"Right," she says, her lips compressing into a line that says maybe I should have given her the complicated answer instead. "Well, have fun with…whatever that is. I gotta go." She shoots a worried glance over her shoulder at her friend. "Lilah is on her way, right?"
"Yep. She should be here any minute."
Is it my imagination, or does she look relieved?
Fuck my life. She doesn't trust me at all.
"Let me grab my book, and I'll walk you out," I offer, since it's pretty goddamn clear she doesn't want to leave Sarah alone in the store with me.
Olive doesn't even hesitate before nodding.
I stride to a random shelf, scan it, and then grab a book without even looking at the title before carrying it to the counter.
Olive chokes when she catches sight of the cover.
I glance down and barely bite back a curse.A Serial Killer's Guide to Love? What the actual fuck?
"Interesting choice," Olive says weakly.
"I have a thing for villains," I say, deadpan. What the fuck else am I going to do at this point? I'm guessing she already knows what book I bought the other day…and precisely what it was about. Who knew just how many romances involved kidnapping, stalking, and flags so red they're goddamn stop signs? Hallmark would be horrified.
Sarah rings me up, looking like she's trying desperately not to laugh. Olive doesn't say a single word, not until we're outside, the sun beating down on us.
"So…I take it villains aren't your thing?"
"Nope," she says weakly.
"What do you like, Rebel?" I ask, genuinely curious what she reads, what she thinks about, what fantasies fuel her imagination.
She hesitates for a long moment and then sighs. "Follow me."
I walk two steps behind her, watching the way her ass sways in her jeans, as she leads me to her car. When she pops the locks and then opens the door, leaning in, I discreetly adjust my cock.
She rummages for a second before reemerging with a book in her hands.
"The Princess Bride," I murmur, grinning.
"This is my favorite," she says, holding it out to me. "You can borrow it." She clings to it for a minute before relinquishing it into my hands. "But if you dogear a page, I will come back to haunt you."
I glance at the battered cover, grinning. "Uh, hate to break it to you, but this is one breath from falling the fuck apart already."
"I said it was my favorite," she protests.
"Yeah, that you did." I chuckle, tucking it into my bag alongside the book I just bought inside the store. "I'll take good care of it."
"You better."
I hold up three fingers. "Scout's Honor."
"For some reason, I highly doubt you were ever a Boy Scout, Mason," she says, rolling her eyes.
"Oh, but I was," I murmur. "All the way until high school."
Her eyes widen in genuine surprise, like she can't fathom that I was—and will always be—a fucking nerd. Maybe I have better clothes and hit the gym now, but I'm still the same motherfucker who wrote a fifty-page report on Plato for extra credit over summer break my freshman year.
"See you later, Rebel." I turn and stride away before I do something completely unhinged—like kiss that look off her gorgeous face.
Chapter Three
