Well, not nothing. Progress had been made in that department, but as it turned out, I’d spent a lot more time thinking about what Ididn’twant these last few weeks instead of what Idid.
I twisted the knob and pushed the door open to Smutty Buddies. I smiled when I spotted Nessa behind the counter at the back, chewing on her drink straw, fully engrossed in whatever book she was reading. I doubted she would’ve noticed me had the bell over the door not chimed.
“Well, hello stranger!” She dogeared her book and jumped to her feet. I made a mental note to ask her what size shoe she wore because dang it, her floral-printed ankle boots were to die for. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I promise I haven’t been avoiding y’all. We leave for Spring Training next week and there’s still so much to do.”
When I’d accepted the job with the Roasters, nobody had thought to mention the prospect of spending two days on a bus with thirty guys. I wondered why.
“Did you come to stock up on reading?”
“Kind of.” She lifted her brows, waiting. “Maybe?”
I bit down my lip, a chronic habit of mine that Mama had tried—and failed—to correct for years.“Better that than your nails, I suppose,” she would say to me.
I sucked in a breath and promptly word-vomited all over my new friend. “Soren and I kissed the other night after we cast a spell, and by that I mean thatIkissed him. Although he definitely kissed me back. Hemorethan kissed me back. And I thought we were going to do a whole lot more than that, only he asked me what I wanted, and I didn’t know what to tell him because no man has ever asked me what I wanted . . .thatway. Or in any way, for that matter. Not that there have been many men. Just the one. Well, two, if you count my senior prom date, although we never went beyond third base.”
Nessa blinked. She opened her mouth then shut it again.
Heavens, I broke her.
Just as my breathing finally returned to normal, she asked, “You kissed Soren Sinclair?”
I nodded. “I did.”
“And he kissed you back?”
“That’s right.”
“But things were moving a little quickly, so he stopped to ask you what you wanted?”
“That's the long and short of it.”
“But you didn’t know what you wanted?” I swallowed and shook my head. She must have recognized the anguish on my face because she added, “You still don’t know what you want.”
It didn’t escape me that this time, she wasn’t asking. I nodded again. The first step was admitting you had a problem, right?
“Okay.” A slow grin spread across her face. “Okay!” she repeated, this time with a little more pep in her step. I didn’t know whether to love or fear the glint in her eyes.
Nessa placed her hand on my shoulder and walked me over to a colorful table display. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “I am going to load you up.”
“With what?”
“With research.” She gestured at the books piled high in front of us, a sea of pinks, blues, blacks, and reds. Many of the covers featured illustrated representations of the stories' characters—of every age, size, and ethnicity—while others showcased a male model’s chiseled abs.
Soren could model for book covers.
I regretted the thought even as it crossed my mind.
“I don’t understand. How . . .”
“Look,” Nessa started. “You don’t have a lot of experience, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Some people are perfectly happy to go their entire lives without a romantic or sexual relationship, and that’s fine . . . for them. But I think there’s something brewing between you and Mr. Sin. And I think you owe it yourself to explore that. But first . . .”
She trailed off as she placed a book in my hands. I almost choked when I read the title. “Puck Me, Daddies.”
“That’s a ‘why choose’ romance. One woman, three hockey players.” She wagged her brows. Before I could protest, she handed me another.
“The Bear Shifter Next Door?”
