“Winged VictoryandTalon Blade?” She looks at me in surprise. “You’ve read those?”
“They’re two of the most popular books of the last decade.”
“They’re alllong.”
“I spend a lot of time on planes.”
“What order is this list in?”
“I add books at the bottom.”
“So the most recent book you read is…” She reaches over and swipes down the screen. “Hang on, you’ve read a lot of books.On Tyranny?You read that?”
“Yeah. It’s good. Important to read in these current times.”
“You read all these books,” she repeats, swiping up and down again.
“Not allthisyear.”
“Oh thank God.”
“I think I started this list a year ago September.”
She groans. “So you’ve read like…fifty books in the last sixteen months?”
I grin. “Got you.”
“You did, good boy,” she murmurs. And fuck if my cock doesn’t twitch in delight as she fights a smile. Her mouth is so fucking expressive, I love it. I think I love her, already, and that’s dangerous. “I’ve only read maybe ten books this year, not including studying.”
I set my glass down, then nudge my knuckles against hers on the bar top. “Favorite book of the year?”
“The Mist At Dawn’s Edge,” she says immediately.
It’s a romantasy that I started to listen to in audio and gave up on, so it didn’t make my list.
“Haven’t read that one yet,” I manage to say with a straight face. I’m not going to tell her I didn’t like it if it was her favorite of the year. If she loved it, I’ll find something to love about it, too.
“It’s a little slow at the start, but there’s something about the way she writes that’s so beautiful.”
Curious, I flip to my books app and download it.
On the page, the first sentence is more interesting than I remember it being in audio. Same with the second. Or maybe it’s just because I know Francesca likes this book, that might be it.
Fuck, it could also be the gin.
“Yeah, okay, this is good,” I say, sliding her a smile before flicking my gaze back to the book on my phone.
She laughs. “Reading at a bar on New Year’s Eve is peak antisocial.”
“Oh?” I look up from the screen, feigning innocence. “I didn’t know we were being social.”
“We’re not,” she says.
We. I like the sound of that.
I angle my phone so she can read along with me, and the happy sigh she makes when we get to the moment the female main character meets the asshole guy who’s going to glower at her for the next four hundred pages—but not let anyone else glower at her, I’m sure—is worth the price of the ebook right then and there.
There’s a fight scene next, and when they win that little skirmish, we cheers our Prosecco glasses.
