Page 33 of That Rush

“I’m curious about the competition.”

“You haven’t asked me on a date, Aiden. You invited me to a family cookout.”

“And you chose that book.”

“Happily.”

The satisfaction on his face says my answer interests him more than an apology would have. His fingers catch the exposed corner when I adjust the file.

“You’re going to judge the cover,” I warn.

“I can handle a man without a shirt.”

“That confidence is exactly why I’m warning you.”

He slips the paperback free, and I let it go rather than wrestle Aiden Slade across the circulation desk.

“Careful.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m irritated.”

“Your irritation is pink.”

He opens the book where the spine naturally gives, directly to the page I marked last night.

His eyes drop to the first line.

Put your hands over your head and keep them there while I use my mouth until you forget every word except my name.

Aiden doesn’t blink.

His thumb presses the page open, his gaze sweeping over the sentence a second time. A flicker of surprise, then something else—a focused, assessing interest that brings a fresh wave of heat to my cheeks.

“Give me the book.”

He holds it out, although his eyes lift slowly to mine. “This is romance?”

I take it from him. “This is chapter twenty-two. They’ve spent plenty of time discussing their feelings.”

“Apparently, they moved on to other topics.”

“Character growth takes many forms. Besides, you’ve only read one sentence.”

“One very informative sentence.”

“You weren’t invited to be informed.”

“You brought it to work.”

“For my lunch break. A file on top of something usually means ‘do not touch.’”

“Most people don’t blush this prettily when someone finds them.”

I glance toward Josie. She has settled into a beanbag with a glittery book open across her knees. No one is waiting at the circulation desk, but Aiden’s voice carries too well for him to be discussing oral sex in the middle of my workplace.

“If you insist on conducting a literary investigation, we’re moving away from the desk.”