This makes her genuinely laugh. It’s a rich, full-bodied sound that projects all the way from her toes. “With book boyfriend arms like that, it’s no wonder.”
“Book boyfriend?” I ask curiously.
“Book boyfriend,” she repeats. “The leading male in a romance novel that readers claim ownership of because he doesn’t likely exist in the real world. Basically, the ideal man.”
“I’ve never heard this term before,” I admit, leaning back against the wall and eyeing her curiously. “I take it you’re into books or something?”
“Or something.” She smiles and runs her hand through her wild red waves. They have to be natural because no girl would touch hair that beautiful if it had been styled. “And it doesn’t surprise me you’ve never heard of it.” She leans in and whispers loudly, “You’re not my demo.”
I frown curiously, and with a parting wiggle of her eyebrows, she turns and resumes her walk down the alley toward wherever she was going. After staring at the globes of her ass for far longer than is appropriate, it dawns on me that I didn’t even get her name.
Cupping my hand to my mouth, I yell after her, “What if you’re my demo?”
She twirls on her heel to gaze at me, looking a hell of a lot more graceful than she did earlier. “We won’t know that until The End!”