Four Letter Word (Love Logic #2) - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,58
I admit, finally turning the handle and pushing it open.
We step inside, and I become acutely aware of how much nerd stuff I have crammed in here. The bookcase filled to the brim with sci-fi books, graphic novels, and comic books is bad enough, but then there’s my TARDIS rug and Dalek pillows, a five piece Star Wars art canvas, a collectable pendant from Firefly, and a Star Trek whiskey decanter on the table next to the overstuffed chair.
“Holy shit, this is like a pleasure room for sci-fi geeks,” he says. “I have finally found the promised land, and I am never leaving.”
A relieved breath wooshes out of me. Riot makes his way over to the bookshelf, perusing the titles, lingering for a few seconds on his own.
“It’s wild to see my books up here along with all the kings of sci-fi.”
“Are you kidding? You make Orson Scott Card look like a hack. Robert Heinlein wishes he was you.”
A pink hue creeps into his cheeks, and it does something funny to my insides to see such a confident man like him blush.
“Shut up, that’s not true,” he argues weakly. “You just want to peek at my notebook.”
“I totally do, but it’s also true. The first time I read The Titans, it absolutely blew my mind. I actually read it three times right in a row; I couldn’t get enough of it.”
“Did you really?” he asks, his voice low and soft.
I pull it off the shelf to show him how worn-in the spine is, how the pages are frayed on some of the edges. I’ve never been a keep a book in pristine condition reader. Books are meant to be thoroughly enjoyed. I can always buy another copy when this one wears out.
“Would it be awkward if I asked you to sign it for me?”
“You really want me to?” he asks. I nod and reach for a pen I have sitting next to the whiskey decanter, holding it out to him.
He takes the pen and the book from my outstretched hands and settles himself in the chair.
“This’ll take me a minute; I never know what to write,” he warns.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “You can write an entire five-hundred page book, but you can’t think of a two sentence inscription?”
“The shorter something is the more difficult it is. Writing the synopsis for the book jacket is worse than writing the whole two-hundred thousand word story. And don’t even get me started on coming up with a title.”
There’s a knock at my door, and I can only assume it’s the food delivery. “I’ll leave you to think for a minute, and I’ll go get the food. You want to eat in the living room or…?” I leave the question hanging. I never eat in the kitchen, it feels too formal, but if Riot wants to, I won’t argue.
“Can we eat in here? This room definitely feels like you. I like it.”
“We can eat in here,” I agree, trying to hide how wide my smile is threatening to become. “I’ll be right back.”
I retrieve the food and give the delivery person a generous tip. Then I head into the kitchen to get silverware and napkins and carry everything back to my no-longer-secret nerd lair.
Riot is closing the book when I step back into the room.
“Can I see?” I ask, and he blushes again.
“If you read it in front of me, I’ll feel awkward and squirmy.”
I bark a laugh. “That kind of makes me want to do it more.”
“And here I thought you were nice,” he jokes.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll wait until you leave to read it.”
I plop down on the floor next to the chair Riot’s sitting in and start pulling containers out of the large paper bag. I hand him the kung pow chicken and an egg roll, along with a fork.
“I hope you don’t mind; I got a wide variety since I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“You could’ve texted to ask,” he points out with a grin that keeps me from feeling too stupid for not thinking of that. “I like everything, so you’re good. Although some almond cookies wouldn’t have hurt either.”
I smirk, reaching into the bag again and producing a package of almond cookies.
“Fuck yeah.” He reaches over and snatches the cookies, placing them in his lap greedily.
“You got your cookies, now give me the goods,” I prompt, holding my hand out expectantly. Riot quirks an eyebrow at me, and I snort a laugh. “The notebook.”