’d he do? Do I need to?—”
“Would you leash your husband?” I groan, my gaze meeting Hope’s, her mouth drawn into a patient smile. “No big brother talking to needed. We just aren’t a good fit.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s a pickleball-playing finance bro.”
Even if Davis hadn’t spent half the date locked in on his phone nor the second half insulting me, we’re not an ideal match. Opposites attract may work in some cases. Like with Hope and Rem. She softens his edges, bringing out his sweeter side. He dotes on her. Rem may be overprotective, but he supports Hope with everything she does. The start of her business and now its expansion with their recent acquisition of a fourth truck.
