After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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I didn't rush to tell the girls about my date. I'd probably mention something if they asked, but the details and the little things were mine to cherish.
I felt protective of the connection Jim and I shared. Ridiculous? Maybe. Perhaps, it was all in my head. We hardly knew each other, after all. But then, there was Jim's interest in me, his thoughtful questions, his caring gestures, and the forehead kiss that didn't let me sleep at night.
The following day, I was in a daze, unable to focus on the book I was writing, nor could I pay attention to the one I was reading. Jim was busy, but he called me twice. Once, in the morning, and then to say goodnight. At midday, he sent me a text, to which he attached a picture of my manuscript.
I was just as distracted today. Luckily, the person sitting across from me at my kitchen table was the one I could talk to without fear and reservations.
"So, two dates," Harper said, grinning.
"Yeah. And now I can't look at the kitchen counter without blushing."
Harper's eyes flared. "Damn, girl."
"Oh my God, no, nothing happened there," I rushed to say. "But Jim said he wanted to press me to it and taste the ice cream off my lips. That's what book guys say, Harper. That's some serious romance novel stuff there."
"Are you sure he's not a writer?" Harper curled her hands around the mug and studied my face.
"He said his last name was Eldridge. I googled Jim Eldridge and found nothing."
"Smart girl. Okay, let's recap. Green eyes. Polite. A gentleman. Didn't let you run away. Chose to talk to you instead of assuming things. He sounds perfect to me."
"And there's something else, but you have to promise two things: one, you won't freak out. Two, you won't get mad at me."
Harper put her hand on her chest and nodded. "Promise."
"I wrote a book." The words tumbled out of my mouth, and, without giving Harper time to process them, I said, "And Jim insisted on reading it, so I gave it to him."
"Wrote a book? Ava, but that's amazing! Why didn't you tell me anything sooner? I'm dying to read it. Pretty please!"
I smiled at Harper's enthusiasm. "I'll give it to you after Jim reads it. I want to know his opinion first."
"So, you've known Mister Coffee for two dates and already trust him more than me. Alright, then."
Harper pouted into her tea mug as she took a sip, looking at me over the rim — emotional blackmail at its finest.
"Don't be silly. I trust you. In my defense, I wasn't going to tell him anything, but he was just so…"
