The Gritty Truth (The Whiskeys Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor #7) - Melissa Foster Page 0,18
they’d finally said good night, she’d been hot and bothered. And now she missed him. She missed his face, his laugh, the way he looked at her.
“I know you’re dying to see Quincy,” Angela said as they turned the corner and the bookstore awning came into view. “But it’s not like he’s going anywhere. You said he’s working until four, then picking you up for the scavenger hunt.”
“I know. I’m just—”
“A stalker?” Angela teased.
“No. But who are you to judge? When you started dating Joey, you saw each other every day. I just want a peek.” She stopped walking and said, “Wait. Do I seem like a stalker? Is it weird that after all these months, texting isn’t enough anymore?”
Angela laughed. “No. I was kidding. The only thing you seem like is a girl who has finally let the guy she’s been dreaming about all summer into her life, and one taste was not enough. That’s a good thing, Roni. Maybe you’ll even dust off your cooch and get some action. Now, come on, let’s go see your guy; then we can go see mine.”
“Ang! I have a guy!” she said giddily, making them both laugh. Her nerves flamed as they neared the entrance to the bookstore, and she grabbed Angela’s arm and stopped walking. “Now I’m worried he’ll think I’m clingy.”
“Clingy would have been begging him to come by after he took the kids out last night. You just want to say hello. Besides, didn’t you say he texted you something sappy about counting down the hours until the scavenger hunt? He’s totally into you.” She pulled open the door and waved Roni in.
His text hadn’t been sappy at all. Her pulse quickened just thinking about it. There’s this guy at the bookstore bragging about taking out the hottest girl in Peaceful Harbor tonight. I gotta show you this guy. He’d texted a selfie with the message Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful. His sense of humor made him even harder to resist. Not that she wanted to resist him anymore.
She spotted Quincy, and those butterflies took flight again. His hair fell in front of his eyes, and he raked his hand through it, pushing it behind his ears, giving her a great view of his handsome face. She loved his honest eyes, but what was it about his face that she liked so much? She’d been asking herself that for two days. There was no doubt he was gorgeous, with a square jaw and inescapable ruggedness, but looks went only so far. Roni knew how quickly outward appearances could change with accidents or age. She’d learned from her grandmother to see people for who they were on the inside, because even attractive people could be rotten. The answer dawned on her. The person Quincy was on the inside was what made everything else about him even more alluring. And the best part was, she had a sneaking suspicion that she might be the only person who was privy to his tender, romantic side.
She watched him reading to about a dozen toddlers sitting on the floor in front of his chair, their adorable faces tipped up as they hung on his every word. Two more children stood by his side, peering at the pages he was reading. One had a hand on his shoulder, and another was leaning against his other side. Quincy looked out at the kids as he told the story, speaking in silly voices and asking questions. He listened as intently to their answers as he had to her the other night. A little blond girl holding a stuffed hedgehog tried to climb into his lap. He lifted her and put his arm around her without missing a word of the story. The little girl rested her head on his shoulder.
Melt. Melt. Melt.
Angela dragged Roni away from the entrance, and they stood near a skinny girl who was also watching Quincy. Angela pointed to a handful of women standing huddled together, whispering, at the edge of the carpet the children were sitting on, their eyes locked on Quincy. “How many of those women do you think borrowed their nieces or nephews just so they could see Quincy?”
Roni noticed a few other women sitting on chairs, some with babies or toddlers in their lap, and there was definitely a difference between them and the whisperers. “Do you blame them?” Roni asked as casually as she was able, trying to ignore the jealousy clawing at her.