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Today she’s wearing a snug blue cotton skirt that hug her long legs, and takes off her sweater to reveal a shirt that reads, “Book boyfriends do it better.”
I noticed her cat accents the first day I saw her in the library. It was paw earrings that day, a tail on her bag the next week, and today, a cat paw cuff. I love looking for where her homage to her favorite animal is for the day.
“Do they now?” I say leaning around my pile of books and point to her shirt.
“In my experience they do.”
“I think you need to up your experience then.” What am I saying? Does that include me? I guess I never was her boyfriend, but doesn’t one magical day count for something? Am I jealous of a shirt right now?
She’s blushing and fights back a grin.
“What do book boyfriends do that’s so good, anyways?” I ask.
“They communicate, they’re attractive, and they always…” she says trailing off.
So far, so good. I can do that. “What’s that last one? What do they always do?” I ask.
“Umm, they always open the door,” she mumbles.
I don’t think that’s the third thing.
I stand to pick up a pile of romance books I’ve been sorting and put it on the correct shelf behind me.
I walk back to find her laughing to herself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not the third thing, is it? About the book boyfriends always opening the door.” I sit back down and pull out another box. This one is full of pocket-sized paperbacks with bare-chested men gazing out at me. “Come on. Tell me the truth.”
She still doesn’t budge.
I hold up a small romance book that has a particularly revealing cover. The heroine has her hair wafting towards the castle behind her. A buff man is just wearing jeans and is grabbing her from behind.
Holding the book up to her, I say, “What does Fabio here do better?”
She laughs loudly and has a huge toothy smile. I haven’t made a woman laugh like that in years. It’s like pure honey. Sweet and sticking to me, I want to lick her off my fingers and hear her laugh some more.
“You got me,” she says.
I wish.
“I can’t lie while Fabio is watching. It’s fiction, but romance book boyfriends all do three things. They communicate, sometimes a little late, but they get there in the end. Somehow, they all have six-pack abs, even though nothing in their routine creates them, and they always make sure their lady comes first.”
She spills the truth and I drop Fabio.
“What? Too crass?” You can be crass with me.
“No. I just didn’t expect that.” I say, picking up the book and putting it on the shelf. “Is that what you want?”
I walk back over and see her eyebrows up high, and her mouth opening and closing.
“Everything okay over there?” I say, with a grin.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” She asks with hooded eyes.
I had plans to drive a few towns over to check out a tractor for sale, I’ve got to train the new ranch hand to wash the cows in the morning, and I’ve got to bail the hay in the barn. Tomorrow’s a busy day, but I say, “I can make some time if you need me.”
