Page 28 of Read Me (Forget the Past 2)

“Oh, yeah. That’s normally why I come here.” She waves a hand dismissively.

Briefly, I struggle to make words come out of my mouth. Eventually, I manage, “To research prostitution?”

Summer laughs, a deep booming noise that takes over her entire compact body. For some reason, I have the urge to gather her into my arms while she does it, so I can experience the joy shake through her gorgeous body.

“No. Oh my gosh. Well”—she shrugs, still chuckling—“technically yes. But not because I have any particular interest in the subject. I’m just researching it for the Wikipedia article. I’m a Wikipedia editor.”

“You have a second job?”

“No. Although I should probably have one. Maybe clear out my student loans faster. But anyone with a computer and internet access can edit Wikipedia. Unfortunately, over ninety percent of the editors are men, which means the articles tend to focus on traditionally male-centered topics. I’ve made it my mission to help make Wikipedia a little more female friendly.”

“This is your hobby?”

“One of them. I mean, I enjoy researching anyway. Why not make sure some good comes out of it?”

“You use the university’s databases?”

“Yes! Exactly. I come here to access information the general public may not be able to afford. And it’s not plagiarism or anything. I cite all my sources. Other editors will delete your entries if you don’t. Plus, it’s just the right thing to do.”

I have to rest my chin in my hand. Give my head a break.

It’s as if Summer has made it her mission to both tempt and shame me. If she knew my past, I’m almost certain she wouldn’t be giving me that bright smile of hers.

She’d judge me and have every right to.

Reflexively, I glance down at my phone, hoping to see a missed call, or at least a text from my agent. Something indicating my ace has been dealt. That I’ve turned into the man this amazing woman could never resist.

But my screen is blank.

“Enough about me. We’re here for you. Now I did some initial searching. You know, just to get a feel for your topics, and I think we should start with this database.” Summer proceeds to guide me through a scholarly focused search, pointing to different buttons and suggesting more search terms than I considered.

When I first asked Summer for help, it wasn’t truly about the research. I’m pretty confident in my ability to find information. The request came to me because I wanted to spend time with her. I’m not satisfied with the few moments before closing where she tries to help me put my books away. Those minutes are great, but I want more.

Still, with the uncomfortable dating situation she was running from, I was even less confident about receiving a yes if I put myself on the line and asked her out.

So I asked for research help.

And, as I marvel at the lists of academic articles appearing after each search, I realize I need help.

This is amazing.

Summer is amazing.

I want her to sit on my lap so I can put my arms around her as she explains how to expertly navigate databases. She can show me how to refine searches as I kiss her neck. She can wax poetic about the benefit of mining reference lists as I slide my hand up the inseam of her jeans.

Her librarian talk makes me hot.

I can’t help it.

But I stumble out of my fantasies when I realize we’re going to have someone join our research duo.

A woman approaches our table, walking across the grassy area with purpose. She looks official, with a name tag and a suit jacket. My shoulders tense in preparation for us to get dismissed from the campus. Maybe Summer could have passed as a student, but I doubt anyone thinks I belong here.

“I should go,” I mutter.

“Go? Why? Research isn’t a five-minute process, Cole. I mean, you know this. You spend hours in your book fortress. You can’t expect a database to give you what you’re looking for in seconds just because it’s electronic. Here. Let’s try another search.”

I struggle against a glare. Not at Summer. Never at her. I want to scowl at the official-looking woman who’s only ten feet away. I want to send her on retreat with the warning of my eyes, so she can’t demand we leave and therefore break this delicious contact between my leg and Summer’s. My arm twitches, aching to snake out, wrap around my little librarian’s waist, and pull her closer.

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