“You think I’m hot?”
“Yeah.” I say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
The look in her eyes is dazed, like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Liam, I’ve seen some of the women you’ve been with.”
“And?”
“And they don’t look like me. They’re tall models and celebrities. I’m not tall. I’m not a model. And I’m not a celebrity.”
I frown, utterly confused. Does Kendall really not know how beautiful she is?
“Kendall. You are insanely hot.”
Her eyes widen the slightest bit. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Why do you think I’m always telling you how pretty you look?”
“I just assumed you were fucking with me. You joke about everything else.”
I just stare at her, upset at how I’ve given her the wrong impression all these years.
“Kendall, no. You’re stunning. Every time I’ve called you pretty or hot, I’ve meant it. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
That blush on her cheeks deepens. Her eyes fall to her lap, like she’s avoiding looking at me.
Shit.
What the fuck was I thinking going on and on about her like that? I sounded like a hard-up weirdo. Now she’s uncomfortable, and it’s my fault.
I clear my throat. I need to get this conversation back on track.
“So, um, I know you’ve readPersuasiona million times, but what was your favorite part of the book?” I ask.
She looks up and blinks a few times and the focused in her eyes returns. “The love letter.”
My brain pulls up a memory from when we were in college. Sophomore year, I worked up the nerve to write her a letter confessing that I had a crush on her, then I stuck it on the windshield of her car. It wasn’t a love letter like the one Captain Wentworth wrote—I could never write anything poetic like that. But it was honest. I told her exactly how I felt about her. It was the first and only time I’d ever written anything like that.
She never said a word about it. Which meant that the letter probably got blown away in the wind. Or maybe I stuck it on the wrong car.
Or maybe she did read it and didn’t feel the same way…and she was so put off by what I did that she never mentioned it.
A familiar wave of embarrassment washes over me, heating me from the inside out. I push away the memory. It doesn’t matter now.
I try to smile. “Uh, yeah. The letter. Captain Wentworth really knocked it out of the park, didn’t he?”
She laughs, despite the flustered look in her eyes and the blush still lingering on her cheeks. We’re quiet, and for a long moment all we hear is the background noise of chatter, laughter, and TVs in the bar.
“So, um, now that you’re an expert in romantic literature, you could start writing your best man speech,” Kendall says.
“Yeah. I guess I could.”
She glances down at her phone. “I should probably head home. I’ve got class early in the morning.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ve got an early training session.”
“I should start packing soon for Cabo.”
“Right. That’s next weekend.”
