“Damn shame what they did to that dog,”I mutter through a laugh, and she nods, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
I see Mo approaching the table and I tell Max to calm down before we get kicked out. Mo drops off Max’s wine and a glass of water for me.
Max takes her glass, lifting a brow. “You really must not have wanted to tell me about Vanessa.”
I exhale. “Let’s just say it’s a touchy subject.”
“I noticed.” She takes a slow sip of wine, throat bobbing, lips glistening—Stop it, Eli.
I shift in my seat, clearing my throat. “So, what brings you to Canada again?”
“A romance novel conference. I’m a nerd in the worst way, so my escape is smutty romance.“
I raise a brow. “Smutty?”
“Love stories with really good sex. Spicy sex. Nasty sex—”
“Okay,” I say, nearly pleading for her to stop sayingsex.“I get it.”
She smiles. “So yes, that’s what I do when I want to shut down and escape. No code to write, no security breaches to monitor. Just hot men, badass women, and the chaos that gets them to their happily ever after.”
“Tech nerd, huh?”
“Yeah. Surprising?”
“A bit.”
She cocks her head. “Why?”
“You seem too…you. Loud, messy. Fun. Free-spirited. I thought most tech nerds were boring.”
“Stereotype, much?”
I chuckle. “I’ve just never met a tech nerd who can manage to make even the most stoic of people uncomfortable.”
“Well, now you have and apparently you think I’m fun?”
I roll my eyes. But I want to keep talking to her. “Whatever. What got you into romance?”
“My boss and her friends have a wild book club. They kept coming back from meetings with these insane stories about mafia weddings and spicy mountain men. I got curious…then hooked.”
I like how she keeps using the word spicy. It’s exactly how I’d describe her.
“And now you roam the woods looking for unsuspecting book boy toys, eh?”
“Bookboyfriends,” she corrects. “And no. You were a bonus. Though I’d happily make you my toy.”
I huff a low laugh. “Yeah…I’m no book boyfriend or whatever.”
She raises a brow. “Then what are you?”
Not opposed to being a toy for you, that’s for damn sure.
“I’m a lot of things.”
She groans. “You’re either being intentionally vague, or you’re just this hard to connect with.”
“Maybe both.”
