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KISS ME
KAT BAXTER
Kiss Me

Kat Baxter

Copyright 2021 by Kat Baxter

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or
organizations is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and
retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except
where permitted by law.

Edited by: Emily Beierle-McKaskle

Copyeditor: JADE

Book cover: Poppy Parkes

With regard to digital publication, be advised that any alteration of font size or spacing by
the reader could change the author’s original format.

Created with Vellum

 CONTENTS

Kiss Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Excerpt from Joy and Payne
Sweet Hearts books
About the author
 KISS ME

One night just won’t be enough

Colton
I didn’t go to my nemesis’ booksigning expecting to hookup with
his sister. Yet, that’s exactly what happened. Hannah is tall and
gorgeous with a voluptuous curvy body I want to devour. I want
more than one night, but it turns out, all she wanted was a fling…
Hannah
What happens in New York, stays in New York, right? It was just
supposed to a fling. One night with super hot, younger man and
then I’d get back to my normal life as a single mom in a small town.
Sure, one night with Colton might wreck me for other men, but he
(and his kisses) are hot enough that it just might be worth it.
Now, he’s saying he wants more than one night. Maybe he even
wants forever. I say he’s too young to know what he really wants.
But if he keeps this up, I just might start hoping I’m wrong.
 CHAPTER 1

Hannah

MY BROTHER IS FAMOUS. Like, he’s been on Good Morning America

famous. He’s a bestselling writer of scary books. I don’t read them. I
buy one copy each and donate it to the local library in our home
town. But I don’t do scary.
I’m not brave or bold. I tried that once and now I have a six-
year-old daughter to show for it. She’s the light of my life, but she is
also a bringer of chaos. She’s the reason I get out of bed every
morning with a smile, but also the reason my belly will never again
be flat.
Right now, though I’m dressed in real clothes with a push-up
bra on and make-up and matching shoes. Like an honest-to-God
adult who has a social life. As far as I can tell, I don’t have any food
stains on my clothes. I don’t even have any goldfish crackers in my
purse.
Abby, that’s my daughter, is with her grandparents for New
Year’s Eve. They’re the only connection she has with her father. He’s
out of the picture.
So back to me being dressed up and out in public. I’m here in
New York city with my brother, Eli and his girlfriend—nope fiancée—
because they got engaged like a hot minute ago. Eli is having a big
book signing and even though it’s New Year’s people are actually
here.
It’s pretty cool watching him be the big author up close and
personal. I’m used to him just being my big brother. All the women
here are fawning all over him, but he only has eyes for Joy. He’s
been like a new man since she came into his life.
 I wasn’t even planning on coming on this trip. I wasn’t too keen
on being a third wheel, but they both insisted. I think they just didn’t
want me alone on a holiday.
I’m leaning against the wall near the back of the room, rather
than in the crowd that’s sitting in the chairs. I wanted to save those
spots for his real fans. But I’m taking it all in. I had to peruse my
phone when he did the short reading because again, no scary for
me. Now though the audience is just asking him questions.
“So if you don’t like horror novels, why are you here?”
The quiet, deep voice comes from beside me. I glance over and
then have to tilt my head to look up. I’m tall for a woman, five feet
nine, but this guy towers over me. He’s got to be several inches over
six feet. When my eyes reach his face I gape.
He has the broad shoulders of a professional athlete and the
chiseled features of a male model—one of those guys with enough
scruff on their jaw to model flannel or advertise heavy machinery. He
looks like a man who knows how to wield a chainsaw.
But looks can be deceiving, because I recognize him instantly
and I know he doesn’t model or compete professionally. At least not
in a physical sport.
Despite that, I feel heat creeping into my cheeks and the
thudding of my heart ticks up.
Dammit, do not have a reaction to him. Him, of all people.
“Don’t talk to me,” I hiss, pulling my gaze from him to stare
blankly forward, so it doesn’t look like we’re talking.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I shoot a look in his
direction, hoping he’s at least moved away. But he’s still right there.
Next to me.
His eyebrows shoot up and he gives me a wicked grin. “Why
not?”
“Because you are the enemy,” I whisper.
He puts a hand to his chest and looks surprised. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re Colton Briggs and that,” I point at my brother,
“is Elijah Payne. The two of you are nemeses. Nemesis. Whatever.
The point is I am here for him, not you.”
 He chuckles and the sound is so low and intimate, it makes my
nipples harden. Well, that’s weirdly unexpected.
“You’re a spitfire. I like that.”
“Spitfire?” I roll my eyes. “Who says that?”
“I said that.” He jabs his thumb into his chest. “Colton Briggs.
And you are?”
I am tempted to not answer. But he’s clearly not going
anywhere and refusing to answer seems childish. “Hannah Payne.”
“Ah, now that makes sense. I know you can’t be Joy because
I’ve video chatted with her before.”
I nod. “Gingerbread house thing.”
“Horror house, but yes. So you must be the sister. Older or
younger?”
I narrow my gaze at him. “Well, that’s rude. You do not ask a
woman her age or her weight.”
His eyes take on a wicked gleam as they slide over my entire
body.
Oh good heavens, why does he have to be so attractive? He’s
got long hair that I’ve seen him wear in a man bun, but tonight it’s
around his shoulders in luscious brown waves that most women
would kill to have. He’s got several days’ worth of growth on his
face, but it’s not yet a full-blown beard. Just enough to make him
look scruffy in that rueful, carefree kind of way. Though he’s got a
green Henley on, I can see ink peeking out at the ends of his sleeves
and the top of the neckline.
He takes a step closer and leans down so that his ear is
dangerously close to my ear. His scent is all yummy man…hints of
spice and mint and sex. No, that’s not right. I just clearly have sex
on the brain. It has been a long time.
“Here’s what I think,” he says.
His breath flutters against my ear and my nipples tighten further
and it makes my clit throb. Evidently this man’s voice is the
equivalent of porn for me.
“I think you look like you’re old enough to know when a man is
hitting on you. And you look like the perfect weight for me to hold
up against a wall.”
 I suck in a breath and swallow wrong and end up choking on
my own saliva. Yes, folks, I am this cool. Try not to be jealous.
He pats my back and Eli looks up at me, then frowns when he
sees who’s standing next to me. One of the clerks from the
bookstore hustles over with a tiny plastic cup of water and a look
that seems to reprimand me for daring to choke during Eli’s Q&A.
Several people in the audience glare at me for interrupting him. And
now I’ve made an ass of myself in front of everyone.
I’m tempted to tell them they should get over themselves. My
brother may be stupid talented, but I remember when he was seven
and he used to cry during rainstorms because he was afraid of tree
branches.
Before I can muster my indignation, something unexpected
happens.
Colton’s big hand is no longer patting my back, he’s rubbing
soothing circles and it’s been so very long since a man has touched
me like this.
I wave my hand to let my brother know that all is fine, but he’s
got a laser eye aimed right where Colton’s arm disappears behind
my back. And now the other women in the room have realized who
else is here and I’m fairly certain there will be puddles of drool on
the carpet before the evening is over.
A couple of the women shoot me envious looks, like they think
I’m actually here with Colton.
Clearly, these readers have overactive imaginations.
Because this man next to me, while incredibly sexy and
obviously charming, is way too young for me. And no matter what
he said, I don’t believe he’s actually interested in me.
“I’m more than old enough. And I’m way too old for you. Why
aren’t you flirting with some of the pretty young things in the
audience?”
“Because when I stepped into this room, my eyes locked on you
and as far as I can tell, there are no other pretty women in sight.”
Oh wow. He’s good. I school my features into sardonic
skepticism, because I can’t let him know that. “I’m sure you say that
to all the women. But I’m old enough to know better.”
 “You keep mentioning your age. Why is that?”
I turn my head to face him and looking at him head-on is
dangerous. He’s so handsome I nearly forget what I was going to
say. And yeah, he’s tall. Like maybe six foot, five. And so broad. How
the hell does a man end up with shoulders like that when I know he
spends his days behind a keyboard writing scary stories just like my
brother?
“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play or if this is just
your attempt to goad my brother, but it’s not going to work.”
His gaze moves over my face, his lips quirking up, as though my
admission amuses him. “You’re gorgeous.”
I roll my eyes. Was I pretty once? Yeah, I guess I was. There
was a time, in my early twenties, when I got enough attention from
men to gratify my ego. Then in my mid-twenties, I got enough
attention from one man in particular to learn that attention from
men is an empty promise. So, yeah, he isn’t saying anything I
haven’t heard before.
So I arch a disdainful eyebrow in his direction. “I sit on my ass
most of the day designing websites and the spread of said ass
shows exactly that.”
I don’t add that I haven’t been on a date in nearly eight years
and I live in a town where I know everyone so there have been no
casual hookups in that time either. My flirting skills are as rusty as
the tricycle my daughter left out in the rain when she was three. And
that I still haven’t thrown away, because what single mom has time
for that shit?
His eyes sweep over my body again and linger on my hips, then
my boobs. I’m not a small woman. I’m what some would call big-
boned. I carry my extra padding fairly well because I’m tall, but the
truth is, I could definitely afford to lose probably fifteen pounds.
Okay, more like thirty, but no one has a scale here.
“What I hear is that you desperately need a man to spend some
time reminding you that you’re a desirable woman.”
I snort.
“And I’m offering.”
“Wow, don’t do me any favors.”
 He shakes his head and for once that cocky smile of his slips.
He leans in further. “Hannah, you’re the most beautiful woman in
this room. Fuck, I’m pretty sure you’re the most beautiful I’ve ever
seen. I’ve had half a hard-on since I laid eyes on you and I’m dying
to touch you, kiss you.”
I know better. God knows, I know better.
Still, I feel the heat of his words working their way under my
skin, painting pictures in my mind.
Despite myself, my gaze flickers in the direction of his groin. Not
that I have to look to guess at the size of that half hard on he
mentioned. A guy this this? This tall, this broad? Yeah. I’m guessing
basic biology means he’s proportional.
Suddenly, I feel a little light headed. Like maybe I’ve been
subconsciously holding my breath, imagining his cock.
Which is just silly.
But, still … when was the last time I saw a naked man in
person?
Actually, I don’t have to wonder, because I know exactly. Abby’s
sperm donor had come over, late one night, hoping no doubt for a
quick hook up. He was mostly naked when I blurted that I’d just
realized I was pregnant.
Pretty sure no man in the history of the world has gotten
dressed that fast. If he’d been a cartoon, he would have left a male-
shaped hole in my door as he fled.
Since then, it’s been vibrator city for me. Which is fine. It’s
enough.
But it’s still not like being touched by a man. Being held. Feeling
a man’s skin under your fingers. Holding the weight of him in your
hand.
And, God help me, I miss all those things.
Of course, the upside is a vibrator doesn’t get you pregnant and
then abandon you. A vibrator doesn’t toy with your emotions or your
expectations.
Despite all my good judgement, I feel like my expectations are
already being toyed with.
 Well, maybe not my expectations, so much as the expectations
stirring in my lady bits.
Expectations which are only growing, since Colton is still so
close. And so yummy smelling. So I elbow him in the ribs. “Go find
another way to torture my brother.”
“This isn’t about your brother. I came over here to meet you
and I had no idea you were related to Eli. Besides, that guy’s my
hero.” His gaze flickers to the spot where my brother sits still glaring
in our direction while answering a question from the audience. “I
have no war with him, no animosity. That’s all internet marketing.”
Not from Eli’s end, though I’ve never bothered to ask my
brother for details. Maybe it is just a silly competition between them.
Of course, it doesn’t matter one way or the other if the rivalry
between Colten and Eli is real or fabricated. It has zero impact on
me. It isn’t my business. Because Colton isn’t my business.
Just like it doesn’t matter how ridiculously hot he is. Because
nothing is going to come of this. Nothing at all.
Because I’m a mother, for goodness sake! And he’s—
I search Colton’s face. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Oh my God, did you like just graduate from college? I could
have been your babysitter.”
His waggles his eyebrows. “That would have been so hot.”
The humor in his voice does nothing to diminish the effect of his
murmur.
Which is just stupid. Because I’m not buying it, falling for it, or
imagining what he looks like naked. Yep, that last part is just a damn
lie.
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
Then his hand slides down my back and grips my waist, and
that steady pulse in my long ignored lady bits beats a little faster.
God, it has been so long.
Colton leans closer again and when he speaks, I can feel his
breath on my ear. “Just have a drink with me.”
The sensation of his breath on my neck is so intense I nearly
shudder. Jesus, am I really that desperate? Am I really so hard up
for an actual physical man—not an imagined man, not the vibrator I
sneak into the shower late at night, but a living, breathing man—
that I’m actually considering this?
“One drink,” he coaxes in that low, voice of his.
Yes. Yes, I am.
I am that desperate. I am the needy. I am considering it.
I look over at my brother and his table is not surrounded with
readers waiting to get their books signed.
Then, quickly, before I change my mind or common sense
returns, I blurt, “No drinks.”
I look up at Colten. How is it possible that a man’s lips can look
so soft? Does he moisturize them?
“One night,” I say, keeping my words pragmatic to hide the
tremor in my voice. “No strings. And it has to be at your place
because I can’t risk my brother seeing you at the hotel.”
His eyes darken a shade and I think his pheromones are making
me lust-crazed.
“Let’s go now while Eli is occupied,” I say.
He holds his hand out to me and I take it. Once we’re in the
back of a cab, I send a quick text to Joy to let her know that I’ve
gone back to the hotel without them and I’m not feeling well. At
least then maybe they won’t worry about where I’ve gone.
 CHAPTER 2

