Page 23 of Unearthed Dreams

“Yep, a little boy.” Her smile widened. “Tyler.”

“Do you want kids?”Where the fuck did that come from?

Charlie snorted a laugh, and a grin stretched across my face at the sound. “No way. I enjoy my peace and quiet way too much to have a screaming kid running around. My books are my babies.”

Fuck,when was the last time I smiled this much?“I know what you mean.”

She matched my expression, cheeks flushing that pretty pink I’d come to crave. “You here for the next ACOTAR book?”

“Hmm. I was thinking something else.”

Her shoulders dipped, and that little furrow appeared between her brows, somewhere between concern and disappointment. “Oh, you didn’t like it?”

“I did, actually. But I’dloveto read something with dragons,” I said, brows raised and looking pointedly at her manuscript pages.

“May I suggestFourth Wing?”

“You may not.”

She giggled, the tinkling sound warming me from the inside out. Then she let out a sigh. “You really wanna read it?”

“I do.”

Her tongue poked against her cheek as she thought it over—unaware of how fucking distracting that simple motion was.My cock jerked behind my zipper, begging to be the one to press along the inside of her hot mouth.

I shook my head slightly, chasing the lust out of my thoughts.

“Okay,” she relented. “You can read it, butonlyif you promise to give me your honest opinion. If it sucks, you have to tell me.”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” Then she gathered the pages, bound them with a black clip, and squeezed the stack to her chest before handing it over, like she was saying goodbye to her child.

My books are my babies.

“I’ll take good care of your baby.”

Charlie nodded, rolling her lips between her teeth, looking so unsure of herself. I ached to ease her worries. If she wanted honesty, she’d get it.

And honestly?

I was already fucking amazed by her.

“I see you got my note.”

“I did,” Charlie said as she slid onto a bar stool across from where I was pouring a round of beers for a few off-duty cops playing pool.

I’d taped a note to the back door of the bookstore, asking Charlie to meet me here after she closed the shop. Monday nights were slow, and I’d finished reading her manuscript the night before. To say I was impressed would have been a gross understatement.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, um, a Coke?”

“Is that a question or a request?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I feel like I should get a beer or something if I’m sitting at the bar, but I don’t really like drinking much.” Her nose wrinkled adorably, and I laughed, the sound increasingly less foreign the more time I spent in Charlotte Everton’s presence.

“There’s no rule that says you have to drink alcohol to sit here. You’re allowed to have a Coke, Charlie.”