Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“That’s nine inches?” My head tilted as I considered one of the lines he’d drawn. “Huh.”
“Has porn warped your sense of proportions?” Finn’s laugh was mischievous and made the back of my neck heat up.
I made a sputtery noise. The flirting idea might have been overly optimistic, as my sense of humor seemed as rusty as the rest of me. “I don’t…”
“Sure you do.” Finn winked as he stacked the marked-up boards next to the saw.
“Well…I don’t generally discuss it.” I swallowed hard because he made me want to try.
“Kinda like you don’t want anyone knowing you read books with naughty parts?” He gestured to the book he’d set on one of the work benches.
“Some things feel…private. It’s not that I’m ashamed. I’m…”
“Buttoned up tight. And all I’m saying is you could undo a collar button or two. Life might be more fun.”
He wasn’t wrong, and I’d heard similar advice more than a few times. However, something about Finn made me actually want to try, made me want to see who I could be if I relaxed a few of my rules.
Chapter Seven
Finn
At some point, and I wasn’t entirely sure when, I’d decided rattling Harrison was too much fun to deny myself. Life was too short to be in a perpetual bad mood, and I was the one who’d invited him to make the shelves with me. I might as well make the most of it, and if that meant letting myself flirt, so be it.
As I readied the saw to cut our stack of wood, Harrison hung back like the saw might grow arms and try to pull him in at any moment.
“I feel a bit superfluous.” Harrison darted his gaze around the workshop.
“You can stack the cut pieces as I hand them to you.” I liked directing Harrison, liked how quickly he moved to where I pointed. “Feel free to keep talking, though. I appreciate the company.”
“How did you discover historical romance anyway?” Harrison sounded more curious than skeptical. “It’s a bit of a leap from classic mysteries.”
“Ah. You haven’t seen the main house yet.” I laughed as I turned on the saw, but the idea of Harrison exploring the house where I’d grown up wasn’t without appeal. I could show him all my favorite places, and he’d observe in that intense way he had—like no detail escaped his notice. “There are books all over the house. Decades of books. My grandpa used to joke that all the books act as insulation, keep the heating costs down.”
“My father used to complain that Mom couldn’t see a blank wall without envisioning a bookcase.” A fond expression crept over Harrison’s face as we kept talking in between cuts. I liked when he talked about his dad because it made me feel less alone in missing mine all the time. “And he wasn’t wrong. After he died, Mom and I moved to a new place in the Village and the first thing she did was install floor-to-ceiling shelves in the living room.”
“You’ll like our house, then. Even the stairs have shelves. And mysteries are my mom’s thing, but my grandmother was a devoted romance reader.” As I handed Harrison another shelf support, I smiled at the vision of my grandmother and the stacks of paperbacks that had seemed to follow her like a trail of breadcrumbs. “I liked her stories about the Lake District in the UK where she grew up, and I always enjoyed historical fiction, but I got tired of dismal endings.”
“Oh, yes. I went through a nonfiction phase, and later, biographies, but I agree on depressing endings. War is fascinating, but all the death and despair are rather heavy bedtime reading.”
“Yeah. And guys like us, we’re always first to be offed.” I punctuated that statement by zipping through another board. “So, I gave some of her old Regencies a try. Happy endings are better.”
“I feel that.” Harrison was extremely precise in how he stacked the cut boards, matching sizes without being told, keeping everything perfectly aligned. “Of course, I still check out the literary winners—”
“Just own it. You like the happiness factor.” I certainly did. Life was full enough of hardship and unexpected heartbreak. It wasn’t too much to ask my fictional escapes to not be all doom and gloom.
“Maybe.” Harrison’s cheeks were that adorable shade of pink again.
“A few years ago, my e-reader recommended a Regency with two men as the central romance. I had no idea there was a whole genre of authors writing queer romance, including historicals.” Boards done, I started gathering supplies for the next step.
“I remember that feeling when I discovered the genre as well. It’s…powerful. Being seen like that. Validated.” Harrison moved aside so I had room at the workbench where he’d stacked the cut boards.
“Exactly. I was hooked. Mainly I consume those titles as e-books or audio, but I do try to support the print offerings too. Gotta add to the insulation.”