Colton

OF ALL THE women at all the booksignings in the world, I had to hit
on Eli’s sister. The press of her curvy hip against mine in the
backseat of the cab and I’m reminded that even if I had known first
who she was, I still would have gone up to her. She’s gorgeous.
I’m a big guy. I stand a little over six foot five and I’ve always
preferred taller women. Hannah’s not only tall, she’s got banging
curves. I can’t wait to peel her clothes off her body and lick every
inch of her perfectly pale skin.
The cab pulls up outside my high-rise and I lead her inside
where the doorman greets me by name. Hannah doesn’t speak while
we’re in the elevator, but she’s still holding my hand. Meanwhile I
can’t keep my eyes off of her.
Her honey-colored hair falls to her shoulders in soft waves and
is so shiny, I’m dying to get my hands on it. She cuts those whiskey
eyes in my direction. Fuck, she’s pretty.
Finally, the elevator doors open and we walk to my condo door.
I turn on lights as we step in, then toe off my shoes.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, since I can tell she’s
nervous.
Though for the life of me, I can’t tell why.
I know from following Eli online and social media that he lives in
the same small town in upstate New York. And yes, when I say
“following online and on social media” I basically mean stalking. I’ve
been obsessed with Eli’s writing since he published his first book
over a decade ago. The dude is a fucking genius.
I assume Hannah lives in that same small town … where
apparently all the men are blind or stupid or inbred or something.
Because why the hell is a woman this gorgeous still single?
Okay, yeah, I get it. Lots of women want to be single. I’m not a
moron. But single and thirty, with no apparent idea that she’s
beautiful?
Because Hannah seemed genuinely surprised by my interest.
And that? Well, that is intriguing.
I blame the writer in me, but I do love a good mystery.
I gesture toward the kitchen. “I could open a bottle of wine,” I
offer.
Though, I’m not one hundred percent sure I have a bottle of
wine. I’m more of a beer guy myself.
Thankfully, she shakes her head and walks to the wall of
windows in my main living area, where I have a pair of chairs
clustered by the window. I have an actual office in the spare
bedroom, but I usually end up writing out here because you can’t
beat the view.
Her gaze flits to me. “Is that Central Park?”
I rub at the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
“I mean I know Eli makes really good money with his books, but
I don’t think he could afford a high-rise overlooking Central Park.”
I exhale slowly and walk towards her. “You ever heard of the
author Richard Jax?”
“The name sounds vaguely familiar, though I’m thinking
movies.”
I nod. “Several of his books were made into movies. Multiple
versions of movies. That’s my dad. Was, he’s gone now. But I
inherited a lot of money which is how I can afford this.”
“Oh my God, that was so rude of me. I’m sorry, I don’t normally
ask people about their income.” She gives a nervous laugh. “I’m
really out of practice.”
I close the distance between us and tilt her chin up to face me.
“You’re doing just fine. Relax.” It feels weird, me offering her
reassurances, when she made such a big deal out of being older
than me. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We
can talk. I can take you back to your hotel. Whatever you want.”
 Her eyes drop to my mouth and she licks her lips. My cock takes
notice and asks if he can come out and play. I do my best to ignore
him. And then she speaks.
“Will you kiss me?”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I cup her face, finally
threading my fingers through her impossibly soft hair and kiss her. I
sip lightly at her mouth, little kisses to put her at ease and if I’m
honest with myself, also to savor her.
Then she steps back briefly. “Okay I don’t wax. You know
downtown. Because first, who has time for that, and second, I live in
a very small town and so I’d have to have someone who’s known me
forever do it and accept the fact that then everyone in town would
know about my waxed lady bits. I do trim, but I’m not remembering
at the moment when I did that last.”
I know I’m grinning like a fool at her, because goddamn this
woman is adorable. “I don’t care,” I tell her.
“I’m also not remembering if I shaved my legs this morning. I’m
pretty sure I did, but it was also cold and shaving with goosebumps
is a disaster.”
“Can we get back to the kissing?”
She steps back into my arms, leans in, then stops. “Also, I don’t
have on matching undergarments.”
“Hannah, you’re gorgeous and I want you. The rest is details.
Relax.”
She takes a deep breath and sags against me. “It’s just been a
very long time.”
I rub her back like I did at the bookstore, she seemed to like it
then. “I told you, we don’t have to do anything. I just wanted to
spend some time with you.”
“Where’s your bedroom?” she asks.
I raise my brows.
“I think it’ll help me relax if we can just get into bed and make-
out in there.”
“We can do whatever you want.”
“But I’m doing this all wrong. Hook-ups are supposed to be all
heated passion and urgency and instead I’m just a disaster.”
 I swing her up into my arms carrying her like she’s my bride and
damn if that thought isn’t the least bit terrifying. “I don’t want you
to pretend to be anything but who you are. You’re hot as fuck and I
want to lick every inch of your skin.”
When we get to my bedroom, I toss her onto my California
king. I tug off my Henley and toss it to the wingback chair in the
corner.
Hannah leans up on her elbows, but just watches me.
“Do your tattoos mean anything?” she asks.
“Some. My first couple didn’t. But now I get one for each book I
publish. The ink has to signify something in the story.”
“Example, please.”
I undo my jeans and point to the swallow that’s right at my hip
bone. “This one hurt like a motherfucker, but it’s probably my
favorite. It’s for In the Swallow’s Nest. I tug my jeans off so I’m
standing in my red boxer briefs.
“Red. That’s a bold choice.”
“Scoot over, I’m coming to snuggle.”
Her brows arch. “Oh, we’re going to snuggle? Is that what the
kids are calling it these days?”
I laugh, then pull off my socks. I’ve got one knee on the bed
when she asks, “What about those?” and points right at my boxers.
“You want naked snuggling?”
“I want you naked.”
I lose the boxers. Those whiskey-colored eyes hone in on my
cock and boy, does he like that attention. He stands up proud. And
fuck, she’s so pretty. It’s not just her beauty, either. It’s everything.
The intriguing mix of practicality and shyness, of straightforward and
hot mess. I have no idea why that mixture is so appealing. But when
her perfectly plump lips part and all I can imagine is slipping the
head of my dick through them into her wet mouth. I grip my cock
and slid my hand up, then down.
“Now what?” I ask her.
She gets up on her hands and knees and crawls across the bed
to me. It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Until she licks me
from root to tip.
 “Hannah,” I whisper her name because it’s all I can manage at
the moment.
She looks up at me, her pupils blown with desire, and she licks
the pre-cum off my tip. Then she raises up—still on her knees—but
now we’re about the same height and she kisses me. Her lips, her
tongue, everything about her kiss drives me wild.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.
I grip her hips, then slide my hands beneath her sweater. Her
skin is silky smooth and I want to slowly unwrap her like I’m
unwrapping a present one piece of tape at a time. My hands keep
inching up her torso while we kiss. Then her hand is on my dick and
my brain short circuits, which is weird because this is not my first
bedroom rodeo.
Her palm is soft, but her grip firm as she slides up my shaft.
I break our kiss and press our foreheads together. “I’m afraid if
you keep doing that, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
Her hand stills.
I pull back just enough to see her face. “You tell me to stop
anytime you want, baby, and I will. Understood?”
She nods.
I pull her sweater off and her tits are big and full and encased
in a black bra.
“I have stretch marks,” she blurts.
“I’m not doing my job if you’re worried about your stretch
marks.”
“Sorry, I don’t know why I keep doing that.” She reaches behind
her and unhooks her bra, then lets it slide off her arms.
I cup both of her breasts. Her skin is pale and creamy and her
nipples are hard and a perfect pink.
“Anyone ever fucked these?”
Her eyes shoot to my face. “What?”
“Has anyone ever fucked your tits?”
“No. I thought only people in porn did that.”
“Put your mouth on my cock and get it wet,” I tell her.
She does as I instruct. The feel of that wet mouth on my cock is
so intense, I have to squeeze my eyes shut and think about the old
lady downstairs who gets the mail in her bathrobe. Because I will
not fucking come too early.
Once my cock is nice and wet I pull back. “Press your tits
together.” She does and I slide between them. I thrust back and
forth a few times. “Fuck, you feel good.”
Her fingers stroke over her nipples while I fuck her tits. “That’s
hot.”
“Okay, that’s enough of that. I want to play.”
I make quick work of stripping off her skinny jeans. Once I’ve
got her all naked I just stand there and look at her. She’s so damn
beautiful. Big tits, wide hips, a soft belly and thick thighs. She’s
fucking perfect.
I pull her legs so that she’s at the edge of the bed and I drop to
my knees. “Let me see you.” I spread her folds with my thumb. “So
wet.” I look up at her face and she’s got an arm slung over her eyes.
“I’m going to eat this pussy. And for the record I’m glad you don’t
wax. This is the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen.
I slide one finger inside her tight wet channel and she grips me
so damn tight. I curve my finger and find that rough spot on the
front wall of her pussy and rub across it.
“Oh God!” Her hips buck so I know I’ve hit the right spot.
Then I lean forward and swirl circles over her clit with my
tongue. I want to make her come quickly, then take my time with
the rest. But she clearly needs a release.
I suck her clit into my mouth and add another finger inside her.
Her tangy sweet taste bursts in my mouth and I’m ravenous for her.
I finger fuck her and flick my tongue against her clit, sticking to the
same, steady rhythm.
She’s writhing and pressing her pussy against my mouth. Her
fingers are in my hair and I’m pretty sure she’s chanting my name.
“Oh shit, shit, shit!” Then she goes silent as her body explodes
in a climax beneath me. A surge of fresh wetness coats my tongue
and I lap it up, coaxing out every last tremor of her orgasm.
As I kiss my way up her belly, she rises up on her elbows,
looking at me with an expression of awe and greed. That look on her
face is like a punch in the gut.
 I pause for a moment, just to look at her, to take her all in, as
this strange combination of pride and humility washes over me.
I don’t know what I was expecting when I decided to go to Eli’s
book signing tonight, but it wasn’t this … this gut-deep, certainty
that my life just changed. Irrevocably.
 CHAPTER 3

