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

practical scrubs. I thought Becca could be a friend. More classes together would give us that chance.

I had a message from Chase waiting on my phone when I checked it after class.

Chase: Have you figured out what you want yet?

Chase: For dinner, I mean.

I blushed a little, thinking about my fantasies from dance class. He’d inspired me, and I wondered if the feeling was mutual. Despite his tacked-on clarification, was he asking if I wanted him?

Tamra: Everything sounds good.

So much truth in three tiny words.

Chapter 15 - Chase

Jimmy and I met at the gym, and he couldn’t resist teasing me about my dinner with Tamra. “So, how’d it go, Mister Romance? Did you woo the lady?” he asked.

I shook my head at him. “You know it wasn’t like that. She’s helping me out.”

“Oh, yeah? What did she wear to dinner?”

“Clothes.”

“Was any cleavage on display?” he probed.

I nodded, and he pursed his lips and tilted his head. “I’m pretty sure she’s into you if the girls were on display. Women don’t come to a single man’s place with their boobs out unintentionally.”

Jimmy continued, warming to his topic. “I have a theory. If the boobs are on display and it’s not a natural place for said plumage, for example, a bar, then it’s premeditated boobage. That shit doesn’t just happen. Women are very aware of their cleavage game. If they’re unsure of you, they might reveal a hint. More likely they’re wearing something like a crew neck T-shirt to cover the girls up altogether. Maybe a turtleneck if you’ve really made them uncomfortable.”

Jimmy had obviously thought about women’s breasts and their meaning a lot. Which was saying something, as I was the one who wrote romance novels. My knowledge of women’s fashion was limited, and it probably showed in my writing. Should I be weaving more meaning into my heroine’s necklines?

I could see his logic and was trying to recall exactly what Tamra had worn when he asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be the authority on romance here? What about body language? What was it saying?”

“Keep away. It took her a long time to relax, and toward the end of the night she froze up again, but I think I understand why.”

“Did she have a deep, dark secret?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, just a favor to ask.”

“What was the favor? Did she want you to sign her breasts?” he asked with a smirk.

I shook my head harder. “No. I don’t think that’s a thing. I’m not Chris Hemsworth. She wanted to see if I’d go with her to a family wedding.”

It was Jimmy’s turn to shake his head. “Man, that sounds terrible. I hope you declined.”

“How could I? She’s helped me so much with my research. I can endure a couple of hours of family torture in return.”

Jimmy shuddered. “Torture may be more accurate than you think. Remember that woman, Emily, that I went out with for a while? She roped me into going with her to a family wedding. I thought it would put her in a romantic mood, so I said yes. We ended up getting stuck supervising five kids under ten the whole time. Total nightmare. It definitely did not set the mood for sex. I wanted to perform my own vasectomy by the time we were done.”

My response was deadpan. “Well, at least if I want a vasectomy after, my date is a nurse.”

It was my turn to grill him as we moved on to another workout station. “So, how was your date? Weren’t you meeting up with someone too?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yes, the beautiful Janine,” he said, drawing a curvy hourglass figure in the air with his hands.

“Knock it off. You look like you’re in an old LL Cool J video.”

His grin was mischievous. “Well, the ladies do love this cool J too. And I love them back.”

“Other than curvy, how was Janine?” I asked.

“Limber,” he added with a smile.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“If there is a God, yes.”

I laughed at his fervent reply. “So, have you made any plans, Mr. Cool?”

“We’ve been texting almost every day. Our schedules are just off.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“For limber, I can wait.”

WHEN I LOOKED UP FROM my computer, it was after seven. I got out of my desk chair and slowly straightened, stretching out the kinks in my spine. Jimmy was going to start calling me Old Man if I wasn’t careful. And he’d be right. Sitting so long wasn’t doing my aching lower back any favors.

I wandered into my kitchen to see what I had for dinner, scratching my stomach as I recognized how empty it was. Did I remember to eat lunch today? The fridge’s selection of beer, leftovers, and a jar of pickles made me doubt it. It was time for another grocery delivery. I also needed to menu plan for my dinner with Tamra. Luckily, the leftovers from my last culinary post were enough to scrounge for dinner.

I took out the glass container and opened it, inhaling deeply. Salty goodness. I’d made fried rice with ham and edamame. It was savory and healthy-ish. I smiled as I thought back to my post and Tamra’s response. I had a few others who routinely liked my posts or commented, but none that tried to emulate them like Tamra.

My post included a picture of the finished dish, garnished with cilantro. The green of the edamame and pink of the ham popped against the background of the brown rice. Both colorful and delicious.

Tamra had posted her version in response. It had looked ... edible. That was about the best I could say. The rice appeared crunchy in places and gummy in others. She wasn’t joking about needing cooking lessons.

I popped open a message and attached a picture of my leftovers.

Chase: Enjoying some leftover rice tonight. Looking forward to cooking with you on your next night off. What do you want to make?

Tamra: Sure. Rub it in. How about something simple that I could do