Page 68 of Book and Ladder
“Fine!” I say, nose running, mouth burning, tongue numb.
Suddenly his eyes are inches from mine. Fierce. Stubborn. And stupidly handsome. My lips tingle from being this close to his, which is absurd. It’s the chili, obviously—this heat crawling down my throat, setting off every nerve ending. I’m not thinking about Patrick’s mouth. Not that pouty full bottom lip—at all. Not even when the crowd erupts into whoops and catcalls as if Patrick and I are about to kiss in the middle of the town square.
I suck in milk like my life depends on it, which, for therecord, I’m pretty sure it does. If anyone thinks the hammering of my heart has anything to do with Patrick O’Connell, they’re absolutely, one-hundred percent delusional.
Chapter 20
Daisy
Dating is grocery shopping:
you know what you should be looking for,
but all bets are off when you
see something delicious and bad for you.
~ Unknown
I wakewith memories of the chili cook-off flitting through my brain. And the wisp of a dream. Patrick. Staring into my eyes. Two straws in a cup between us. His lips hover just there. Then the cup disappears like mist. He smiles before kissing me softly, drawing me in, heat swirling between us.
I bolt out of bed as if it’s on fire!
In what world do I dream of kissing the enemy?
I practically dash to the shower, turning on the tap in hopes the water will wash me clean of the memories of that insane dream. Who am I kidding? Forget a shower—I need an exorcism!
On the way into work I’m still rattled. I crank the radio and belt out the lyrics.
I know just what I need to purge myself of all insanityabout my infuriating neighbor. I park in the lot and stride right to my office. Popping the door open with more force than necessary, I settle into my office chair and power my desktop computer to life.
Is this what my life has been reduced to? Going weak in the knees over the thought of a DM from a man who I don’t even know in real life? I sigh. Yes. I am pathetic. There’s no DM, so I click over to my emails. All thoughts of chili and dreams I shouldn’t be dreaming disappear when I see his name in the sender column. I click the email too eagerly:
Dear M&M,
I don’t even know if you like pineapple on pizza. That’s a pretty significant detail in a friendship, don’t you agree? Do you run indoors at the first sign of rain, or step out the door just to smell that indescribable smell and watch the raindrops fall … Does it rain often where you live? My town gets a decent amount of rain.
And I’m obviously typing this late at night when my brain is in that unfiltered state. Forgive me for rambling. For some reason, I know you will.
I had a full day and now I’m home—in the quiet that is the other half of my life.
I’m thinking of this cabin I’ve rentedon vacations over the years. Sometimes I’ve taken a group of guys there. Other times I’ve gone alone. It’s peaceful … fire glowing in the hearth, no schedule for the days I’m there, a stack of books to keep me company and trails to run or hike when I want to get out into nature.
Do you have a place like that in your life?
Okay. I’d better quit before I really ramble and say something I’ll regret.
- BTTP
Winona’s with a customer at the counter—their voices carry through the office door—so I click the browser shut. I’ll answer BTTP later. This is by far his most non-bookish email or DM ever. What does it mean? We’re still not going to meet face-to-face. He’s made it clear how deeply he needs his anonymity. What if we met up and things went south? He can’t risk that. His podcast is on the line.
Even with that awareness, throughout the day I picture him in that cabin he mentioned in his email, relaxing by the fire with a book. And the smile on my face returns. It remains so unnaturally full that Winona confronts me as soon as we have a lull between customers.
“What’s wrong?” Her brow scrunches, eyes narrowing. She pops her hands on her hips while she scrutinizes me.
“What do you mean,What’s wrong? Nothing’s wrong … I mean, unless you factor in our monthly sales and the fact that the O’Connell family is playing a game of Monopoly and they just landed on the square next to mine.” Still, I smile.
“But you’re smiling.” She squints and her lips thin.
