I’ve read the whole book, so it’s fun to hear some of these early guesses.
Spoiler alert—it’s not the boyfriend.
Two other people agree it’s the boyfriend. Several other people think it’s the landlord who owns the farm house Jasmine’s renting with her boyfriend.
“It’s her mom.”
The group laughs at Eric’s response.
“The mom?” I chuckle.
“Sure.” He shoves a chip into his mouth. “Just an early guess.”
“Why do you think it’s the mom?” Freya asks.
“I don’t know. I read a lot of books. It’s hard to throw me off. This book feels …” He shoves two more corn chips into his mouth while leaving me hanging with how the book feels to him.
“It feels what?” I get tired of waiting.
“Sophomoric. If I’m wrong … if it’s not the mom … that will surprise me.”
“Drink up, everyone. There’s plenty of wine.” Freya passes more bottles of wine down the line.
“Moving on.” I force myself to stop glaring at Mr. Shits All Over My Favorite Book. “Character development …”
The good news? Everyone seems to like the characters—except Eric. After he calls Jasmine weak and gullible, I stop giving him opportunities to share his opinion. By the end of the evening, I can’t even look at him. His arrogance and terrible taste in literature makes me want to vomit.
“Where do you want the empty wine bottles,” Eric asks me as I toss some of the plates into a trash bag.
“Just leave them. You don’t need to help clean up.” Still … I don’t look at him.
“I want to. So … where do they go?”
Up your ass. All of them. You should shove them up your ass for being such a dick.
“In that box by the door. I’ll take them back to work to be recycled. Thank you, Eric. It’s really kind of you.” Freya wraps her full lips around his ego and blows so hard I fear she’ll pop him. “I’m going to grab some cleaner to wipe down the table, Anna.”
“Okay,” I mumble, brushing past Eric to set the trash by the door.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Nope.” I shuffle my flip-flop-clad feet over to the opposite end of the sky deck and start collapsing the sun umbrellas.
“Good. I was worried I somehow offended you.” He starts at the opposite end, helping me collapse the umbrellas. “I’m getting my first shipment of tees in the morning. What time do you get coffee?”
“I don’t go for coffee on Wednesdays.”
“Noted, but tomorrow is Friday.”
“I’m not drinking coffee at the moment. It’s too hot.”
“I bet they can make iced coffee.”
We meet in the middle at the last two umbrellas, forcing me to acknowledge him with an actual glance. “A date? Are you asking me on a coffee date?”
“Definitely.” White teeth peek out from his quirked lips. His eyes wander along my body.
“Are you checking me out?”
“Affirmative.” He chuckles after ogling my legs, my short denim skirt, and my tight sleeveless floral blouse.
“I’m not interested.”
His head cocks to the side. “In coffee or letting me check you out?”
“Listen, I’m not okay with how you tried to decimate our book club tonight. Your negative and speculative views of the book, after just eight chapters, were awkward and insulting.”
He squints, parting his lips a fraction. “O—kay. I offended you?”
I shake my head, scrunching up my face. “No. Of course not. Clearly other people are really enjoying the story. So when you’re so critical of the book, they feel judged.”
“Judged how?” He slides his hands into his front pockets.
“Like you think they don’t have good taste in books. When clearly, after tonight, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know a good story when it’s right in front of your face.”
“Whoa …” He takes a step backward like I gave him an invisible shove. “It’s just an opinion about a book. I’m not judging anyone. Diversity is beautiful. If everyone had the same taste in things, life would be pretty damn boring.”
“Well …” I start my rebuttal, but how do I argue with “diversity is beautiful?” Instead, I frown. Really … it’s a pout.
“If you think my opinions are too disruptive, I won’t come back to book club, but I still want to have coffee with you.”
God! He’s so … Ugh! I don’t know. Why does he have to wear cute shirts and say profound things that make it hard to stay mad at him?
“I think dating someone who lives in my building is a bad idea.”
Rubbing his kissable (yes, they’re kissable) lips together, he nods slowly. “I see. So let’s have coffee. It won’t be a date.”
“I pay for my own coffee, right?”
He smirks. “Anna, I was going to make you pay for your own coffee even when we were calling it a date.”
My jaw unhinges to say something. What? I’m not sure. Should I be offended? Should he be offended that I was presumptuous? “Now you’re just being a dick.”