American Honey

I glance around at all the books on her shelves. “Do you have a paperback?”

She gasps and looks up at me. “My paperbacks are signed.”

My brows furrow so she explains, “If you read one of those, you might crack the spine.”

“That sounds like a bad thing,” I hedge, even though I’m not certain I understand why that’s a bad thing.

Her attention turns back to the box, and after another moment of shuffling through it, she brandishes a small tablet victoriously. “Found it.”

Her face is a picture of elation as she crosses the room toward me and pats my arm. “I’ll hook it up to my charger while we paint and it should be good to go for you to read tonight.”

Following her back out to the kitchen, I ask. “Tonight?”

She stills and I almost walk into her. Her face turns so I only see her profile and she nods solemnly.

Guess I have homework tonight. After she plugs the eReader in, we get back to painting. Her kitchen isn’t overly large, and since we’re not painting the cabinets, of which there are many, it does not take us long to get the first coat up. We share lunch on her screen porch while it dries.

“So what kind of book would you prefer, heavy steam or low steam?”

I drop my elbow on to the table and rest my chin on my hand. “This your way of telling me you edit dirty books?”

She blushes which is a definite yes.

“I want to read whichever one is your favorite.”

We finish lunch and head back inside to do the second coat. When we’re finished, it looks great. Sure, it needs to dry, but a coat of paint is always an easy way to change the look of a place. She pulls the tape as I pack the other supplies up.

“I’m going to go wash the brushes outside.”

“I’ll come along with you,” she says, following me.

I use the hose, the overspray getting her legs, making her dance away with a squeal. Painting has never been fun, but somehow with Bethany, it didn’t feel like a chore. We leave the brushes and roller heads outside to dry and head back into the kitchen. There are still things I need to take care of on the farm, so I start to take my leave.

She stops me, unplugging the tablet and pushing a few buttons. “This eReader has an awesome battery life, so you should be good. The book I want you to read is opened to page one.”

She goes on to point out how to change the font size if the text is too small.

“Thank you, Bethany. I look forward to reading this.”

“Guys who read are sexy.”

Excuse me?

Either the room just got warm or I’m blushing. “Good thing I like to read.”

“I can’t wait to hear what you think of it. Are we still on for dinner Tuesday night?”

Tucking her eReader under my arm, I grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

If she still lives here in six months, I’m so asking her out.

***

This book is hot as hell. I realize I am alone in my cabin, but I still glance around to make sure no one can see that words on a page just gave me a hard-on.

Words on a page.

My