Page 40 of The Book Club Boyfriend
After a moment, he shifts and glances at me. “So, let me get this straight.” His lips tilt just slightly. “You hate romance, but your favorite childhood memory is a summer where your parents were blissfully in love?”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s not—”
“You hate relationships, but you wrotefourbestselling books about them?”
“That’s different.”
“You sure?”
I huff and push off the counter. “You were doing so well at being tolerable. Let’s not ruin it now.”
Chase grins, watching me go.
But even as I retreat to the guest room and climb back into the annoyingly comfortable bed, I can’t shake the feeling that something shifted tonight.
Because for the first time since meeting him…
I don’ttotallyhate Chase Remington.
Chapter Thirteen
Pancakes & Self-Care
Chase
It’s late—almost midnight—and Rip is taking his sweet time sniffing around the bushes, deciding where to relieve himself before we call it a night. The air is cool, and the lake is still.
I glance to my left and see the lights are still on at Scarlett’s house.
Through her window, I see her sitting at the dining table, her laptop open in front of her.
I lean against the porch railing, arms crossed as Rip does his thing. She’s completely still, staring at the screen, and for a moment, I think—oh, she’s up late writing. But then I look closer.
She’s not writing.
She’scrying.
A deep, aching kind of crying—the kind that happens when you’re alone and don’t thinkanyone’s watching.
Shit.
I shift my weight and glance away. This isn’t my business. I should turn around, walk inside, and pretend I didn’t see anything.
Ishould.
But I don’t.
Instead, I find myself moving toward her house, my feet carrying me across the sand-dusted wooden deck as if it’s out of my control. I don’t even know what I’m going to say—I just knock.
Soft, but firm.
A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Scarlett blinks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and her lips parted in surprise.
“You okay?” I ask.
She exhales, her walls snapping into place so fast I almost believe I imagined the tears. “Just great.”
Lie.