Texts between Colton and Hannah

COLTON: What are you doing?

COLTON: I’m just sitting at my desk looking out over
Central Park and thinking about you. I’m supposed to
be writing. Always on deadline, as I’m sure your
brother is as well.
COLTON: I really want to see you again.
HANNAH: This isn’t a good idea. I told you that
already.
COLTON: What isn’t a good idea?
HANNAH: Us texting. We agreed, just one night.
COLTON: I’m pretty sure I never agreed to that.
HANNAH: You did.
COLTON: If I did, that was before I knew how fucking
perfect you are.
HANNAH: <eye roll emoji>
HANNAH: Surely you can find some other woman to
play with. One who’s closer than me.
COLTON: Nope. You ruined me for other women.
HANNAH: Colton, seriously. You’re in one of the most
densely populated cities in the world, you’re rich and
successful and moderately attractive. Get yourself out
there.
COLTON: Moderately attractive? (Screen shot)
HANNAH: And there’s the man-bun. I’m too old to date
a guy with a man-bun.
HANNAH: Not that you said date. I’m not trying to
imply…
HANNAH: <facepalm emoji>
COLTON: Hannah, I do want to date you.
HANNAH: See above reasons for why this isn’t a good
idea. Also we live five hours apart. I’m closer to
Canada than I am to you.
COLTON: We could fix that. Come see me.
HANNAH: That’s not possible right now.
COLTON: Then I’ll come to you. I can work from
anywhere.
COLTON: Hannah?

Texts between Hannah and Joy

HANNAH: Why’d you give my number to Colton?

JOY: Because he asked.
JOY: The real question is: why did he ask for your
number?
HANNAH: <facepalm emoji>
JOY: I KNEW IT!
JOY: <gif of dancing poodle>
JOY: <gif of confetti>
HANNAH: You know nothing.
JOY: I know I saw you two talking at the book signing.
And then you mysteriously disappeared. Only to
reappear the next day looking all glow-y.
JOY: Hannah?
JOY: Where’d you go?
JOY: Haaaannnnnnaaaahhhh?
JOY: Shit. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering?
HANNAH: Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t know what I’m
supposed to say.
JOY: What’s to say? You hooked up with an amazing
guy. Who is super hot.
JOY: Not Eli hot, but …
HANNAH: Eew! Stop it!
HANNAH: <gif of monkey covering ears>
JOY: Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But you have to tell me.
HANNAH: Tell you what?
JOY: Why you’re acting so weird about hooking up with
Colton.
HANNAH: The hooking up part isn’t the problem.
JOY: Ooookay ….
JOY: Then what’s the problem?
HANNAH: The texting is the problem. He wants to see
me again. He wants us to date!
JOY: So? Hot guy wants to date you? How is that a
problem?
HANNAH: He doesn’t know about Abby.
HANNAH: He doesn’t know I’m a mom.
JOY: Oh.
JOY: <gif of crap on a cracker>
HANNAH: Exactly

Texts between Colton and Joy

COLTON: Hannah’s gone dark. Do you know what’s up?

COLTON: Okay, not you, too.
COLTON: Talk to me, damn it.
JOY: Look, maybe you should just let this go.
COLTON: Did I do something wrong?
JOY: This is really a it’s-not-you-it’s-her situation
COLTON: I don’t want to let this go. I can’t stop
thinking about her. I can’t even write. I don’t want to
be that crazy, stalker guy. So if you’re telling me you
don’t think I’m good enough for her or that she really
doesn’t want to see me again, I’ll walk away.
COLTON: But if there’s something I can do or say, tell
me.
JOY: Oh, honey.
JOY: Okay, tell me something. How serious are you
here?
COLTON: Very
JOY: Because if you just want to get laid…
COLTON: I live in a city with 18 million people. If I
wanted to get laid, I could get laid. I don’t want that. I
want Hannah.
JOY: Hannah is more complicated than you think.
COLTON: Because she’s Eli’s sister?
COLTON: Joy?
JOY: I don’t think this is my secret to tell.
COLTON: Shit. She’s married.
COLTON: Fuck me.
JOY: No!
JOY: Jesus! Do you honestly think I would have even
given you her number if she was MARRIED???
COLTON: Okay, if she’s not married, then what is it?
What’s the complication?
COLTON: Okay, I’m kind of freaking out here. Is she
dying or something?
JOY: No. Nothing like that.
COLTON: Just tell me what the fuck it is. Because I
really care about her and I’m about ten seconds away
from renting a car and driving up there myself to see
her.
JOY: She has a kid.

Texts between Colton and Hannah

COLTON: Joy told me you have a daughter.

COLTON: Don’t be mad at her. I basically harassed her
until she told me the truth about why you didn’t want
to see me again. She admitted that you think that
means we can’t be together.
COLTON: Hannah? Say something.
HANNAH: It does mean that.
COLTON: No, it doesn’t mean that at all. You think
you’re the first single mother in history? Lots of single
moms date.
HANNAH: Not this single mom.
COLTON: Why not?
HANNAH: The fact that you would even ask that just
shows you don’t know what you’re getting into.
COLTON: So explain it.
HANNAH: You’re too young.
COLTON: You keep saying that.
HANNAH: You’re 24!
COLTON: I’m a grown-ass man. I support myself. I
own my own home. I pay my fucking taxes. I voted in
the last election.
HANNAH: <gif of a woman yawning>
COLTON: What do I have to say for you to believe me?
HANNAH: You’re 24!
HANNAH: With a man-bun!

Texts between Colton and Joy

JOY: Here is a screenshot of my wedding invitation.

Hannah is my maid of honor.
COLTON: Why are you telling me this?
JOY: Because you should come. Come to the wedding.
COLTON: Your fiancé loathes me.
JOY: No, he doesn’t. Also it’s my wedding too and I
want you there.
COLTON: I don’t think Hannah wants me there.
JOY: I’m not convinced Hannah knows what she wants.
COLTON: She thinks I’m too young for her.
JOY: What do you think?
COLTON: I think she’s amazing and I can’t stop
thinking about her.
JOY: What about her daughter?
COLTON: What about her?
JOY: She’s priority number one for Hannah. And you’re
still young, you could still sow your wild oats or
whatever.
COLTON: I know I’m only twenty-four, but I sold my
first book when I was eighteen. I’ve been on my own,
more or less, since I was sixteen. Let’s just say I’m an
old soul. And I’ve sown plenty of oats, wild and
otherwise.
COLTON: Also I think I’m still older than you.
JOY: We’re not talking about me.
COLTON: So Valentine’s Day wedding? Isn’t that a little
cliched?
JOY: It’s a lot cliched. But we met and fell in love on
Christmas. We got engaged on New Years so getting
married on Valentine’s felt like the right thing to do.
COLTON: That’s romantic
JOY: I want to be perfectly honest here. I like you,
Colton. I think you’re a decent guy. And Hannah is my
best friend.
JOY: And to be perfectly honest, I’m tired of her
moping around. I’m tired of looking at your sad AF
Instagram posts. If I have to look at one more sepia
tone picture of a barren tree in Central Park, I’m going
to scream.
COLTON: I write horror. What do you want me to post?
Flowers and unicorns?
JOY: Just get your ass up here.
COLTON: Hannah hasn’t texted me back in six days.
JOY: Obviously. Or your feed wouldn’t be full of this
shit:
JOY: <picture of a barren tree in Central Park>
JOY: <video of an empty plastic bag tumbling down a
litter-strewn street>
JOY: Hannah is just as bad. The other day, I stopped
by at lunch and she was eating ramen. She’d
accidently bought the super spicy kind, so she was
eating the noodles plain.
COLTON: <shrugging emoji>
 JOY: plain, dry ramen is the saddest lunch ever. She
misses you, but she’s scared. She’s been hurt before.
So if you’re just wanting a casual hookup, stay in NYC.
But if you think this is real and could be more, then
come to the wedding. Stay awhile and see what
happens.
COLTON: I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.

