Page 49 of Chasing Smoke

“I listened to the audiobook.”

“And that counts.” Greta nods, reassuring him. “Have a seat. We’re happy you could both join us.”

Ansel walks around me and sits in one of the empty chairs.

The ride over here was a little strained. Although I think Ansel understands where I’m coming from, he might not like going slow either. Or maybe he has his own reservations now that he’s had time to sit with the idea of the two of us. I could ask, but that’s not going to move us forward. I’d rather just work on getting through my list, and we can figure us out afterward.

I move into the circle, smiling at the other three ladies, and sit down beside Ansel.

“Collins, Ansel, this is Maude, Carrie, and Lisa.”

They each say a quick hello, and Ansel and I return ours.

Maude is most likely in her eighties, despite the fact that her hair has been dyed with streaks of purple and pink. Carrie and Lisa are eighteen-year-old best friends heading to college in the fall. They’re from Harvest Cove and make the drive here because their local bookstore has a book club, but all they ever discuss is literary fiction, which—according to them—is just mid.

I’ve never been a part of a book club before, but it’s pretty much what I expected. Everyone talks about their impressions of the book, what they liked, what they didn’t. Greta has some questions prepared that she wants to chat about, and even Ansel chimes in a few times.

It’s well-known around town that Greta got her boobs done a few months ago, and I’ve noticed that since then, she likes to show them off. I would too if I had a set like hers. Every time I see her around town, she’s wearing a tight-fitting shirt or something with a deep V that highlights them. Tonight she has more than a few buttons undone on her shirt, and every time she leans over to reach for her reusable water bottle on the floor beside her chair, she gives us all an eyeful.

Funny enough, I notice Ansel’s attention turn to the bookshelves after the first time. I catch his eye the third time, and we share a secret smirk. Which feels nice after the ride here.

As we get close to wrapping up, Greta claps her hands together with excitement. “Collins and Ansel, you’re new here, but we do something at the end of every book club where we each open the book to a random page, read that page, then discuss it as a group. We like the randomness of it. You never know what you’re going to get to chat about.”

The other three women nod and murmur their assent.

“Ansel, why don’t you go first?” Greta motions toward him.

He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Which, yeah, this is unexpected. “I listened to the audiobook, so I don’t have a paperback copy.”

“You can borrow mine.” I pass him my paperback copy that has all my annotations and sticky tabs in it.

He gives me a look like gee, thanks, and I struggle not to laugh. He clearly doesn’t want to do this—whether it’s the reading aloud part or the fact that it’s a romance or that he’s center stage, I don’t know. But it’s fun to watch him squirm.

Ansel opens the book to a random page and looks at it. “I’m not sure I should read this.” He looks up uncertainly and glances at Carrie and Lisa.

Greta waves away his concern. “Sure, you should. We’ve all read the book. Nothing is going to be a surprise.”

“Um…”

“Don’t be shy, Ansel.” Greta chuckles.

He clears his throat. “All right, uh… here goes nothing. Fuck, the idea of sinking into her, having my way with her, here, now, in the middle of the night is almost my undoing. But some small shred of decency I seem to have when it comes to her prevents me from doing so. My eyes snap open and meet hers. ‘Have you ever had a man feast on your cunt?’”

Carrie and Lisa giggle, and I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.

Ansel’s cheeks redden as he continues to look at the book with rapt attention. “My blunt words hit their target, and she blinks, momentarily stunned by my crass question. That’s nothing. If she only knew. ‘Um… yeah. A couple times in college.’ I scoff. ‘I’m not talking about some little college shit who doesn’t know what to do with his tongue. I’m talking about a man, a man who knows how to work your clit with his tongue like he’s a maestro. Who knows how to curl his fingers when he fucks you with them so that you see stars. A man who will lap at you like he’ll never be able to get enough of your taste. Who feels like he’ll die if you don’t come all over his face.’”

I press my thighs together, hearing his low voice saying dirty words.

“By the time I’m done talking, her pupils are practically blown out. Instead of scaring her off, I’ve done the opposite. I’ve turned us both on. ‘I’ve never had that,’ she whispers. ‘But I want it.’ Her hands slip up under my shirt, and she slides her shorts down until they land around her ankles on the grass. ‘Will you show me what that’s like?’”

I swear he could narrate audiobooks and all the women would be swooning. Has he always sounded like this?

“Jesus Christ. How can she be so sweet and sexy all at once? It’s a paradox I’m desperate to decode. The scent of her arousal wafts toward me, and my cock twitches. I have to taste her. I have to. Fuck the consequences. Because there are always consequences. But if she thinks she’s in control here, she’s wrong. I’m going to show her who owns her body.” He finishes the page, lifts his head, and looks right to me. He meets my eyes, a slow smile tugging at his lips, as though he’s daring me to pretend I wasn’t affected.

“Well done,” Maude says, breaking the spell, clapping.

I’m not sure, but I think I can speak for everyone in the room that it’s sad this will probably be the first and last book club Ansel attends.