Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Tripp Atwood smiles at me from the front of my store, and I try to hurriedly rush over to him so I don’t have to answer Hazel’s questioning glares. I’m sure she’d be able to put two-and-two together to know Tripp is the one writing the stuff I’m reading.
Or maybe I’m just paranoid.
“Hi,” I say in a hushed whisper.
“Hey,” he strolls around the store, and I try to keep him from going near the ladies in the back.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean to sound rude, and I would never treat a paying customer like this, but I’m feeling all sorts of guilty.
Like the women in the back are going to see right through me.
Honestly, I’m worried Tripp might see right through me as well. Like he’d be able to know how his words make me feel.
Honestly, I don’t even understand it, so I guess I can’t expect him to know either.
“I was sitting at home writing, and I was…well, how do I explain this? I needed inspiration?” he asks it like a question.
“Inspiration?” I glance over my shoulder at the ladies who are all silent and watching the exchange between Tripp and me. Even though I know they probably can’t hear us.
“Yeah. Libraries and book stores have always given me inspiration.” He glances beyond me and nods toward the women in the back. “What’s going on back there?”
I feel like the wizard of Oz, trying to hide the fact that there are women sitting in a circle at the back of my shop. “Going on where?” I ask, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on here.
Tripp moves past me. “Hey, Mrs. Tisdale. How are you?”
“Well, if it isn’t Tripp Atwood,” I hear Hazel say.
I wish the world would swallow me whole right at this moment. The women gush over Tripp, and then the unthinkable happens. Just as I’m ready to rush Tripp out of the store, Hazel smiles wide.
“Tripp, why don’t you join us. We were just about to pick the book we’d like to read for next month.”
No please, this can’t be happening. I don’t even know how to act as Tripp smiles, all nonchalantly. Like this isn’t weird for him at all.
“Sure. I’d love to. What book are we thinking of? I just read a really great thriller last week.”
“A thriller?” Claire asks. “We were thinking more like a romance to sweep us off our feet.”
Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I wish now would be the moment the world would swallow me whole. Right now.
Hazel gives me a wink, and I want to literally puke right now. She knows.
I’m guessing they all know by the way their gaudy smiles and knowing eyes are aimed right at Tripp.
Tripp doesn’t appear to notice, or if he does it doesn’t affect him, and he, as cool as a cucumber, takes my seat with the ladies.
I awkwardly stand behind them all, and I wish I could just close up the store.
Tripp looks right at me. “Did I take your seat?” He stands, placing his hand on the back of the chair. “I can find another…” his words fall away as he glances around the shop, looking for another chair. He finds one and easily brings it over, placing it right next to the one he just vacated. He sits. “Is this okay?” he asks, all innocent and almost boyish.
He really is very cute. And charming. And ugh, I am not crushing on him.
“It’s fine,” I rush out a bit too quickly. I sit down. “Great, let’s get started,” I say, feeling a small thrill of excitement being this close to Tripp.
Hazel’s knowing eyes meet mine and she smiles. She definitely knows. “Yes, let’s start. I think we should read Fifty Shades Of Grey.”
Tripp coughs beside me, obviously not expecting that title to be mentioned. “Oh,” he says.
“I think you’ve rendered the boy speechless, Hazel,” June says with a laugh. “Let the man relax before we bombard him with that book. He might not ever come back.”
I’m hot. My cheeks are flaming red. I’m sure everyone can see that my face is about to explode right off my shoulders. “How about a thriller like Tripp said. We haven’t done a thriller in a while, right Helena?” I direct my question at Helena because she loves thrillers.
Obviously she’s not in the know, because she nods. “I think we could read the new Freida McFadden book.”
Now that the subject has been changed, and all the ladies go through the list of Freida books, I visibly relax.
Tripp’s leg brushes slightly against mine, and it sends a jolt of electricity racing through me. “Sorry,” he whispers, moving his leg away.
“It’s okay,” I whisper back, giving him a shy smile.
And then he does something so unexpected, he returns his leg back to where it was. Touching mine.