Once Upon a Date - Susan Hatler Page 0,13

this.” His mouth moved toward mine.

My eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before I snapped them open again and thrust a finger to his chest. “Hey!”

He blinked through hooded lids. “What? Did I get it wrong?”

“Yes. If this were my story, I would be stuck in this elevator with my hero, which clearly isn’t you.” I scrambled to my feet, just to gain more space from him before he tempted me again.

“You don’t think I could be the hero of a novel?” He grinned, standing up. “You seemed to think differently last night when you kissed me.”

“Well, that was because I thought you were someone else!”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Ah, but maybe your heart knew, even if your head didn’t.”

“Or, maybe I had too much champagne.”

“As I recall you barely had one glass.”

“I’m a rare drinker,” I lied, loving the annoyed look that appeared on his face.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Michelle, I really am sorry for hurting you all those years ago. I did what I thought was right at the time, and, well, there have been many times since when I’ve given myself a good talking to about my choices.”

My heart warmed, touched by his apology. “It was a long time ago.”

“Maybe it’s time we catch up?” he suggested.

“Not like we have anything else to do,” I said, giving him a small smile.

The years fell away as the minutes ticked by, with Brooks filling me in on all the things he’d been up to since high school. I made him laugh with tales of my various part-time jobs, including a stint teaching creative writing at a local adult school where the students refused to take me seriously.

It was as if the years had never passed with us apart, and I found myself thinking that maybe, after almost ten years, it was time to forgive and forget—although the way Brooks kept looking at me made it awfully hard to think straight at all.

“I’m sorry the students gave you such a hard time at the adult school, Michelle, but you have to admit, those freckles do make you look young. And, hey, if you choose to make those changes to make your novel publishable then I’m sure you’ll get taken a bit more seriously at the school.”

And with that the spell was broken.

Just as I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his changes, the elevator jolted back to life and within seconds the doors opened on the ground floor. So, I walked out without giving Brooks a backward glance, calling a casual goodbye over my shoulder as I headed down the bustling downtown sidewalk and away from Brooks and his kissable lips.

****

“Michelle, where are you going?” Brooks called out to me a minute after I’d left him.

I turned around and spotted him weaving through the pedestrians on the sidewalk, hurrying to catch up with me. What the . . .?

“Michelle, would you listen for just a minute?” He hurried over until he was beside me, looking a little flustered.

“What more do I need to hear, Brooks? We just spent an hour stuck together in an elevator. I believe we’ve said all we needed to say.”

“Things were going fine. Why are you so upset now?” he asked, a tiny line forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t understand. I said I would give you a book deal if—”

“Yes, you did.” I stopped abruptly and turned to look at him. “If I wrote a decent book. Gee, what a compliment.”

He blew out a breath. “I didn’t say the word ‘decent.’ Your book already is decent. It’s great, actually.”

I started toward my favorite coffee cart. “But?”

“But like I said, it’s just not realistic,” he said, moving to catch up with me. “If you could just . . . aaarrgggghhhh!”

I gasped as Brooks stumbled backward on the sidewalk. His legs seemed to have gotten tangled up in a very sparkly leash that had a familiar dog attached to the other end, who was wearing a tiny sparkly doggy t-shirt.

“Good boy, Atticus!” I bent down to stroke the dog’s curly coat and smiled up at Courtney Carmichael, barista extraordinaire and the dog’s owner. I watched with amusement as Brooks worked to disentangle himself from the leash. I gave the dog a frowny face. “Did that mean old man startle you?”

“Mean old man?” Courtney looked from me to Brooks and then back to me again, wearing a surprised expression. “He usually brings Atticus treats all the time. .