Page 31 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

“No,” I say, surprised at how easily he reveals this and the gleeful look in his eyes.

“I spent hours here on a family trip. And you just named my favorite writers. Caroline Vienna and Alistair Edwin. I actually got a bunch of their books from this store,” he says, with a faraway gaze like he’s slipped into a memory—a very happy one. “So, it was... kinda interesting that you worked here.”

“A little kismet,” I say before I think better of it.

Because there’s no kismet with us. And what the hell? I don’t believe in kismet. I believe in work and putting in your time.

TJ gives a soft smile. “Yeah, it’s kind of cool that you work in this shop.”

“Are you going out tonight?” I blurt out.

His grin turns lopsided for the first time. His mouth is all kinds of crooked as he studies me. “I’m here right now. Why are you asking if I’m going out?”

I flap a hand at him. “Well, after you get your Agatha Christies. You look like you’re going out.” Ugh. I sound so flustered it must be obvious why I’m asking—because I’m a jealous, prying roomie.

“Nah. I just went to the gym after I went to—after I did some stuff.” There he goes again—not sayingwhat he’s doing. “So I showered after I worked out.”

Great. Now I’m picturing him at the gym, pumping iron, and getting all sweaty.

Everywhere.

Sweat dripping down that chest, between his nipples, then onto his navel, then his happy trail.

“Cool. Cool. I go to the gym too,” I say.

Then I want to smack myself.I go to the gym?Have I ever talked to a man before? Let alone one I know? I need to lock up my mouth and throw away the key.

“Gyms are good,” TJ says.

I’ve got to save me from me. I point to the mysteries near the back of the shop. “Let me show you the Agatha Christies.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to keep you from work,” he says, and maybe that’s a hint he wants to look at them alone.

It’s a reminder, too, that I need to do my job. As he heads to the shelves, I go to the other customers, helping them find some travel books, a photo book of London, and a cookbook.

I challenge myself not to steal a single glance at my roommate until I’ve rung up all the customers. Even then, I don’t look. I march over to the romances and reshelve the books that some customers left on a nearby chair.

At last, my eyes stray to him.

Oh. I didn’t notice he had on his laptop messenger bag when he came in, maybe because I was too focused on that shirt.

I grab my phone from my pocket to have something else to look at, and check for messages from Harry while I’m at it.

And hello gorgeous.

An email from Harry flashes across the screen. The subject line makes my pulse spike—Callback.

“Fuck yes,” I shout, reading the note quickly.

TJ spins around, then strides over. “Did you get a callback?”

“Are you a mind reader?” I ask, giddy with the news.

“The smile and thefuck yesgave it away,” he says, then offers a hand to high-five.

“Monday at twelve.” I smack his palm.

Before I can let go of his hand, TJ yanks me in close for a hug. “Congrats. I knew you’d crush it.”