Page 43 of Long Story Short

He gives me a satisfied grin as he increases the pressure of his leg against mine. “I can help with that.”

I look at my lap for a moment, unable to maintain eye contact with him for another second. My heart hammers against my chest, and my entire body is hot, and it isn’t because of the sun. It’s because of him and the way he makes me feel.

“Maybe last night was your one shot at kissing me,” I offer. It’s a lie. If he wanted to, he could lean across the table right now, and I’d gladly let him. I’ve gone from wanting to keep him at a distance to focus on writing this book to basking in his attention and reveling in the way he lights a spark inside me I hadn’t even realized had been dimmed.

Tyson clicks his tongue. This time, when he shifts in his chair, he brings his other knee against mine. Now, his thighs engulf either side of me, completely caging my legs in. Not that I mind.

“Josie, we both know that wasn’t my only chance to kiss you.”

I play with the hem of my dress in my lap as I let his words sink in. He’s right. I was just hoping that maybe I hadn’t been so obvious about how badly I wanted him. “You sound so sure about that.”

“Because I am.”

My gaze meets his as a confidence I’ve never felt before courses through me. “Then kiss me.”

TWENTY-FOUR

TYSON

My pulse thrums erratically. Josie telling me to kiss her might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

I force myself to look away from her to check our surroundings. The patio is even more full now than it was minutes ago, when we were seated. If I kiss her right now, it’d be for everyone to see. While I don’t necessarily mind the chatter, I know I shouldn’t. We’ve only just met and started spending time together. The last thing I want is the opinions of others, or gossip, to get in the way before things with Josie even really start.

But fuck, I want to kiss her. I want to pull her into my lap at this very table and finally figure out what she tastes like. I’m desperate to kiss the lip gloss right off her mouth. And I will. I’ll do all of that, but not here. Not in public.

I wipe my hand over my mouth, trying to ignore the way my pants are suddenly tighter underneath the table. I can’t help but wonder if she’s even aware of the effect she has on me. “I will. But I’d prefer to not have this many witnesses the first time I devour your mouth with mine.”

Josie watches me carefully. I want to know what’s running through her mind. Is she disappointed? Would she really not care if I kissed her here for everyone to see? I know she’s mentioned she doesn’t spend a lot of time with the people in this social circle, but I’d still be shocked if she was okay with me kissing her in front of everyone for the first time.

She doesn’t say anything, and before I can think better of my choice, I change the subject. “Tell me more about you, Josie Russell.”

If the redirect bothers her, she doesn’t say anything about it. Her full lips—the ones I’m still fantasizing about—spread into a soft smile. “What do you want to know?”

“What got you into writing?” I ask, the question rolling off my tongue instantly.

Her cheeks puff out a little as she thinks. She folds her arms over her chest. “We haven’t even eaten yet, and you’re already asking the deep questions.”

I trace my finger over the space between my nose and top lip. “Is the question deep?”

Josie nods. “Yeah, for the most part.” She sighs as her hands fall to her lap and absentmindedly play with the hem of her dress. “When I was young, my parents passed away. I don’t really have memories of them. I was raised by my grandparents.”

I swallow past a lump because now I feel terrible for asking about it in the first place. I’ve always known about Arthur Russell—he’s a legend in my line of work—but I didn’t know anything about his personal life. I didn’t even know he had a granddaughter until I met Josie and she divulged who she was. “I’m sorry,” I croak, knowing the words don’t do anything to help, but needing to say them anyway.

“My grandparents stepped in effortlessly. Again, I don’t really remember anything besides them raising me. As I grew up and realized my family dynamic wasn’t like my friends’, I started to ache for the family I didn’t have. I loved my grandparents, but I couldn’t help but picture what it was like to have parents and grandparents. I’d picture what it’d be like if my parents were alive and what we’d do, and before I knew it, I started writing it out. I’d write one story after the next, outlining all these adventures I envisioned happening if I just had parents who hadn’t died too young.”

I let her words sink in. I don’t know what answer I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the reason she gave. My heart aches picturing the child version of Josie writing just to have the chance to imagine what it’d be like to have a mother and a father.

A guilt settles deep in my chest, knowing how both of my parents are still around, and I speak to neither. When Winnie and I stole Bishop Hotels from under our father’s nose, not only did it enrage our father, but our mother never forgave us for it. I wonder what Josie would think of me ignoring my father’s calls recently. Would she judge me for it? Or would she understand why I haven’t brought myself to answer?

Josie grabs her glass of water and brings it to her lips. Her gaze stays pinned on me as she takes a drink. As her hazel eyes study me closely, I wonder what she’s looking for. Whatever it is, I hope she finds it.

I let her words settle for a little while longer before I let out a long breath. “Wow,” I begin, sitting up in my chair. I reach across the table and place my hand over her free one. “I’m sorry again for asking a question that was so heavy.”

She gives me a warm smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing the story. I’m flattered you cared enough to ask. I can’t remember the last time someone asked how I got started.”

“Did you always know you wanted to be a writer, then?”

Her smile grows. “Yes. I thought Pop would disinherit me when I made the official decision to pursue a writing career instead of taking over the company he worked so hard to create.”