Page 35 of Long Story Short

“Home,” he answers simply. He loosens the tie around his neck, and why is that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?

“Home,” I repeat, staring at him, dumbfounded, as I try to process if I’m hearing him correctly.

He gives me a knowing look as one side of his mouth curls upward. “Yes, home.”

“Why?”

“Because, Josie, you’re looking very inspired. Now it’s time for you to write.”

“Write?” I ask, not bothering to hide the disbelief.

Tyson nods before reaching to grab my laptop and handing it to me. “I know you’re inspired. Use it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I shake my head. It feels like a bucket of cold water has been tossed on me. I was so desperate for him to kiss me. It seemed like he wanted it too. I definitely never expected him to just get up and leave. And I especially didn’t expect him to tell me to work.

I toss my laptop onto the couch cushion as I stand up. “You’ve been telling me I work too much, and now, when I’m on the couch basically begging you to kiss me, you’re leaving so I can write?”

He casually tucks his hands into his pocket as his cocky smirk only grows. “If that’s your version of begging, then I can’t wait to show you what actual begging looks like.”

My mouth snaps shut because I’m now incredibly interested in what he means by that.

We stand in the middle of my living room, both of us staring at each other while neither one of us says a thing. The moonlight filters in through the windows, bringing a sliver of light to Tyson’s face. It highlights his sharp cheekbones and pronounced jawline perfectly. My fingers twitch at my side as I fight the urge to close the distance between us and trace the sharp lines with my fingertips.

Finally, Tyson clears his throat. “As much as I want to keep distracting you tonight, I know you need to work. Use what you’re feeling right now and put it into the book. You’re going to finish this book in six weeks or less and hopefully I helped with that tonight.”

He takes a step closer to me, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of my head. He coaxes my face up to look at him. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he announces, his words coming out effortlessly.

“What’s happening tomorrow morning?”

He swipes his thumb along my bottom lip. “We’re having breakfast together so you can start the day out with a proper meal.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head and presses his thumb against my lips to stop me from speaking. “No arguments. I’ll see you in the morning, Josie.”

He leans in even more as his thumb finds the corner of my mouth. Just when I’m going to feel his lips against mine, he kisses his thumb instead.

A small gasp escapes when it hits me that he didn’t kiss me.

His hand drops to his side, and he walks toward the front door as if two minutes ago I wasn’t staring at his mouth, begging him to kiss me.

I don’t move. I can’t. I watch him open the door and leave without moving a muscle. My entire body is still flushed, making the loss of his touch and presence that much more obvious. The cold air hits my warm skin, making me shiver as I wrap my arms around myself.

I don’t know how long I stand there. I know it’s long enough for Mouse to get up from wherever he was and twist his body through my feet as I still stare at the door Tyson just left through.

My mind races as I try to figure out if I’m upset with him for leaving me like this or if I’m even more attracted because of his determination to help me finish this book.

Hours later, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about Tyson leaving as I’m hunched over my laptop with my fingers flying over the keyboard, more inspired to write than I’ve ever felt before.

TWENTY

TYSON

I balance two trays of coffee in my hands as I make my way over to Josie’s house. It’s almost ten in the morning, and I’m still a little nervous about whether it’s too early to be dropping by. I told her I was coming, but I have no idea how late she was up and if she was too stunned by me leaving last night to shut me down about having breakfast together this morning.

I come to a stop on her front porch. As I stand here with my hands full of a variety of coffees, I realize that it might be a good time to get her phone number. This morning would’ve been a lot easier if I could’ve texted her asking about her coffee order and setting up a time for breakfast. But on the flip side, with me showing up on her doorstep, it’ll be a lot harder for her to say no to breakfast, whereas she might’ve let me down easy over texts and told me she changed her mind about it.

I take a deep breath, my mind flashing to last night. I desperately wanted to kiss her. And I almost did. Our lips were not even an inch apart. It was obvious she would’ve let me too, which only made me want her more. I’ve never craved the taste of someone I’ve never even kissed the way I crave her, but there is something to be said for anticipation. Last night, she made it obvious that she didn’t share a real connection with the last man she was with. I now have this intense desire to show her what a real connection feels like, and to do that, I want to take my time.

I shuffle the drink carriers around in my hands just enough to knock on her door. My knuckles hit the wood three times before I’m fixing my grip on the coffee tray once again. I try to ignore the way my pulse spikes and my stomach drops with nerves.