Page 52 of The Book Club Boyfriend
Gone.
Completely clean-shaven, revealing a strong, chiseled jaw that makes my brain short-circuit for a second.
Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.
He turns just as Vivian and I approach, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine. And damn him—his whole face lights up like we’re old friends, like Ididn’tstorm off and avoid him for an entire week.
“Scarlett,” he says, his voice warm and familiar.
I freeze.
Vivian is still talking, but I don’t hear a word she says.
Because Chase Remington—annoying,cocky,insufferableChase—is looking at me like heenjoysthe fact that I’m flustered.
And worse?
He’s right.
Iamflustered.
I clear my throat, struggling to pull myself together. “You clean up well, Remington.”
His lips twitch, and he steps closer, his voice low. “You look… incredible.”
Oh.
Okay.
Arealcompliment.
Not teasing. Not sarcasm.
Just—real.
I blink up at him, caught off guard by the shift in tone, the sincerity in his eyes. Before I can come up with a snarky comeback to the weird little flutter in my chest, a woman in a glittery blue dress cuts between us.
“Oh mygosh—you’re Chase Remington, right?” She beams up at him, already pulling out her phone. “Do you mind if I get a picture? My sister and I are huge fans. She’s gonna freak.”
Chase blinks, then gives her the megawatt smile I’ve come to associate with his media face. “Of course. I’m happy to.”
He shifts easily into charm mode—arm slung casually around her shoulders, dimples flashing, head tilted just right for the selfie. He even laughs when she playfully pokes his chest and says, “You reallyarebuilt like a tank.”
And it’s stupid.
It’ssostupid.
But something tightens in my chest.
I glance away, folding my arms across my body like that might help shield me from the weird jolt of… whatever this is.
Jealousy?
God. No.
I don’t get jealous. That’s not who I am. I’m theposter girl for independence. The queen of emotional detachment. I literally built a career on the idea that needing a man is a social construct and feelings are, at best, wildly overrated.
But now?