Texts between Colton and Eli

ELI: You hooked up with my sister? You are a fucking

dead man.
COLTON: You’re so dramatic.
ELI: Do not come to my wedding.
COLTON: Sorry. Already on my way. Wait, what’s that?
I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Must be the
tunnel I’m driving through.
ELI: (Roll eyes emoji) You motherfucker. We’re texting.
ELI: I’m serious. Do not come to my wedding.
ELI: Colton!
ELI: Goddamit! If you lay one hand on my sister I’ll cut
off your dick.

Texts between Colton and Hannah Abby

HANNAH: <mermaid riding a unicorn gif>

COLTON: <manatee swimming gif>
HANNAH: <laughing face emoji> <heart eyes emoji>
COLTON: Is this Abby?
HANNAH: Maybe
HANNAH: Who R U?
COLTON: a friend of your mom’s
HANNAH: her boyfriend?
COLTON: I wish. Think you could put in a good word
for me?
HANNAH: Will U get me a puppy?
COLTON: Are you bribing me?
HANNAH: Maybe
COLTON: sassy, just like your mother, I see
HANNAH: I look like her too
COLTON: then you must be beautiful
HANNAH: My uncle says I’m a fairy princess
COLTON: your uncle sounds pretty smart
HANNAH: he’s my bff
HANNAH: Oh my God, Colton, I’m sorry. My daughter
got my phone.
COLTON: It’s good. I enjoyed our conversation.
COLTON: Hannah?

Texts between Colton and Eli

COLTON: So what’s the dress code for the wedding?

ELI: DO NOT COME TO MY WEDDING.
COLTON: No need to shout, man. I’ll see you this
weekend.
ELI: I mean it. Don’t you dare show up.
ELI: Colton, you motherfucker, I know you’re reading
these messages. I can see the little “read” notice.

Texts between Colton and Hannah

COLTON: I miss you, Hannah.

COLTON: I know you’re avoiding me because you think
I’m too young and I’m a player, but you’re wrong. And
I’m going to prove it to you.
COLTON: In the meantime, show this to Abby. I think
she’ll enjoy it.
COLTON: <link to Central Park Zoo baby seal cam>
 CHAPTER 4

Colton

NORTH POLE IS A SMALL TOWN. Like tiny. It’s quaint and near the
mountains and the lakes so I can definitely see the appeal. Snow
blankets both sides of the road.
I had to rent a car for the drive because I don’t own one since I
live in the city. But this drive—nearly seven hours with stops and
weather—has been awesome. I’ve had time to think through my
current plotting problems. I dictated the solution into my phone and
then dictated an entire chapter.
I’ve listened to music. Sappy-ass love songs because I admit it,
I’m a goner for this woman. One night with her and she’s all I can
think about.
Her daughter, Abby, is amazing. I already know this from our
brief texting conversations. Plus she sneak texts me pictures of her
mom and then Hannah freaks out and sends me a text to ignore.
But I never do. They’re all saved to my phone. I even set one as my
background.
Goner. For. This. Woman.
My buddy that I meet at the gym thinks I’ve lost my mind. But I
don’t have any questions. Other than whether or not she’ll be willing
to give me a chance.
I follow the GPS instructions to get to the cabin I’ve rented.
Then unpack my stuff. The view from the wide open windows is
unbelievable. Snow-covered woods and mountains off in the
distance. I could definitely write here.
My phone pings and I look down to find a text.
 JOY: Okay so your mission, should you choose to
accept it is to show up at the bowling alley, which is
horribly named: Balls and Pins. I guess we should be
glad there isn’t a sex shop here in North Pole.
JOY: I’ll make sure Eli gets there by 8:30. You have a
lane reserved for two hours. Thank you for offering to
do this.
COLTON: Does he know it’s me?
JOY: No. He thinks it’s the regular Friday night bowling
crowd.
COLTON: Which is who?
JOY: Old-timers. They’re a hoot.
COLTON: We’ll have a great time.
COLTON: Does she know I’m here yet?
JOY: That’s not my surprise to give. But if you want to
see her before the “bachelor party” then she takes
Abby to the diner on Main street every Friday at 5:00.
COLTON: Thank you.

Do I ambush Hannah and just show up at the diner? Fuck yes, I do.
That’s not even a question. I need to see her. And I want to meet
Abby in person.
I check my watch. I’ve got enough time to take a quick shower
and then drive back into town.
I get there ten after five and sure enough I see Hannah sitting
at a table in the window. Her head is down, but I’d know her hair
anywhere. I know what it feels like sliding through my fingers. I
know the precise smell of it, despite the fact that I couldn’t describe
it if my life depended on it. Some writer I am.
I can see that Abby is sitting on the bench seat next to her, but
can’t see her face. They’re working on something together.
It’s now or never.
I step into the diner and a bell rings over my head. There’s a
sign up that says to seat myself, so I walk straight to Hannah’s table
and lower myself onto the bench across from them.
“Sorry I’m late.” I grab a menu from the table.
 “Colton? What are you doing here?”
“Colton!” Abby jumps up and runs to my side of the table where
she throws her arms around me. “Did you bring me a puppy?”
I laugh.
“He better not have,” Hannah said.
“No, munchkin, I didn’t bring you a puppy. I want to get on your
mom’s good side, remember?”
Hannah is just staring at me, the question in her eyes is
obvious. I just smile back, because, God damn, it’s good to see her
in person.
“Oh, right.” Abby gives me an exaggerated wink. She’s got the
same honey colored hair as her mother but it’s in wild ringlets
springing all over her head. And her eyes are blue instead of that
intoxicating shade of bourbon like Hannah’s.
I situate the little girl on my knee. She reaches across the table
and grabs the paper she and Hannah were working on.
“Do you want to color with me?” she asks.
“I would love to color with you. But I have to warn you that I’m
not very good.”
She smiles and I swear my goddamn heart melts. “That’s okay,
Colton, I’ll teach you.”
After a moment, Hannah pulls out her phone and starts typing
away. For the first time since I climbed into that rented car, I
question myself.
Maybe I was wrong.
Not about my feelings, because I know how I feel, but about
hers. Other than that one searing look, she won’t even meet my
gaze.
Then my phone dings, and I grin, because that’s my Hannah-
tone.
I look up at her and cock an eyebrow. She purses her lips and
narrows her gaze in the most adorable display of ire I’ve ever seen.
I pull out my phone and unlock it.

HANNAH: What are you doing here?

 I quickly type my answer.

COLTON: I came for the wedding.

HANNAH: Eli and Joy’s wedding? My brother hates you!
COLTON: Nah. I’m practically his best friend.

Instead of typing back she just rolls her eyes.

COLTON: According to Joy, the dude doesn’t get out

much. He hangs out with you and Abby and her. He
spars with me on-line. She’s his fiancée, you're his
sister, Abby is his niece. Ergo, I’m practically his best
friend.

For a long moment, Hannah just glares at her phone.

I can’t tell if I annoyed her or proved my point.

HANNAH: That doesn’t explain why you’re here.

COLTON: You know why I’m here.

Over the table, she meets my gaze silently. There are so many
questions in her gaze. Too many for me to answer over text.
Besides, I’m so damn tired of texting her. I want to talk to her. To
kiss her. To sink into her warmth and hold her in my arms all night
long.
But I also know that she might not be ready to hear any of that.
Before I can say anything else, Abby squirms in my arms.
“You’re not a very good colorer.”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Calm down, little dictator.”
The look Abby shoots her mom is full of sass. “Well, he’s not.”
Her gaze drops down to her mom’s phone. “Besides, no phones at
the table.”
I slide my phone back into the pocket of my jacket. “Okay,
kiddo. What other rules do I need to know?”
Abby cocks her head to the side. “No iPads at bed time. That’s
for reading.”
I nod seriously. “Good rule.”
 I look across the table to meet Hannah’s gaze. There’s
something serious in her eyes and a little solemn.
“And dirty dishes go in the sink, not the counter.”
Again I nod. Hannah looks like she wants to say something, but
instead she just sort of shakes her head and looks out the window,
her eyes glassy with unshed tears. I’m hoping they’re good tears,
but I sure as fuck don’t want to hurt her. Her phone beeps and she
flips it over so she can see it.
“Oh no.”
“Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. The ring bearer has come down with a stomach
bug so he’s not going to be able to do the wedding.” She bites down
on her lip and aims those whiskey eyes at me.
“I missed you,” I say it before I can think otherwise. It’s the
truth though.
She gives me a small smile.
“Now that Colton’s here, he can be the ring bearer,” Abby says.
Hannah chuckles. “He’s a little too big for that, sweetie.
Remember, Leo is four. Ring bearers and flower girls tend to be
kiddos like you.”
“He might be too big, but he’s smart, I’m sure he can figure out
how to carry a pillow down the aisle,” Abby says.
“She’s not wrong. I could figure that out.”
“You’re a giant,” Hannah says. She waves her hand dismissively.
“I’ll tell Joy and she can decide what to do. She’s the bride.” She
types out a message, then sets her phone back down. “So you came
for the wedding?” Her eyes go back to me.
“Among other reasons. I wanted to meet Abby.” I give her a
little squeeze and she smiles up at me. Damn, I thought falling in
love with an adult woman was life altering. But this little girl is going
to wreck me with her sweet smiles and—oh shit. I’m in love with
Hannah. I wait for the feeling to scare me.
Though I come from money, I don’t come from parents with a
romantic history. Both of them are gone now. My dad died of a heart
attack when I was very young. And I lost my mom to early on-set
dementia last year. I think they loved each other at least at some
point, but I don’t have any memories of them together. They
divorced before my dad died.
So I’ve steered clear of love and relationships my entire adult
life. But there is nothing about Hannah or Abby that scare me.
Instead I feel totally at peace and at home, like this is right where I
belong.
 CHAPTER 5

