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“Why, Mr. Kingman. Is that a rooster in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Quit being so adorable and sweet. Now feed me and tell me I’m pretty.”
A thousand and eleventy-hundred pictures later, and we finally made it within a yard of the restaurant. I looked at Chris and shouted, “Fries before guys,” and bolted inside the restaurant.
“I see my number one is keeping you company. He keeping his hands to himself?” Mr. Kingman asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. It felt like being simultaneously hugged and threatened by a bear.
After a moment, Chris cleared his throat. “Sorry about my dad, Trix.” “Your dad’s awesome,” I managed to choke out, trying to regain my composure. He was terrifying and comforting at the same time, like a freight train wearing a teddy bear costume.
“Well, maybe he’d be willing to help out for a worthy cause. But I won’t be putting my boyfriend, Chris Kingman, up for auction.”
Bring it on, high school reunion. The Kingman team was ready to play. I was going to win Beatrix Moore’s heart or die trying. Ooph. My heart definitely skipped a beat. That had better not be a bad omen. I needed to go find my lucky socks to wear to this damn reunion.
Some people were just kindred spirits, as Anne of Green Gables would say. Chris and Lulu were mine. Didn’t matter if we didn’t talk for a few hours or a few years, we just picked right back up where we left off.
Chris Kingman wasn’t nervous about anything ever. He was confidence and grace, like Miss United States.
“He’s just an old romantic. Likes to make sure the hens he loves are protected,” she said, her voice soft and thoughtful. “I expect you’re the same.”
“I told you to be natural, not a fucking lovesick snail. Come on, Chris. You’re the star quarterback.”
Good grief. How was this man actually a librarian? I clenched my teeth, holding in my tirade. He wasn’t the only librarian I knew who thought the whole romance genre was mommy porn. He was a literary snob, and I wanted to slap him in the face with every book my favorite romance authors had ever written.
“Yes, you’re mine, and I’ve waited a long time for you. So be a good girl and kiss me again like you know you belong with me.”
until I made it to my very favorite curve of hers. The curve of her smile.
“Tentacle? Did your life just become a monster romance? Like, by day he’s the quarterback for the Denver Mustangs, and by night, he’s your tentacled lover?”
“We’ve only got one life, kid. Better to start spending it with someone who makes you ridiculously happy sooner rather than later, because we never know how long we get with them.”
“What did you say to get those crazy reporters to listen to you?” I didn’t think anyone else could have done that besides this mountain of a man with the presence to match. He raised one eyebrow with an evil grin. “I just asked them if this was the lawn they were willing to die on.”
To me, there was nothing more powerful than a confident woman who didn’t take shit from anyone.
“Take up space, Beatrix. Don’t apologize, and don’t let the world shame you for being you.”
Take up space, Beatrix. Don’t apologize, and don’t let the world shame you for being you.
