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My throat is clogged up. I hack, trying to clear it.
“Well, then,” he says and—wow, his biceps again. His thick biceps flexes as he turns the book to read something on the back cover. “I guess I’m done here.”
Right. Done.
Good that he took the first book I recommended, and he’s on his way so that I won’t have to drool over him any longer, or get my hopes up.
“Hey,” he says, “name’s Joel, what’s yours?”
“What?”
Cocky grin is back, and so is that dimple in his left cheek.
Hi, dimple. Missed you.
“Your name,” he says. “Can’t always call you Nerdy Girl, now, can I?”
“No. Yeah.” I almost choke on my own tongue. “Candy?”
“You offering?” He glances down at my hands, then around, as if expecting a basket of candy to materialize.
“No. I mean, Candy. That’s my name. Candace Riley. Candy for short.”
He blinks long dark lashes over sky-blue eyes. We thank you, God, for this boy and his awesome genes. Keep up the good work.
“Candy,” he repeats. “I like it.”
“You do?”
He just said so, Candy.
And he seems to be waiting for something. A reply? A smile? A clue? Me to jump him in the middle of the store?
I totally would if I thought there was any chance of him letting it happen and not calling the cops.
Here, baby. Let me wrap my legs around you and ride you into the sunset.
“Ride me into the sunset?” One dark brow goes up, disappearing under his floppy dark hair, and I stare at him, horrified.
What in the actual fuck? I said that out loud? I didn’t… Did I? What’s wrong with me? My heart is pounding, fit to burst through my chest, and my face is on fire.
“The register is over there.” I point with a shaky finger. “If you don’t need anything else.”
“Candy—”
“You misheard, by the way. That wasn’t what I said at all. About the riding stuff.”
“No?” That damn brow is still playing hide-and-seek in his hair.
“No. And besides, it was an expression. Like, well, knock me over with a feather. Ride me into the sunset.”
His mouth twitches like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.
You’d better not, you awesome piece of man-candy. Go and leave me in my misery.
He doesn’t call me out on my bullshit, and that’s wise because I’m a second away from throwing a book at him and bolting.
My book throwing aim is pretty lethal. I pra