Hannah

A FEW HOURS later I’m at the salon with Joy and Abby is happily at
her favorite playmate’s house. I’m supposed to be here supporting
my soon-to-be sister-in-law, being excited that this time my brother
is marrying an amazing woman who adores him. Instead, all I’ve
done since I saw his stupid handsome face is think about Colton.
He couldn’t have just come for the wedding. Eli doesn’t even
like him. He said he’d come for other reasons and my stupid, stupid
heart wants this all to be real. I can’t even deny that, I want so
badly for him to have come for me. But it’s not just me I need to be
concerned with. Abby already is crazy about that man.
I knew they’d texted some. It had all been on my phone, so I
saw the emojis and the pictures of me she’d sent him. Little sneaky
matchmaker. Now all of her recent talk about me finding her a daddy
makes so much more sense. I just figured kids at school were
teasing her.
Joy looks up from her phone and eyes me across the salon.
We’re sitting opposite each other getting pedicures for her wedding
this weekend. She’s grinning like a fool.
I shake my head. “If my brother is sexting you, I do not want to
know.”
“That’s not it. Though this morning—”
“No!” I hold up my hands. “Just don’t. I can’t think about Eli
that way.”
My almost sister-in-law has quickly become my best friend. She
is just like her name, so full of happiness and joy, she just brightens
every room she enters. And she’s made my brother so happy,
something I didn’t think would ever happen. For that reason alone, I
adore her.
“I’m glad he satisfies you, but I do not need details.”
“Soooo much,” Joy says with a happy sigh.
“Joy, stop it.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Can’t you just pretend I’m talking about my
fiancé who isn’t your brother?”
“But he is my brother.” I shudder. “Nope, can’t do it.”
“Fine. You’re no fun.”
“Are you all packed for your honeymoon?”
“Yes. It didn’t take much packing since we’re going to the
Caribbean. Swimsuits, lingerie and flip-flops.”
“You are planning to wear some clothes, right?”
She waggles her eyebrows at me.
I close my eyes and try to perform some sort of mind over
matter brain bleach type thing. Because I do not want to think about
my brother on his honeymoon. “I’m sorry I asked. Never mind. What
last minute thing do we have to do for the wedding?”
“Not a thing. Those church ladies just jumped right in and took
care of everything. It’s been really nice. Makes me miss my Grammy,
but nice all the same.”
The woman at my feet instructs me to lift my feet out of the
soaking tub. I’ve picked a sassy red polish with copious amounts of
glitter. You’ll be able to see my toes a block away. Except for the fact
that it’s stupid cold outside so only I will see my bare feet.
“They even sent some guys over to pick up the cake and bring it
to the church fridge. They’ve made it so easy.” She nods and smiles
brightly at the woman polishing her toenails.
“I can’t believe you made your own cake.”
Joy shrugs, then smiles at her phone again.
“Seriously, what are you smiling at?”
She blows out a breath. “Okay, I know you’ve seen Colton
already so it’s no surprise that I invited him. But he insisted on
having a bachelor’s party for Eli.”
“Eli doesn’t like people,” I remind her, even though his comment
about practically being Eli’s best friend suddenly makes more sense.
 “This, I realize. Still Colton really wanted to do this.”
“Where are they? Did they go to the titty bar in Wilmington?”
Why does the thought of Colton being in a strip club make my ears
hot with anger?
“No!” Joy says. “They’re at Balls and Pins.”
I snort. “They’re bowling?”
“It was all I could think of to reserve where I could make Eli
go.”
“Eli isn’t a very good bowler, if I recall.”
“Evidently neither is Colton. It hasn’t stopped them from
competing.”
I roll my eyes, but my insides are fluttering. Why do I like the
thought of my brother and my… nope, he’s not my anything. Still the
thought of Colton making sure that Eli had a bachelor party. I sigh.
That’s just sweet. He’s sweet.
I knew he’d been nice to me the night we spent together, but
I’d kinda thought it was simply because he was getting lucky. But
he’s just a thoughtful guy. Abby mentioned once in a text to him that
it was snowing and so cold and somehow he managed to have
gourmet hot chocolate and cookies delivered to our house the next
day.
He’s sent me flowers so many times in the last few weeks that
I’m told there’s a better pool among the older women on what
flowers he’ll send next.
“He cut his hair,” I say.
“Who?” Joy asks.
“Colton. He had this sexy man-bun thing going and now he’s
clean cut.”
“And you don’t like it?”
I roll my eyes. “That man could be bald with a beard to his
knees and he’d still be stupid hot. I guess I just want to know why
he cut it.”
“Okay, what are you not telling me?”
“It was one of the reasons why I told him we couldn’t be
together.” I say the words quickly because I know they sound
asinine.
 “You told him you couldn’t be with him because he had a man-
bun?” Joy asks, her brow furrowed.
“Not specifically, but I did use that as an example to tell him
that he’s too young for me. We’re just at different places in our
lives.”
“He’s older than me. And I fit in your life.”
“That’s different.”
“My point is that I don’t think this is about his age at all. I think
it’s something else.”
My toenails are done and shiny and red. The lady tells me to
wait ten minutes, then we can go.
“What is it you think it is?” I ask Joy.
“Troy.”
“I was with him for like a hot minute.”
Joy’s brows rise. “Long enough to get pregnant.”
She’s not wrong. I met Troy and I thought we had a whirlwind
romance. I fell hard and fast. Then I got pregnant and he joined the
peace corp or whatever he’s doing. It’s not that he’s not a good guy.
Troy has a huge heart for people in underdeveloped nations. But he
has no place in his life for a family. Thankfully his parents adore
Abby and are fantastic grandparents. Abby hasn’t even met Troy
before. He’s been in South America pretty much since I got
pregnant.
He does send child support. Well, I suspect it’s actually his
parents, but I don’t ask. The money is just deposited in my account.
He broke my heart though. Not because I have any delusions
that he was the love of my life. I know that’s not the case. I know
what I felt for him was lust and whatever happens when you get to
be that certain age and feel like everyone around you is married.
Still, he didn’t want me. He didn’t want us. And that still hurts.
It’s not until we’re walking to the car that Joy speaks again. “I
just think that you’re gun-shy. You don’t want to get hurt again. You
don’t want to take that risk.”
“That’s part of it. But the truth is, I can survive a broken heart. I
will not let another man abandon my daughter though. That is non-
negotiable.”
 “I get it. I truly do. You know my Grammy raised me. That’s
because my mama died from complications about two weeks after I
was born. And my dad couldn’t cut it. He couldn’t stick around so he
dumped me with his mother. Every now and then he’d come back to
town and try. He’d stay a week or so. One time he even stayed for a
month, but then I’d wake up and he would be gone.”
I frown. Eli and I lost both our parents, but Joy’s story is
terrible. “I’m so sorry, Joy.”
She shrugs. “I survived. But, do you think that’s who Colton is?
Do you think he’s that guy who is going to tell you one thing, then
change his mind and walk away?”
No, he wouldn’t do that. That’s my knee-jerk reaction. But do I
really know? No, I don’t because we spent one night together. Just
one night. That’s not enough information to use to decide anything.
Do I want to give him a chance? Yes, a thousand times, yes.
Still, there’s that doubt that scratches at the back of my brain. What
if? What if he changed his mind? What if he met someone younger
or thinner or someone who doesn’t have a six-year-old kid?
I’m still pondering these questions when I realize Joy is not
driving in the direction of my house. “You lost, sweetie?”
“Nope. I just thought we’d go see how the boys are doing at the
bowling alley.”
The boys. Like they’re a pair. Like we’re a pair. If only life wasn’t
so damn complicated and risky.
 CHAPTER 6

