Talk Wordy To Me (His Curvy Librarian Book 1), Frankie Love [knowledgeable books to read .txt] 📗

“You run the senior book club with that mouth?” I ask, leaning closer to her.

“Oh, shush,” she says, but she’s giving me a coy smile and she raises one finger to her plump red lips. Yeah, there’s definitely more to this girl than meets the eye… and from the sparks that have been coming off her all night, I know she’s up for a little fun.

“What are you going to do, Miss Librarian?” I ask. “Fine me?”

“Oh, more than that,” she says, one corner of her lips curling into a smirk as her green eyes challenge mine. “I will Dewey decimate you.”

“Well, if that’s not an invitation to break all your rules, I don’t know what is,” I answer. Yeah, this blind date just got a whole lot more interesting.

Before I can push this any further, though, the waiter returns with our food and I take a long sip of water, cooling myself off so I can get through the rest of the meal. I’m just making a mental note to thank Gramps for this pleasantly surprising date when Cassidy asks, “So, speed dating lightning round—five questions. Don’t think, just answer. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Self-help.”

“Fiction genre?”

“No time.”

Cassidy pouts at that, but lets it go. It’s the truth. She asks, “Watch the movie without reading the book first?”

“Never.”

“Do you dog-ear your pages?”

“Only when I’m desperate,” I say, and I can already see the judgment in her eyes so I hurry to add, “Never library books, though.”

She smiles, satisfied, and there’s that fire in her emerald eyes again as she asks her last question. “How come your grandpa’s finding dates for you?”

“Because he’s a hopeless romantic,” I say. “He married the love of his life and he won’t be content until everyone around him has done the same.”

“Is that what you’re looking for?” she asks, and I hold up a chastising finger.

“That’s six questions.” She just shrugs and waits, so I give in and answer. “No, I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve got too much work to do… and I’m not as convinced about the whole soulmate thing as Gramps is.”

She nods. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

“For five questions?”

I think for a minute while I eat—I’ve got a juicy coq au vin, Cassidy’s having vegetable quiche. The questions don’t come as quickly to me as they seem to have come to her because it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date with a woman whose interests I actually shared. Who I was actually interested in. Finally, though, I’ve got it.

“Favorite book?”

“The Notebook,” she says, then immediately adds, “and if you pick on me about my gushy romance habits–”

“’I am nothing special, but I’ve loved another with my heart and soul, and to me that has always been enough,’” I paraphrase a line from the book, and Cassidy stops mid-sentence. I hope this hasn’t cost me a so-called Man Card in her eyes, but I can’t help it… it’s a good damn book.

“Wow,” is all Cassidy has to say, and now it’s my turn to interrupt.

Before she can comment on my secret Nicholas Sparks habit, I say, “Honestly, I only have one more question for now.”

“Which is?”

“Do you want to get dessert to go?” I ask. “We can eat it at my place, where I promise to think of three more questions for you.”

She smiles and glances over at the table where the lovebirds had been sitting. They’re gone now, and Cassidy nods eagerly. “Let’s go.”

5

Cassidy

Chuck’s house looks like something out of Architectural Digest. It’s all sleek lines and polished surfaces, with not an item out of place.

While he goes over to the bar to get a couple glasses and pour us drinks, I take it all in and say, “This is night and day compared to my parents’ house. You must have been internally pulling your hair out at all the clutter and knickknacks when you picked me up earlier.”

It’s not that my parents are hoarders or anything—they’ve just lived in that old farmhouse for the past thirty years and raised five daughters there. Nearly every square inch of wall space is filled with family photos, and there’s not a corner of the house that somebody hasn’t claimed for a reading nook, office space, or storage cubby.

Chuck smiles, those smooth, chocolatey eyes sweeping over me, as he comes over and hands me a whiskey neat, picking up where we left off in the restaurant. “Okay, here’s your next question: Is that what you want? The big family house, white picket fence, two kids, a dog?”

“Lord, no,” I say with a laugh that bubbles up my throat. “At least not for a long time. I am young and free and I intend to stay that way, thank you very much.”

He’s grinning now, that little half-smile that only curls up one corner of his mouth and has a way of making my panties damp. That, and the fact that he’s standing so close I can feel his body heat.

For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

I’d like that, I realize.

And then he says, “You’re not like most of the women I’ve been on dates with.”

“Oh?”

“They all want to settle down, and as fast as possible too,” he says. “They’re just after a ring, and sometimes it seems like it doesn’t even matter who from.”

“You’re right,” I say. “That’s not me at all. When I do get married, it’ll be because I can’t wait another minute, because I found The One, because I want to go adventuring with him, not settle down and be a boring old married couple.”

I’m being gushy again—he already told me he’s not sold on the whole soulmates idea—but I guess I can’t help it. The library at home contains a romance novel or two thanks to my mother, and I guess those ideas have rubbed off on me after all. Or maybe it’s the whiskey talking.

“We’ve still got dessert to eat,” Chuck says, and for a moment I wonder if he’s really talking