"Yes, but I expected you to stand me up." She shrugs, shooting me an impish, unapologetic grin.
As if I'd ever stand her up. Every square inch of my heart is in her hands. She could lead me to hell, and I'd willingly follow.
"Come on." She crosses toward me, linking our fingers together to drag me into the center of the circle. "Book Club, meet River Jamison. River, meet Dirty Book Club."
"Book Club has a name?" I arch a brow at her. "Why is this the first I'm hearing it?"
"Probably because she didn't want you to know what kind of filth she has us reading every month," Olive stage whispers, earning laughter from half the group.
"Oh?" I arch a brow, curious as fuck.
"Ignore her," Jasmine says. "She has no idea what she's talking about."
"What kind of filth, princess?" I ask.
"Well," another old lady says when Jasmine just shrugs, "last month, we read Spankotron 3000."
"Spank-o-what?"
"Spankotron 3000," Olive says. "It's about a woman who falls in love with a machine that spanks and fu—"
I didn't even know Jasmine could move so fast until she's across the room, clamping her hand over Olive's mouth to muffle the rest of that sentence. Not that I need her to finish it. I can fill in the blanks.
"You been keeping secrets from me, baby?" I quirk a brow at Jasmine, grinning from ear to ear.
"What? No," she lies.
"Uh-huh." I just shake my head. It's fucking cute that she hasn't mentioned exactly what Book Club has been reading. I know damn well that it's not because she's embarrassed. I don't think she has an ashamed bone in her body. She wasn't built that way, and I fucking love her for it. I'm guessing she didn't tell me because she decided it just wasn't my damn business. "We're going to talk about this later."
"No, we aren't."
"Oh, we are."
A chorus of "ohhs" goes up from the group before Jasmine claps her hands together, calling them to order. "I didn't bring him here to talk about smut."
"Well, that's disappointing," Mrs. Braithewaite mutters to the woman beside her, looking me up and down. "I think I'd enjoy listening to this pretty thing talk about smut."
"Mrs. Braithewaite!" Jasmine growls, wheeling around to glare at her. "What'd I say about being inappropriate?"
"I'm just speaking the truth, dear," the old woman says primly, earning laughter from the assembled group.
Everyone except Loralei, anyway. She's in the back corner, staring into space, oblivious to what's going on around her. She looks…drained. I think Jasmine notices too because her eyes keep flickering toward the librarian, her expression full of worry even as she argues with Mrs. Braithewaite.
"He isn't talking about smut," Jasmine reiterates.
"Pity," Mrs. Braithewaite says, deadpan, earning more laughter from the group. Loralei doesn't even blink.
Jasmine glares at the old woman, but she can't hide the affection in her gaze. "I brought him here to talk about all of you and why you don't need permission to be the badass you are."
"Even if that badass likes smut about being spanked and railed by a machine," I add, my tone dry.
Jasmine shoots me a dirty look, but I just shrug. "You know I'm right, princess. Doesn't matter what the fuck you like, you don't need permission to like it. You don't need permission to chase your dreams, upend your life, or change the world, either." I glance around the group. "You're allowed to put yourself first. You're allowed to do whatever the fuck you want to do, and anyone who tries to make you smaller doesn't deserve you."
Loralei leans in like she's actually listening. For a moment, her bottom lip trembles before she bites it, stilling it.
Jasmine meets my gaze. I just give her a tiny shrug. Whatever is up with the librarian probably isn't my business, but fuck whoever upset her.
And good luck to him when Jasmine finds him because my girl is going to rip his throat out through his asshole. Judging by the way Olive and Lilah are watching Loralei, too, I think they might help.
