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Her flush deepened. “Well, it’s one thing to kiss a stranger. It’s totally different when you’re kissing someone you love.”
Her remark twisted inside him the wrong way, like a corkscrew. He couldn’t stop his sudden anger over the ideas of her both seeing him as a stranger and kissing another man.
“You would know, huh?” His voice had an edge. “What about when you find out the guy youloveis a dirtbag?”
Her eyes widened. Sam groaned.Way to be an asshole yourself, genius.
“Brooke…”
She held up a hand and backed toward the blanket fort. “At least I know what it feels like to be in love. Maybe that’s a big part of your problem right there. You’ve never been in love. You can’t write what you don’t know.”
She pivoted on her heel and ducked into the blanket fort, snapping the door closed behind her.
Sam dragged his hands over his face. He’d never bought the idea that writers had to know everything they wrote about. But he hated the idea that Brooke might be right.