Colton

“QUIT SCOWLING. Joy is the one who picked this place. I offered to
take you to a bar or something,” I say to Eli.
He watches my ball roll into the gutter. Again. Wow, who knew I
sucked so badly at bowling.
“I’m not scowling. This is my face.” He stands and comes to get
his ball.
Neither of us are stellar at this, but he has managed to at least
get a three digit score going.
His first roll knocks down four pins. He turns to face me. “Joy
calls it my resting grump face.” His entire demeanor changes when
he talks about his fiancée.
“Got any wedding jitters?” I ask.
“Not even one.” His final roll on that turn slides right in between
two pins catching nothing but air.
“You two boys are about the worst I’ve ever seen,” an old voice
comes from behind us.
Eli gives a smile. I guess that’s a smile. “Hi, Mr. Landry. This is
my, uh, colleague, Colton.”
“Colleague? Nah, we’re buddies. This is Eli’s bachelor party,” I
say with a grin.
“Bachelor party you say. Oh that’s right, you’re marrying that
sweet little thing from Texas.” He points a wrinkled finger at Eli. “Are
you sure you deserve her?”
“I’m absolutely sure I do not deserve her. But I love her, and I
seem to make her happy,” Eli says.
Mr. Landry pops Eli on the back with a chuckle. “That’s the
attitude, my boy.” He turns around and waves to his friends. It’s a
group of about seven octogenarians. They shuffle in our direction.
“Come on, boys, we’ve got to give out the advice.”
I look at Eli and raise my brows. The advice? I mouth.
Eli is still scowling, but he gives me a slight shake of his head.
The old-timers gather around and sit in the multi-colored plastic
seats around our lane.
“Which one of you youngsters is getting hitched?” one of them
asks. He’s got to be the oldest and the smallest. He’s frail, but
stands upright and his eyes are bright.
“Me, Mr. Stanley.”
“Marry the woman who when you think about her being with
another man, it makes you want to run that jackass over with your
Buick,” Mr. Stanley says.
I laugh because I can’t help myself. Though I’ll readily admit
that the thought of another man touching Hannah makes me want
to buy a fucking Buick.
“Floyd, tell ‘em yours,” another one says.
A balding man with a round face and a rounder belly grins
widely. He leans forward, bracing on his elbows and knees. “Find her
button.” He sits back, arms crossed over his chest as if those three
words hold the secret.
The other old-timers snicker and elbow each other like they’re a
bunch of teenagers.
Eli looks at me and I shrug.
“Her button?” Eli asks.
“Her sex button. It’s hidden, but once you find it, she’ll never
say no when you want some bedroom fun,” Floyd says with a wink.
“Oh, her clit,” I say.
“Do you want me to draw you a diagram?” Floyd asks.
Eli swallows, and then chokes. Somehow he manages to croak
out a “no” while shaking his head.
“I think he’s good on that front,” I say.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Eli says after a huge swallow of beer.
“Hey boys, what are y’all up to?” Joy’s cheery voice comes from
behind us. Eli turns and stands so quickly you’d think his ass was on
fire.
 “Yep, that boy is in love,” one of the old men murmurs as Eli
leaves the seating area.
But then I’m right there with him when I see that Hannah is
with Joy.
She looks amazing in jeans that mold to her curves and a v-
neck dark purple sweater that accents her fantastic tits. Her golden
hair falls around her shoulders in waves and she’s smiling at me.
My heart beats her name out in morse code.
Mine. She is mine.
Eli sweeps Joy up in his arms and kisses her.
Hannah eyes the group of old men who have wandered off to
their own bowling lane. “What was with the geriatric club?”
“They were giving Eli some marital advice.”
She smiles broadly.
Mine.
“Anything good?”
“Well, one guy—his name was Floyd—told us about a woman’s
sex button.”
Her eyes round. “He did not!”
I nod. “He did. Said if you find that, she’ll always say yes when
you ask for sex.”
“His wife plays the organ at the Lutheran church.” Then Hannah
pauses, gives me a secretive grin. “That does explain why she’s
always smiling though.”
Joy and Eli walk over to us. “Have you boys been causing
trouble?” Joy asks.
“Us, not so much, but those old guys have potential,” I say.
“True fucking story,” Eli mutters.
Hannah’s phone rings. “It’s the babysitter, I’ll be right back”
The three of us head back over to the seating area of our lane,
game completely forgotten.
Eli glares at me. “I just need to know if you’re here for a hookup
or if you want something real with my sister.”
I swallow. “Something real. I definitely want something real. I
know she’s scared though.”
 “Of course she’s scared, man. She’s got Abby and that jackass
Troy really did a number on her. She hasn’t dated at all since Abby
was born.”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I say.
“You hurt her, I hurt you. It’s that simple.” There is not a hint of
teasing in Eli’s tone.
“Eli,” Joy says.
“I could use some advice,” I say. I glance around the alley to
see if Hannah has returned, but she’s still standing across the large
space holding the phone to her ear.
“What do you want advice for?” Joy asks. “You can ask Eli
anything.”
Eli glares at Joy, though it’s admittedly the most affectionate
glare I’ve ever seen and she just rolls her eyes.
So I take a deep breath and go for broke. “The truth is, I’ve
always seen you as a bit of a father figure. I was such a fan before I
sold my first book.”
“Motherfucker!” Eli yells, coming to his feet. “I’m ten years older
than you. What do you mean father figure?”
“Just go with it, babe,” Joy says. She tugs him back down to his
seat. “I think all Colton is saying is that he looks up to you, respects
your opinion and your wisdom.” She looks at me with her brows
raised in a question.
“Yes, exactly. I know that you and Joy met and fell in love really
quickly and I just want to know how you knew?”
Eli exhales, then grabs Joy’s hand, flips it over on his thigh and
threads their fingers together. “The truth is I knew the moment I
saw her. She was wearing this god awful elf costume.” He shakes his
head, but he’s smiling with such love on his face that I feel my eyes
start to sting.
That would be fucking perfect. To cry like a damn baby in front
of my idol.
“All I know is that one moment I was going along, living my life
and the next I knew that I needed her like I need oxygen. I wasn’t
about to walk away from that kind of love.”
 Joy is crying and she cups his face and gives him a brief kiss.
“I’m so glad we decided to do traditional vows because if I let you
say stuff like that during the ceremony I’d be a blubbering mess.”
Then she turns to face me. “If I may?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m open to any advice.”
“You need to be certain about not just Hannah but about Abby
too. Eli is the only dad-like person she’s ever had. She’s starving for
a daddy. I know what that’s like. But it’s better to never have it, then
to get it and have someone change their mind.”
“What did I miss?” Hannah asks as she comes and sits next to
me.
Immediately the scent of her surrounds me and my mouth
waters. I want to nuzzle her neck and kiss her everywhere. I want to
fucking marry her.
Another random document with
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come will never more see an epic. One race may grow feeble and
decrepit and be unable to do any more work; but another may take
its place. After a time the Greek and Latin writers found that they had
no more to say; and a critic belonging to either nationality might have
shaken his head and said that all the great themes had been used
up and all the great ideas expressed; nevertheless, Dante,
Cervantes, Molière, Schiller, Chaucer, and Scott, then all lay in the
future.
Again, Mr. Pearson speaks of statecraft at the present day as
offering fewer prizes, and prizes of less worth than formerly, and as
giving no chance for the development of men like Augustus Cæsar,
Richelieu, or Chatham. It is difficult to perceive how these men can
be considered to belong to a different class from Bismarck, who is
yet alive; nor do we see why any English-speaking people should
regard a statesman like Chatham, or far greater that Chatham, as an
impossibility nowadays or in the future. We Americans at least will
with difficulty be persuaded that there has ever been a time when a
nobler prize of achievement, suffering, and success was offered to
any statesman than was offered both to Washington and to Lincoln.
So, when Mr. Pearson speaks of the warfare of civilized countries
offering less chance to the individual than the warfare of savage and
barbarous times, and of its being far less possible now than in old
days for a man to make his personal influence felt in warfare, we can
only express our disagreement. No world-conqueror can arise save
in or next to highly civilized States. There never has been a
barbarian Alexander or Cæsar, Hannibal or Napoleon. Sitting Bull
and Rain-in-the-Face compare but ill with Von Moltke; and no Norse
king of all the heroic viking age even so much as began to exercise
the influence upon the warfare of his generation that Frederick the
Great exercised on his.
It is not true that character of necessity decays with the growth of
civilization. It may, of course, be true in some cases. Civilization may
tend to develop upon the lines of Byzantine, Hindoo, and Inca; and
there are sections of Europe and sections of the United States where
we now tend to pay heed exclusively to the peaceful virtues and to
develop only a race of merchants, lawyers, and professors, who will
lack the virile qualities that have made our race great and splendid.
This development may come, but it need not come necessarily, and,
on the whole, the probabilities are against its coming at all.
Mr. Pearson is essentially a man of strength and courage. Looking
into the future, the future seems to him gray and unattractive; but he
does not preach any unmanly gospel of despair. He thinks that in
time to come, though life will be freer than in the past from dangers
and vicissitudes, yet it will contain fewer of the strong pleasures and
of the opportunities for doing great deeds that are so dear to mighty
souls. Nevertheless, he advises us all to front it bravely whether our
hope be great or little; and he ends his book with these fine
sentences: “Even so, there will still remain to us ourselves. Simply to
do our work in life, and to abide the issue, if we stand erect before
the eternal calm as cheerfully as our fathers faced the eternal unrest,
may be nobler training for our souls than the faith in progress.”
We do not agree with him that there will be only this eternal calm
to face; we do not agree with him that the future holds for us a time
when we shall ask nothing from the day but to live, nor from the
future but that we may not deteriorate. We do not agree with him that
there is a day approaching when the lower races will predominate in
the world and the higher races will have lost their noblest elements.
But after all, it matters little what view we take of the future if, in our
practice, we but do as he preaches, and face resolutely whatever
fate may have in store. We, ourselves, are not certain that progress
is assured; we only assert that it may be assured if we but live wise,
brave, and upright lives. We do not know whether the future has in
store for us calm or unrest. We cannot know beyond peradventure
whether we can prevent the higher races from losing their nobler
traits and from being overwhelmed by the lower races. On the whole,
we think that the greatest victories are yet to be won, the greatest
deeds yet to be done, and that there are yet in store for our peoples
and for the causes that we uphold grander triumphs than have ever
yet been scored. But be this as it may, we gladly agree that the one
plain duty of every man is to face the future as he faces the present,
regardless of what it may have in store for him, and, turning toward
the light as he sees the light, to play his part manfully, as a man
among men.

FOOTNOTES:
[21] The Sewanee Review, August, 1894.
 XIV
“SOCIAL EVOLUTION”[22]

Mr. Kidd’s Social Evolution is a suggestive, but a very crude book;

