Page 88 of The Book Club Boyfriend
I hit call.
She picks up on the third ring. “If this is you gloating—”
“You’re damn right it is.”
She laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You absolutely should have. I want it on record. Official documentation.”
“I’ve been thinking…” she says, quieter now. “That maybe I wouldn’t hate going on that date you mentioned.”
I lay back, smiling at the ceiling like a complete fool. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Shut up and pick a place,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in it—just that soft undercurrent she tries so hard to hide. The one that tells me she might be just as curious about this as I am.
I nudge Rip’s ear. “Hear that, bud? We’re in.”
Rip groans.
Scarlett snorts. “Is that your dog?”
“He’s very invested in our love story.”
“Well, tell him to get used to disappointment.”
I laugh. “Don’t threaten him. He’s fragile.”
She’s quiet for a second. Then, “Goodnight, Chase.”
“Goodnight, Scarlett.”
I hang up and stare at the phone for a long minute, wondering what the hell just shifted between us.
Whatever it was—I like it.
And I’m not blowing it.
Not this time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Axe Me Out Sometime
Scarlett
When I agreed to go out with Chase, I was fully prepared to regret it.
Not because he’s a bad guy—well, okay, heisa cocky, insufferably smug hockey player with too much charm and not enough humility—but because this? This is a terrible idea.
He’s the exact kind of guy I writeagainst. The kind who coasts on confidence and looks. The kind who doesn’t believe in quiet evenings or emotional depth. The kind who ruins perfectly reasonable, independent women with his dimples and devil-may-care swagger.
So imagine my surprise when I show up, expecting some overpriced steakhouse with a wine list longer than my last book—and instead, I find myself standing in front of a warehouse-looking building with a neon sign that reads:
AXE ME ANYTHING.
“You’re joking,” I say as I climb out of the car, eyeing the building like it personally offended me.
Chase leans against his Jeep, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. “What, not fancy enough for you?”
