Donna didn’t call Jacob. She didn’t text him either.

She couldn’t help thinking it was one big practical joke at her expense. Maybe his wife really had read her book and left that note. Or maybe he’d found a used copy at somebody’s garage sale and seen the name on the dust jacket.

Loving Amber and then losing her has made me rethink a lot of things. I’d like to be your friend.

She kept his note folded in her pocket for a week straight.

On a Tuesday when Gram had a particularly hard day and Donna had final proofs due to be turned in to her editor by midnight, she found herself at the local bar and grill. It was the only place in town where she could get a cheese slider and a double order of onion rings at this time of night. She should be at home with her nose to the computer screen, but she’d given herself a short reprieve. She needed those onion rings. She’d get finished. She always did.

The place was almost empty. She waited at the counter for a high school girl to bring her order, trying to pretend like she hadn’t seen Jacob and two of his buddies at a nearby table. The only other patrons were a group of four college-aged kids shooting pool in the back corner.

The piped-in music wasn’t playing that loud, so it wasn’t hard to overhear Jacob’s buddy Sly when he spoke.

“Look there. It’s old nose-in-a-book Donna.”

She studiously kept her gaze on the wall-mounted menu behind the bar. Heat crept into her cheeks at the moniker she hadn’t heard since high school.

She’d been terribly shy and even more awkward. Gram had been the sweetest, kindest parental figure, but she hadn’t known how to guide Donna through those tumultuous years. Donna had found solace in novels and often carried one around with her. Characters in her book wouldn’t leave her sitting at her lunch table alone. They wouldn’t snicker behind her back in class if she were wearing an unfashionable pair of jeans.

A part of her wished she had a book in hand right now. She did if she counted the thousands of ebooks accessible through her mobile device.

But she’d left her phone tucked in her purse. Surely it couldn’t take that long to bring out her burger and rings. Where was the cashier?

Jacob’s younger brother Hank jumped into the conversation. “I heard she was writing books now. Maybe she can write herself a man who’d be willing to be seen with somebody as dowdy as her. Cause no one around here seems interested.” He broke off in chortles, and Sly joined him in loud guffaws.

Seriously, were they caught in a time warp? Still back in high school?

She didn’t care if her lucky pair of overalls weren’t cool. They were perfectly worn in, and she had a long night of editing ahead of her.

But her face still burned as she waited for Jacob to join in. They had to know she could hear every word they said.

What would his contribution be? A comment on her looks? She’d thrown her hair in a loose bun that was falling down now. She badly needed a cut and color.

Or would he hit her where it really hurt and mock her books?

“I’ve read her books.”

Crudoodles. Donna’s eyes closed. This Will Jacobs guy talks just like my Jacob. Maybe it had all been a joke to him.

But Sly and Hank’s laughter trailed off.

“You read trashy romance?” Skepticism rolled off of Hank in waves so big she could feel them from over here.

Where was her food?

“They aren’t trashy. They’re really good. Maybe you should borrow one. You could learn a thing or two and get a girlfriend instead of hanging out here with Sly every night of the week.”

Zing. Her heart raced as the insult to his friend registered.

Sly chuckled, but it was the scrape of a chair against the floor that sent prickles of awareness up the back of Donna’s neck.

Don’t look, don’t look.

She looked.

Jacob was heading straight for her, his stride confident and sure.

She turned to face the counter once again. Stood on her tiptoes to try and see through the small round hole in the door to the kitchen. There was no movement she could detect. Where was the cashier with her food?

Her face was on fire when Jacob stood at her elbow.

“How you doing? Get your tire fixed?”

“Yes, thanks,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to do that. Defend me.”

“Yes, I did. I should’ve done a lot more a long time ago.”

This time when she looked at him, she got caught in the intensity of his gaze.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe she was stupid.

Because she wanted to believe him.

“You didn’t really read my books, did you?” She hadn’t meant to ask that.

But now it was out there. And his eyes crinkled at the corners, which made them seem even bluer.

“I really did. And I liked them.”

The way he was looking at her made her imagine subtext that couldn’t possibly be true.

I like you.

She had to look away from those blazing eyes. And by some miracle, there was the cashier with a brown paper bag in her hand.

She took it with a soft, “Thanks,” and then hesitated. Her awkwardness rushed back in full force.

Should she say good-bye? Thank him for reading her books? Say something else? What should she say?

He touched her elbow, and it was too cliché, and she’d never write it into her books, but sparks traveled from the spot where his fingers touched and all the way down her spine to her toes.

“Maybe I’m wasting my time. You didn’t call me.” He smiled a little wistfully. “But you can’t blame a guy for trying. Would you go out with me sometime?”

And she was so flustered that she blurted the first thing that popped into her brain. “Yes.”