Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,45

It makes sense to me. How else would you create a fictional person that feels real unless you’re borrowing quirks and habits from actual people?”

Wes picked up his menu but didn’t look down at it. “You understand completely.”

I giggled and blushed under his intense gaze. There was something about him that made me feel like an ill-prepared schoolgirl meeting her crush at a high-school party and drinking spiked punch out of a red cup.

Our waiter arrived, listed off the brunch specials, and took our orders. Wes opted for a traditional breakfast where I decided on a veggie omelette with shredded hash browns. The waiter took our menus, returned with fresh coffees, and left us to ourselves while we waited on our food.

“So, you finished your book?” I asked. “That’s impressive. And it must feel good to be done.”

“It feels exceptional,” Wes said. “Nothing can quite compare really. You spend so much time poring over something and you don’t realize while you’re in it how all-consuming it is. Then you stand back when you’re finished and it feels like you’re coming back into yourself again. Like you’re in the present once more rather than half living within the pages. Does that make any sense?”

I nodded. “Just reading a good book will do that to me, so yes, I get it.”

Wes smiled and waited a beat before he spoke. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Briar.”

I giggled. Again.

Damn it, girl. Be cool!

“Why do boys always say that to me?” I asked.

Wes’s smile faltered.

I snickered. “I’m kidding, Wes. Just pulling your leg. You’d think all that people-watching you do would help you detect sarcasm. Jeez.”

He laughed. It was a loud, joyous sound. The old man reading the paper at the table behind him looked up from behind his glasses and scowled.

“I mean it,” Wes insisted. “I think you’re part of the reason finishing this book went so smoothly. I haven’t had such an easy time with words in quite some time. But you showed up, and the words started flowing, and I don’t feel like a prisoner in my own office anymore.”

I didn’t know what to think about that, but it made my heart swell in my chest like a makeup sponge taking on water.

Could this man be falling for me? Like, truly, genuinely falling for me?

The more important question danced around in my skull and waited for my consciousness to realize it. Am I falling for him?

I didn’t really know what real love looked like. Or felt like, for that matter. The only relationships I’d ever had were back in Waynesville, where I dated small-town boys with small-town dreams because they happened to be accessible, not because they made me weak in the knees.

It sounded shitty but it was true. Every relationship was a matter of convenience, nothing more.

This thing between Wes and I felt much different than that. He was a breath of fresh air to me as well. Sure, we’d met by happenstance and what others might call convenience, but he’d been the wind in my sails that I’d lost in just a day of being in New York City. This place would have eaten me whole and spat me out in pieces if not for his warmth and kindness.

Hell, I might have already hopped on a flight home if not for Wes.

It was difficult to tell whether or not I felt dependent on him or if I was actually falling for him. The emotions felt so closely linked and I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself to pinpoint the difference. I needed more time.

“How was your first day of work yesterday?” Wes asked. “I was thinking about you.”

“You were?”

He nodded nonchalantly, like he didn’t realize the weight those last five words possessed. “Yes, of course, I was. A new job is a big deal. Especially when you have so much riding on it. Go on then. Tell me all about it.”

His genuine interest in my day had me grinning from ear to ear as I recounted the events of my shift and how I’d nearly burned the place down within my first few hours.

“It was so strange,” I said. “Back at my old coffee house, I was so in control and organized all the time. But at Books and Brews, I feel so out of my element. The pace of literally everything is so much faster, and right when I feel confident about one thing, I’m thrown into something else. I haven’t even grazed the surface of everything