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"I don't know." And I meant it.
Of course, I had asked myself the same question. Why her? Why the woman who was just stumbling out of a relationship? Whose heart had been broken right before my very eyes? Why Amelia, who made me forget all my principles and even my reason, which I had been so proud of in recent years?
"And I'm not sure what advice to give you. On the one hand, I want to tell you that you're playing with fire. On the other, in the ten years we've known each other, I've never seen you look at anyone like that. It makes me think… and scares me a bit."
With a flicker of confidence, I shrugged. "No matter what happens, I can't see a scenario where I would regret having brought her here."
"How can you be so confident when she practically has 'chaos' written on her forehead?" We both glanced her way. A slight wrinkle had formed on her forehead, probably because of what she was reading. "Where do you get this optimistic outlook?"
The answer was simple. "If I always dwelled on the negative, there'd be no time left for anything else. If she breaks my heart, I can always drown my sorrows at your bar with free drinks."
"If? Not when?"
I chuckled. "Positive thinking, Wilder."
"And your heart?"
Of course, he had to dig deeper. So I handed him my empty glass, which I had set down by the grill earlier. "Maybe I like her a bit too much for her to break anything else."
Wilder laughed. "I can think of at least one other part that's quite likely to be at risk."
Shaking my head, I nudged him toward the bar. He should get back to the job he obviously hadn't come here for and bring me another drink to help me survive more conversations like this.
As soon as he was out of my sight, my attention returned to Amelia, still immersed in her book. While I had been shelving her cabinet, there had been enough time to browse through her collection. With only half an eye, since time was pressing, it was hard to miss that she had a penchant for books with a dark twist, whether it was the classics or romance novels.
A stark contrast to what was found on my own bookshelf—which made it all the more interesting.
"What were you thinking about so intently?"
Amelia's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up because she was right behind me.
She stepped right next to me, book still in hand and using a finger as a bookmark.
"About the books I sorted into your shelf this morning," I replied.
She nodded knowingly. "So, you're still not over the fact that I read books with a significant amount of erotica?"
"You could be reading about sex between blue aliens for all I care. It wouldn't make a difference."
She opened her mouth but said nothing at first. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a problem with it," she finally concluded.
"Why should I?"
"Not even if I tell you that I read most of these scenes one-handed?"
Images formed in my mind. Images of her with both hands on the book because I had claimed the space between her legs for myself. As she read all the dirty details from her books to me, I'd be doing all the filthy things I could think of with her. I pulled myself together.
"If anything, I'd give you my credit card and the address of the bookstore so you could buy more of these books that I would obviously benefit from."
As if it were reality. As if I really gained something from her getting lost in these books all day.
"Figuratively speaking, of course," I added.
"Of course," she murmured so softly that I barely heard her. "Figuratively speaking."
To save myself from further embarrassment, I reached for a plate and served her a steak straight from the grill without any of the side dishes that were a few feet away on a small table.
Part of me hoped she would leave and return to her log so I could contemplate the ice-cold shower that I’d need later. Amelia stayed next to me, balancing the plate on her book. With her other hand, she had fished for silverware.
