Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

“Tamra?” a deep voice asked.

I turned around to see the rumpled man from the corner table. Up close, his blue eyes and strong features exuded an intensity that had me wishing for a personality transplant that would make me brave enough to ask a perfect stranger to accompany me to Nick’s wedding. There’d be no pity from my female relatives after they caught sight of my arm candy. Realizing he’d called me by name, I struggled to place him. Surely I wouldn’t have forgotten a man so handsome.

“Hi, sorry. Have we met at the hospital?” I asked. The man’s eyebrows crept up his forehead in confusion. “Umm, no?” he responded tentatively.

It was my turn to experience bewilderment. “How do you know my name?” I asked.

He was silent a moment and looked prepared to bail, like he was going to turn back around and return to his table without answering. A beat later, he took a deep breath and said, “I’m Chase. And Virginia. It’s nice to meet you.”

He stuck out a hand to shake mine. His large hand with hung in the air between us. Disappointment flashed across his features when I didn’t immediately reach my own out, and it jarred me into action. As fantasy men went, I’d leaned too hard into the Santa Claus image, when I should have been picturing a rumpled professor. I clasped his hand in mine, heat radiating from the contact.

“Hi, I’m Tamra, obviously. But you already knew that,” I rushed.

My face flushed. Did he realize he’d surprised me with his appearance?

He nodded and looked down at his feet, but eventually brought his blue gaze back to mine. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed by my real identity. I wasn’t sure how to reveal that Virginia Rothman is my pen name. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me anyway.”

His uncertain demeanor soothed some of my discomfort from our awkward introduction. If he’d been brazen or demanding, it would be easy to write him off as a jerk.

I mumbled, “of course,” and sank into my default mode anywhere outside the hospital. Silence. He was a surprise. Younger than I anticipated. Handsome in a distracted genius sort of way. I wasn’t sure how to react or what to say after his apology, so I said nothing. I didn’t think it was cool that he wasn’t authentic with his fans, but I didn’t want to jump to judgement. Chase ran his hands through his hair, and I understood why it looked like he’d styled it with a leaf blower.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee and a snack?” he offered. “I was hoping to treat you as a thank-you for sharing some of your nursing experience with me. What would you like?”

I held back a smile. Sugar and caffeine. He knew the way into a woman’s good graces.

“Chai sounds good to me. Are the cinnamon rolls as good as they smell?”

He nodded and a small smile cracked his serious expression. “They’re incredible. Cassie heats them up, and they’re warm and gooey like a hug.”

I smiled tentatively. “Okay, then. One of those too please. Shall I join you at your table? I think I saw you in the corner over there?”

“Sure, if my clutter won’t bother you. I’ve been working here all day.”

I wove through the tables toward his laptop while he went to the counter to place our order. I only bounced off two chairs on my way to my destination, mumbling apologies as I went. That was going to bruise later. Apparently, I left all of my grace on the dance floor. Thinking about the man behind me was distracting me from the obstacles in front of me. I sank into the chair opposite the one Chase had occupied and tried to decide what to do with my hands. I didn’t have a cup of my own yet, and my hands were restless. I glanced up to the front counter. He’d finished paying for our treats and was waiting to bring them back to the table.

I had struggled to produce a mental image for Chase since learning that Virginia Rothman was male. Other than a little online dating, it was my first time meeting an online friend in person. Chase kept scrambling my expectations. Sisterly friendship vibes to benevolent wish granter hadn’t been that big a leap, but I wasn’t ready to move him from maybe-a-friend, to someone who was also no-questions-hot.

Attraction had no place here. None. I wasn’t sure who I was giving the stern talking-to, probably my hormones, most definitely my breasts. Unconsciously, I had sat straighter, and by consequence the girls were announcing themselves proudly to the world. I slouched into my chair and watched as Chase made his way back to our table. Seducing him into helping me with my favor hadn’t been part of the plan. While I could blame him for hiding his identity, my kindly Santa expectations were my own fault.

He accomplished the distance to our table balancing two cups and a plate with no chair nudges. Already I resented his grace in person. It was pure jealousy. If I had tried that maneuver, something would have crashed to the floor.

Chase’s muscular forearm entered my field of vision as he set a cinnamon roll and large mug of creamy chai in front of me with a fork balanced on the plate. The smell was heavenly. Each roll probably contained a stick of butter judging from the rich aroma. I took a quick sip of my drink that nearly burned the roof of my mouth off as he sat down.

“Son of a bitch!”

It was like I hadn’t been drinking hot liquids for decades. I couldn’t hold the curse back; the pain fired down my nerve endings. Chase visibly jolted in his chair and must have thought I was swearing at him. He looked like he was going to bolt before he remembered all his stuff was still here.

“Sorry about that,” I wheezed. “I burned my mouth.