The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,54

good.”

She blinked. “You read it?”

“Yeah, and I’d love to keep”—my gaze went to her lips—”talking with you. About what we were discussing before…”

“Actually,” she said, “I think I see an open seat. Maybe later?”

As she hustled down the aisle, leaving both Baylor and me staring after her, I watched her say something to Chase. The next thing I know, he’d stood up to let her in, giving her the seat next to the window. At my frown, his eyes widened, and he held up his hands as if to say, “Hey, don’t look at me. It’s not my fault.”

And, as I lowered back into my seat, I knew he was right. I came on too strong. And Honor ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But why did she run? And why hadn’t she wanted to sit with me? I wondered.

The bus started, and we’d gone about five minutes before I heard her laugh. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw her talking animatedly with Chase about something and frowned. It didn’t look like they were getting much interviewing done.

Baylor, who’d ended up seated next to me, shook his head. “Archer, whatever you do, do not keep looking back there.”

I shifted my scowl to him.

“What? Don’t give me that look,” he said. “Trust me on this. I aced Psychology last semester. You don’t want your mind to start playing tricks, coming up with all these scenarios of what they might be talking about. You’ll only be torturing yourself. And over what? It’s not like Chase is going to make a move to steal your girl.”

As Honor’s laugh floated up again, I gave into the impulse and looked back, despite Baylor’s warning. Chase and Honor really did look cozy back there. I wondered what they were saying, wondered if she could feel my gaze on her like I always felt hers on me. I wondered if she regretted not sitting next to me in the first place or if she was happy with her choice.

Baylor was right about one thing.

It was torture, the not knowing.

But no worries, I reassured myself. This was Chase and Honor, my younger brother and the girl I was falling for. At least they didn’t have much in common—besides a love of books, solid work ethic, quirky personalities that would compliment each other a thousand times better than ours ever would…

Damn.

On second thought, maybe I should be more worried.

“I still can’t believe you’re reading that,” I said.

“Re-reading,” Chase corrected. “I told you it’s really good. I only ever re-read the great ones.”

“It’s just too strange,” I said, digging into my bag.

“What’s strange? Anyone who doesn’t like Jamie and Claire’s story was born without a heart. Outlander has to be one of the best books written this century.”

I smiled. “Hey, no arguments here, Sassenach.” I held up one of the paperbacks I’d brought along to read on the long bus ride. The deep blue cover was an exact match to the one Chase held in his hands. “What’s weird is we had the exact same idea.”

Chase’s lips tilted up in a grin. “You know what they say about great minds.”

“They like to devour great books,” I said.

This was so surreal. I’d come back here to avoid Archer and the pull I’d felt since meeting him, the one that only got stronger every time we spoke—or kissed. My brain was still mushy around the edges, addled by our encounter, my feelings all over the place. Archer O’Brien’s kisses really should’ve been illegal.

Baylor’s teasing hadn’t helped, but the way Archer had stood next to him, looking so completely unruffled, so unlike me…I knew I needed a little more time before we talked again. After weighing my options, I’d decided to sit next to Chase. He’d always struck me as the least intimidating of all the O’Briens, and today was no different. Unlike Dex, who’d been sitting at the back of the bus, staring at me hard as I walked up the aisle, as if daring me to sit next to him, Chase was head down, reading a book.

There was no choice really.

Of course, I’d asked Chase if I could sit next to him. I just hadn’t expected us to be reading the exact same thing. The realization had drawn a laugh from my lips and made me immediately comfortable all at once.

“So, I’m doing a few interviews for The Howler,” I began, flipping open the notebook I’d pulled out along with my paperback. “And I was hoping