Page 117 of Blush Crush

“Come on,” she groans. “You have to give me something. I’m dying here.”

So cute when she’s frustrated.

“Patience, doll. Patience.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pretends to pout, but I still don’t cave.

The drive to Badger Canyon takes about twenty-five minutes. Long enough that she tries three more times to get a hint out of me and long enough that I have to keep reminding myself to watch the road instead of her.

That dress is going to be the death of me. Even covered by her peacoat I can hardly take my eyes off her.

I asked her to wear a dress because I felt like giving her a reason to get dolled up. What I didn’t account for is how distracting it would be. All I want to do is run my hands over all that smooth fabric and feel every single one of her soft curves. Everything about her is so fucking tempting.

I’ve seen her done up before, but tonight feels different. There’s something in the way she did her hair, in the slight nervousness she’s trying to hide, in the fact that she chose that dress for me. And it’s making it damn near impossible to stick to the plan.

Focus.

I pull off the main road into Badger Canyon’s small downtown strip and she sits up straighter, looking around.

“So it’s something in Badger Canyon?” she guesses, attention fixed out the window.

“Maybe,” I taunt.

I park in front of Thick Plots Bookshop, an independent romance bookstore that officially opens in two weeks. The location itself has been a bookstore for decades, but the owner’s daughter recently took over and decided to make the selection more niche.

I know this because I’ve spent the past few days talking to her on the phone to arrange all this.

And the reason I know about the bookstore at all is thanks to Nora. She handled the legal side of transferring ownership. Itwas dumb luck that she mentioned it in passing and I hung onto it, immediately thinking of Ariana.

Ariana’s brows knot as she stares at the building. “We’re going to a bookstore? For a date?” she mutters to herself before whipping her head back to look at me. “I thought this place shut down.”

“Yep.” I grin before parking and shutting off the truck. We’re the only vehicle in the parking lot.

Her eyes bounce around, confusion settling in her expression. “I really don’t think this place is in business anymore.”

“It sort of is.” I slide out and come around to open her door, and she takes my extended hand to help her out. “But tonight it’s open only for us.”

Her lips curl into a smile, her eyes brightening as they beam up at me. “What on Earth did you plan, Cole Benton?”

My chest tightens with nerves. She actually looks excited, and I can only hope I don’t disappoint her.

There’s a warm amber light visible through the windows even though the sign on the door saysClosed. Ariana’s eyes snag on it like I might be leading her astray.

Evelyn, who owns Thick Plots, unlocks the door as we approach, the scent of fresh paint and recent renovations drifting out to meet us. She’s younger than I expected, closer to Ariana’s age, with paint-stained overalls, oversized tortoiseshell glasses, her hair twisted into a messy bun, all of it finished off with a bold red lipstick. Eccentric, to say the least.

She greets us with a wide smile, holding the door open. “Hi, hi. Welcome in.” Her eyes land on me. “You must be Cole.”

“That’s me.” We shake hands, and then she and Ariana do the same.

As we make our way inside, Evelyn sweeps an arm toward the shop. The stocked shelves run floor to ceiling, adorned withrolling ladders and cushioned reading nooks tucked between sections. Behind the register, painted directly onto the exposed brick wall in bold hand-lettered script: I LIKE THICK PLOTS AND I CANNOT LIE.

“I love that,” Ariana says with a chuckle, pointing at it.

Evelyn grins. “Thanks! Love a little play on words.” She moves to stand behind the counter of registers. “Welcome to Thick Plots. You two basically have the place to yourselves. And don’t mind me.” She tips her head where a neat stack of paperwork is waiting. “I’ll be right there with my earbuds in, completely invisible. Think of me as a very responsible ghost. I’m mainly here to make sure nobody burns anything down. Please don’t burn anything down.”

“We’ll try not to.” I point at Ariana. “She is a bit of a pyro, though.”

Ariana elbows me. “Ignore him.”