The Enemy: A Romantic Comedy (It happened in Charleston Book 2)

I have the greatest urge to hold our clasped hands in the air like I just won a boxing match and yell, “I’M HOLDING RYAN’S HAND!!!” at the top of my lungs for all of Chicago to hear.

And I act on that urge.

“Shhh, you loon,” Ryan says, yanking our hands back down.

He makes me promise I’ll behave when we go into the restaurant, and I agree, but only because I have one hand behind my back, fingers crossed. I’ll do as I see fit once we get in there.

I feel like I have a wild fox in my apartment. It’s sleeping now. She’ll probably eat if I carefully set out a nice breakfast and back away with my hands held up in surrender, but if she senses any sudden movement, she’ll bolt.

She slipped under my covers and burrowed into my side like a little bunny making a new home