for the writer is burdened by a certain mixture of dogmatism and
superficiality, which makes him content to accept half truths and
insist that they are whole truths. Nevertheless, though the book
appeals chiefly to minds of the kind which are uncharitably described
as “half-baked,” Mr. Kidd does suggest certain lines of thought which
are worth following—though rarely to his conclusions.
He deserves credit for appreciating what he calls “the outlook.” He
sketches graphically, and with power, the problems which now loom
up for settlement before all of us who dwell in Western lands; and he
portrays the varying attitudes of interest, alarm, and hope with which
the thinkers and workers of the day regard these problems. He
points out that the problems which now face us are by no means
parallel to those that were solved by our forefathers one, two, or
three centuries ago. The great political revolutions seem to be about
complete and the time of the great social revolutions has arrived. We
are all peering eagerly into the future to try to forecast the action of
the great dumb forces set in operation by the stupendous industrial
revolution which has taken place during the present century. We do
not know what to make of the vast displacements of population, the
expansion of the towns, the unrest and discontent of the masses,
and the uneasiness of those who are devoted to the present order of
things.
 Mr. Kidd sees these problems, but he gropes blindly when he tries
to forecast their solution. He sees that the progress of mankind in
past ages can only have been made under and in accordance with
certain biological laws, and that these laws continue to work in
human society at the present day. He realizes the all-importance of
the laws which govern the reproduction of mankind from generation
to generation, precisely as they govern the reproduction of the lower
animals, and which, therefore, largely govern his progress. But he
makes a cardinal mistake in treating of this kind of progress. He
states with the utmost positiveness that, left to himself, man has not
the slightest innate tendency to make any onward progress
whatever, and that if the conditions of life allowed each man to follow
his own inclinations the average of one generation would always
tend to sink below the average of the preceding. This is one of the
sweeping generalizations of which Mr. Kidd is fond, and which mar
so much of his work. He evidently finds great difficulty in stating a
general law with the proper reservations and with the proper
moderation of phrase; and so he enunciates as truths statements
which contain a truth, but which also contain a falsehood. What he
here says is undoubtedly true of the world, taken as a whole. It is in
all probability entirely false of the highest sections of society. At any
rate, there are numerous instances where the law he states does not
work; and of course a single instance oversets a sweeping
declaration of such a kind.
There can be but little quarrel with what Mr. Kidd says as to the
record of the world being a record of ceaseless progress on the one
hand, and ceaseless stress and competition on the other; although
even here his statement is too broad, and his terms are used
carelessly. When he speaks of progress being ceaseless, he
evidently means by progress simply change, so that as he uses the
word it must be understood to mean progress backward as well as
forward. As a matter of fact, in many forms of life and for long ages
there is absolutely no progress whatever and no change, the forms
remaining practically stationary.
Mr. Kidd further points out that the first necessity for every
successful form engaged in this struggle is the capacity for
reproduction beyond the limits for which the conditions of life
comfortably provide, so that competition and selection must not only
always accompany progress, but must prevail in every form of life
which is not actually retrograding. As already said, he accepts
without reservation the proposition that if all the individuals of every
generation in any species were allowed to propagate their kind
equally, the average of each generation would tend to fall below the
preceding.
From this position he draws as a corollary, that the wider the limits
of selection, the keener the rivalry and the more rigid the selection,
just so much greater will be the progress; while for any progress at
all there must be some rivalry in selection, so that every progressive
form must lead a life of continual strain and stress as it travels its
upward path. This again is true in a measure, but is not true as
broadly as Mr. Kidd has stated it. The rivalry of natural selection is
but one of the features in progress. Other things being equal, the
species where this rivalry is keenest will make most progress; but
then “other things” never are equal. In actual life those species make
most progress which are farthest removed from the point where the
limits of selection are very wide, the selection itself very rigid, and
the rivalry very keen. Of course the selection is most rigid where the
fecundity of the animal is greatest; but it is precisely the forms which
have most fecundity that have made least progress. Some time in
the remote past the guinea pig and the dog had a common ancestor.
The fecundity of the guinea pig is much greater than that of the dog.
Of a given number of guinea pigs born, a much smaller proportion
are able to survive in the keen rivalry, so that the limits of selection
are wider, and the selection itself more rigid; nevertheless the
progress made by the progenitors of the dog since eocene days has
been much more marked and rapid than the progress made by the
progenitors of the guinea pig in the same time.
Moreover, in speaking of the rise that has come through the stress
of competition in our modern societies, and of the keenness of this
stress in the societies that have gone fastest, Mr. Kidd overlooks
certain very curious features in human society. In the first place he
speaks as though the stress under which nations make progress
was primarily the stress produced by multiplication beyond the limits
of subsistence. This, of course, would mean that in progressive
societies the number of births and the number of deaths would both
be at a maximum, for it is where the births and deaths are largest
that the struggle for life is keenest. If, as Mr. Kidd’s hypothesis
assumes, progress was most marked where the struggle for life was
keenest, the European peoples standing highest in the scale would
be the South Italians, the Polish Jews, and the people who live in the
congested districts of Ireland. As a matter of fact, however, these are
precisely the peoples who have made least progress when
compared with the dominant strains among, for instance, the English
or Germans. So far is Mr. Kidd’s proposition from being true that,
when studied in the light of the facts, it is difficult to refrain from
calling it the reverse of the truth. The race existing under conditions
which make the competition for bare existence keenest, never
progresses as fast as the race which exists under less stringent
conditions. There must undoubtedly be a certain amount of
competition, a certain amount of stress and strain, but it is equally
undoubted that if this competition becomes too severe the race goes
down and not up; and it is further true that the race existing under
the severest stress as regards this competition often fails to go
ahead as fast even in population as does the race where the
competition is less severe. No matter how large the number of births
may be, a race cannot increase if the number of deaths also grows
at an accelerating rate.
To increase greatly a race must be prolific, and there is no curse
so great as the curse of barrenness, whether for a nation or an
individual. When a people gets to the position even now occupied by
the mass of the French and by sections of the New Englanders,
where the death rate surpasses the birth rate, then that race is not
only fated to extinction but it deserves extinction. When the capacity
and desire for fatherhood and motherhood is lost the race goes
down, and should go down; and we need to have the plainest kind of
plain speaking addressed to those individuals who fear to bring
children into the world. But while this is all true, it remains equally
true that immoderate increase in no way furthers the development of
a race, and does not always help its increase even in numbers. The
English-speaking peoples during the past two centuries and a half
have increased faster than any others, yet there have been many
other peoples whose birth rate during the same period has stood
higher.
Yet, again, Mr. Kidd, in speaking of the stress of the conditions of
progress in our modern societies fails to see that most of the stress
to which he refers does not have anything to do with increased
difficulty in obtaining a living, or with the propagation of the race. The
great prizes are battled for among the men who wage no war
whatever for mere subsistence, while the fight for mere subsistence
is keenest among precisely the classes which contribute very little
indeed to the progress of the race. The generals and admirals, the
poets, philosophers, historians and musicians, the statesmen and
judges, the law-makers and law-givers, the men of arts and of
letters, the great captains of war and of industry—all these come
from the classes where the struggle for the bare means of
subsistence is least severe, and where the rate of increase is
relatively smaller than in the classes below. In civilized societies the
rivalry of natural selection works against progress. Progress is made
in spite of it, for progress results not from the crowding out of the
lower classes by the upper, but on the contrary from the steady rise
of the lower classes to the level of the upper, as the latter tend to
vanish, or at most barely hold their own. In progressive societies it is
often the least fit who survive; but, on the other hand, they and their
children often tend to grow more fit.
The mere statement of these facts is sufficient to show not only
how incorrect are many of Mr. Kidd’s premises and conclusions, but
also how unwarranted are some of the fears which he expresses for
the future. It is plain that the societies and sections of societies
where the individual’s happiness is on the whole highest, and where
progress is most real and valuable, are precisely these where the
grinding competition and the struggle for mere existence is least
severe. Undoubtedly in every progressive society there must be a
certain sacrifice of individuals, so that there must be a certain
proportion of failures in every generation; but the actual facts of life
prove beyond shadow of doubt that the extent of this sacrifice has
nothing to do with the rapidity or worth of the progress. The nations
that make most progress may do so at the expense of ten or fifteen
individuals out of a hundred, whereas the nations that make least
progress, or even go backwards, may sacrifice almost every man out
of the hundred.
This last statement is in itself partly an answer to the position
taken by Mr. Kidd, that there is for the individual no “rational
sanction” for the conditions of progress. In a progressive community,
where the conditions provide for the happiness of four-fifths or nine-
tenths of the people, there is undoubtedly a rational sanction for
progress both for the community at large and for the great bulk of its
members; and if these members are on the whole vigorous and
intelligent, the attitude of the smaller fraction who have failed will be
a matter of little consequence. In such a community the conflict
between the interests of the individual and the organism of which he
is a part, upon which Mr. Kidd lays so much emphasis, is at a
minimum. The stress is severest, the misery and suffering greatest,
among precisely the communities which have made least progress—
among the Bushmen, Australian black fellows, and root-digger
Indians, for instance.
Moreover, Mr. Kidd does not define what he means by “rational
sanction.” Indeed one of his great troubles throughout is his failure to
make proper definitions, and the extreme looseness with which he
often uses the definitions he does make. Apparently by “rational” he
means merely selfish, and proceeds upon the assumption that
“reason” must always dictate to every man to do that which will give
him the greatest amount of individual gratification at the moment, no
matter what the cost may be to others or to the community at large.
This is not so. Side by side with the selfish development in life there
has been almost from the beginning a certain amount of unselfish
development too; and in the evolution of humanity the unselfish side
has, on the whole, tended steadily to increase at the expense of the
selfish, notably in the progressive communities about whose future
development Mr. Kidd is so ill at ease. A more supreme instance of
unselfishness than is afforded by motherhood cannot be imagined;
and when Mr. Kidd implies, as he does very clearly, that there is no
rational sanction for the unselfishnsess of motherhood, for the
unselfishness of duty, or loyalty, he merely misuses the word
rational. When a creature has reached a certain stage of
development it will cause the female more pain to see her offspring
starve than to work for it, and she then has a very rational reason for
so working. When humanity has reached a certain stage it will cause
the individual more pain, a greater sense of degradation and shame
and misery, to steal, to murder, or to lie, than to work hard and suffer
discomfort. When man has reached this stage he has a very rational
sanction for being truthful and honest. It might also parenthetically be
stated that when he has reached this stage he has a tendency to
relieve the sufferings of others, and he has for this course the
excellent rational sanction that it makes him more uncomfortable to
see misery unrelieved than it does to deny himself a little in order to
relieve it.
However, we can cordially agree with Mr. Kidd’s proposition that
many of the social plans advanced by would-be reformers in the
interest of oppressed individuals are entirely destructive of all growth
and of all progress in society. Certain cults, not only Christian, but
also Buddhistic and Brahminic, tend to develop an altruism which is
as “supra-natural” as Mr. Kidd seemingly desires religion to be; for it
really is without foundation in reason, and therefore to be
condemned.
Mr. Kidd repeats again and again that the scientific development of
the nineteenth century confronts us with the fact that the interests of
the social organism and of the individual are, and must remain,
antagonistic, and the latter predominant, and that there can never be
found any sanction in individual reason for individual good conduct in
societies where the conditions of progress prevail. From what has
been said above it is evident that this statement is entirely without
basis, and therefore that the whole scheme of mystic and highly
irrational philosophy which he founds upon it at once falls to the
ground. There is no such necessary antagonism as that which he
alleges. On the contrary, in the most truly progressive societies, even
now, for the great mass of the individuals composing them the
interests of the social organism and of the individual are largely
identical instead of antagonistic; and even where this is not true,
