Page 53 of The Book Club Boyfriend
Now, I can’t stop watching the way Chase’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. The way he’s so easy with strangers. The way he slips effortlessly into people’s hearts like it’s nothing.
I hate it.
I hate that he’s good at this.
I hate that I’m suddenly wondering how many other women he’s smiled at like that. How many others he’s made feel special.
And Ireallyhate that I care.
The woman thanks him and floats off with her selfie like she’s won the damn lottery. Chase turns back to me, that same grin still hovering on his face—until he sees mine.
“You okay?” he asks, brow furrowing slightly.
“Fine,” I say too fast. “Just ready to get this over with.”
He studies me for a second like he can see straight through the lie. Then, thankfully, the stage manager calls out that it’s time to mic up.
A tech assistant begins clipping mics to us—his on his collar and mine on my dress near my collarbone.
I keep my eyes forward.
Breathe.
I don’t have time to analyze it. Because Vivian is leading us toward the stage, and suddenly, it’s happening.
The book club event isstarting.
And I haveabsolutelyno idea how I’m going to survive it.
I smooth my hands over my dress for the eighth time and remind myself that I’ve been on a stage before. I’ve spoken at events, led panels, and signed books for hours. This is nothing new.
Except it is. Because tonight I’mnotin a room full of Scottie Calloway superfans. I’m in enemy territory—empowered book club devotees. Like they have dreams of falling in love with their own cinnamon roll hockey player.
Gross.
And unfortunately, I’m the cynic sent here to talk to them about love.
Fantastic.
“I think I might puke,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
“Please don’t,” a voice says, warm and low right by my ear. “It would really ruin the mood.”
I flinch, glancing over my shoulder.
Chase.
His voice is filled with both warmth and humor.
The beach bro energy is gone, and somehow that sets me on edge. His tie is slightly loosened,like he’s already conquered the day.
He looks... unfairly good.
“I hope you’re up for a challenge,” he says, eyes gleaming.
I arch a brow. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
He just grins, like we’re about to compete in a game neither of us knows the rules to, but he’s convinced he’ll win.