there is a sanction of individual reason, if we use the word reason
properly, for conduct on the part of the individual which is
subordinate to the welfare of the general society.
We can measure the truth of his statements by applying them, not
to great societies in the abstract, but to small social organisms in the
concrete. Take for instance the life of a regiment or the organization
of a police department or fire department. The first duty of a regiment
is to fight, and fighting means the death and disabling of a large
proportion of the men in the regiment. The case against the identity
of interests between the individual and the organism, as put by Mr.
Kidd, would be far stronger in a regiment than in any ordinary
civilized society of the day. Yet as a matter of fact we know that in
the great multitude of regiments there is much more subordination of
the individual to the organism than is the case in any civilized state
taken as a whole. Moreover, this subordination is greatest in
precisely those regiments where the average individual is best off,
because it is greatest in those regiments where the individual feels
that high, stern pride in his own endurance and suffering, and in the
great name of the organism of which he forms a part, that in itself
yields one of the loftiest of all human pleasures. If Mr. Kidd means
anything when he says that there is no rational sanction for progress
he must also mean that there is no rational sanction for a soldier not
flinching from the enemy when he can do so unobserved, for a
sentinel not leaving his post, for an officer not deserting to the
enemy. Yet when he says this he utters what is a mere jugglery on
words. In the process of evolution men and societies have often
reached such a stage that the best type of soldier or citizen feels
infinitely more shame and misery from neglect of duty, from
cowardice or dishonesty, from selfish abandonment of the interests
of the organism of which he is part, than can be offset by the
gratification of any of his desires. This, be it also observed, often
takes place, entirely independent of any religious considerations.
The habit of useful self-sacrifice may be developed by civilization in
a great society as well as by military training in a regiment. The habit
of useless self-sacrifice may also, unfortunately, be developed; and
those who practice it are but one degree less noxious than the
individuals who sacrifice good people to bad.
The religious element in our development is that on which Mr. Kidd
most strongly dwells, entitling it “the central feature of human
history.” A very startling feature of his treatment is that in religious
matters he seemingly sets no value on the difference between truth
and falsehood, for he groups all religions together. In a would-be
teacher of ethics such an attitude warrants severe rebuke; for it is
essentially dishonest and immoral. Throughout his book he treats all
religious beliefs from the same standpoint, as if they were all
substantially similar and substantially of the same value; whereas it
is, of course, a mere truism to say that most of them are mutually
destructive. Not only has he no idea of differentiating the true from
the false, but he seems not to understand that the truth of a
particular belief is of any moment. Thus he says, in speaking of the
future survival of religious beliefs in general, that the most notable
result of the scientific revolution begun by Darwin must be “to
establish them on a foundation as broad, deep, and lasting as any
the theologians ever dreamed of.” If this sentence means anything it
means that all these religious beliefs will be established on the same
foundation. It hardly seems necessary to point out that this cannot be
the fact. If the God of the Christians be in very truth the one God,
and if the belief in Him be established, as Christians believe it will,
then the foundation for the religious belief in Mumbo Jumbo can be
neither broad, deep, nor lasting. In the same way the beliefs in
Mohammed and Buddha are mutually exclusive, and the various
forms of ancestor worship and fetichism cannot all be established on
a permanent basis, as they would be according to Mr. Kidd’s theory.
Again, when Mr. Kidd rebukes science for its failure to approach
religion in a scientific spirit he shows that he fails to grasp the full
bearing of the subject which he is considering. This failure comes in
part from the very large, not to say loose, way in which he uses the
words “science” and “religion.” There are many sciences and many
religions, and there are many different kinds of men who profess the
one or advocate the other. Where the intolerant professors of a given
religious belief endeavor by any form of persecution to prevent
scientific men of any kind from seeking to find out and establish the
truth, then it is quite idle to blame these scientific men for attacking
with heat and acerbity the religious belief which prompts such
persecution. The exigencies of a life and death struggle unfit a man
for the coldness of a mere scientific inquiry. Even the most
enthusiastic naturalist, if attacked by a man-eating shark, would be
much more interested in evading or repelling the attack than in
determining the precise specific relations of the shark. A less
important but amusing feature of his argument is that he speaks as if
he himself had made an entirely new discovery when he learned of
the important part played in man’s history by his religious beliefs. But
Mr. Kidd surely cannot mean this. He must be aware that all the
great historians have given their full importance to such religious
movements as the birth and growth of Christianity, the Reformation,
the growth of Islamism, and the like. Mr. Kidd is quite right in insisting
upon the importance of the part played by religious beliefs, but he
has fallen into a vast error if he fails to understand that the great
majority of the historical and sociological writers have given proper
weight to this importance.
Mr. Kidd’s greatest failing is his tendency to use words in false
senses. He uses “reason” in the false sense “selfish.” He then, in a
spirit of mental tautology, assumes that reason must be necessarily
purely selfish and brutal. He assumes that the man who risks his life
to save a friend, the woman who watches over a sick child, and the
soldier who dies at his post, are unreasonable, and that the more
their reason is developed the less likely they will be to act in these
ways. The mere statement of the assertion in such a form is
sufficient to show its nonsense to any one who will take the pains to
think whether the people who ordinarily perform such feats of self-
sacrifice and self-denial are people of brutish minds or of fair
intelligence.
If none of the ethical qualities are developed at the same time with
a man’s reason, then he may become a peculiarly noxious kind of
wild beast; but this is not in the least a necessity of the development
of his reason. It would be just as wise to say that it was a necessity
of the development of his bodily strength. Undoubtedly the man with
reason who is selfish and unscrupulous will, because of his added
power, behave even worse than the man without reason who is
selfish and unscrupulous; but the same is true of the man of vast
bodily strength. He has power to do greater harm to himself and to
others; but, because of this, to speak of bodily strength or of reason
as in itself “profoundly anti-social and anti-evolutionary” is
foolishness. Mr. Kidd, as so often, is misled by a confusion of names
for which he is himself responsible. The growth of rationalism,
unaccompanied by any growth in ethics or morality, works badly. The
society in which such a growth takes place will die out, and ought to
die out. But this does not imply that other communities quite as
intelligent may not also be deeply moral and be able to take firm root
in the world.
Mr. Kidd’s definitions of “supra-natural” and “ultra-rational”
sanctions, the definitions upon which he insists so strongly and at
such length, would apply quite as well to every crazy superstition of
the most brutal savage as to the teachings of the New Testament.
The trouble with his argument is that, when he insists upon the
importance of this ultra-rational sanction, defining it as loosely as he
does, he insists upon too much. He apparently denies that men can
come to a certain state at which it will be rational for them to do right
even to their own hurt. It is perfectly possible to build up a civilization
which, by its surroundings and by its inheritances, working through
long ages, shall make the bulk of the men and women develop such
characteristics of unselfishness, as well as of wisdom, that it will be
the rational thing for them as individuals to act in accordance with
the highest dictates of honor and courage and morality. If the
intellectual development of such a civilized community goes on at an
equal pace with the ethical, it will persistently war against the
individuals in whom the spirit of selfishness, which apparently Mr.
Kidd considers the only rational spirit, shows itself strongly. It will
weed out these individuals and forbid them propagating, and
therefore will steadily tend to produce a society in which the rational
sanction for progress shall be identical in the individual and the
State. This ideal has never yet been reached, but long steps have
been taken towards reaching it; and in most progressive civilizations
it is reached to the extent that the sanction for progress is the same
not only for the State but for each one of the bulk of the individuals
composing it. When this ceases to be the case progress itself will
generally cease and the community ultimately disappear.
Mr. Kidd, having treated of religion in a preliminary way, and with
much mystic vagueness, then attempts to describe the functions of
religious belief in the evolution of society. He has already given
definitions of religion quoted from different authors, and he now
proceeds to give his own definition. But first he again insists upon his
favorite theory, that there can be no rational basis for individual good
conduct in society, using the word rational, according to his usual
habit, as a synonym of selfish; and then asserts that there can be no
such thing as a rational religion. Apparently all that Mr. Kidd
demands on this point is that it shall be what he calls ultra-rational, a
word which he prefers to irrational. In other words he casts aside as
irrelevant all discussion as to a creed’s truth.
Mr. Kidd then defines religion as being “a form of belief providing
an ultra-rational sanction for that large class of conduct in the
individual where his interests and the interests of the social organism
are antagonistic, and by which the former are rendered subordinate
to the latter in the general interest of the evolution which the race is
undergoing,” and says that we have here the principle at the base of
all religions. Of course this is simply not true. All those religions
which busy themselves exclusively with the future life, and which
even Mr. Kidd could hardly deny to be religious, do not have this
principle at their base at all. They have nothing to do with the general
interests of the evolution which the race is undergoing on this earth.
They have to do only with the soul of the individual in the future life.
They are not concerned with this world, they are concerned with the
world to come. All religions, and all forms of religions, in which the
principle of asceticism receives any marked development are
positively antagonistic to the development of the social organism.
They are against its interests. They do not tend in the least to
subordinate the interests of the individual to the interests of the
organism “in the general interest of the evolution which the race is
undergoing.” A religion like that of the Shakers means the almost
immediate extinction of the organism in which it develops. Such a
religion distinctly subordinates the interests of the organism to the
interests of the individual. The same is equally true of many of the
more ascetic developments of Christianity and Islam. There is strong
probability that there was a Celtic population in Iceland before the
arrival of the Norsemen, but these Celts belonged to the Culdee sect
of Christians. They were anchorites, and professed a creed which
completely subordinated the development of the race on this earth to
the well-being of the individual in the next. In consequence they died
out and left no successors. There are creeds, such as most of the
present day creeds of Christianity, both Protestant and Catholic,
which do very noble work for the race because they teach its
individuals to subordinate their own interests to the interests of
mankind; but it is idle to say this of every form of religious belief.
It is equally idle to pretend that this principle, which Mr. Kidd says
lies at the base of all religions, does not also lie at the base of many
forms of ethical belief which could hardly be called religious. His
definition of religion could just as appropriately be used to define
some forms of altruism or humanitarianism, while it does not define
religion at all, if we use the word religion in the way in which it
generally is used. If Mr. Kidd should write a book about horses, and
should define a horse as a striped equine animal found wild in South
Africa, his definition would apply to certain members of the horse
family, but would not apply to that animal which we ordinarily mean
when we talk of a horse; and, moreover, it would still be sufficiently
loose to include two or three entirely distinct species. This is
precisely the trouble with Mr. Kidd’s definition of religion. It does not
define religion at all as the word is ordinarily used, and while it does
apply to certain religious beliefs, it also applies quite as well to
certain non-religious beliefs. We must, therefore, recollect that
throughout Mr. Kidd’s argument on behalf of the part that religion
plays he does not mean what is generally understood by religion, but
the special form or forms which he here defines.
Undoubtedly, in the race for life, that group of beings will tend
ultimately to survive in which the general feeling of the members,
whether due to humanitarianism, to altruism, or to some form of
religious belief proper, is such that the average individual has an
unselfish—what Mr. Kidd would call an ultra-rational—tendency to
work for the ultimate benefit of the community as a whole. Mr. Kidd’s
argument is so loose that it may be construed as meaning that, in
the evolution of society, irrational superstitions grow up from time to
time, affect large bodies of the human race in their course of
development, and then die away; and that this succession of
evanescent religious beliefs will continue for a very long time to
come, perhaps as long as the human race exists. He may further
mean that, except for this belief in a long succession of lies,
humanity could not go forward. His words, I repeat, are sufficiently
involved to make it possible that he means this, but, if so, his book
can hardly be taken as a satisfactory defence of religion.
If there is justification for any given religion, and justification for the
acceptance of supernatural authority as regards this religion, then
there can be no justification for the acceptance of all religions, good
and bad alike. There can, at the outside, be a justification for but one
or two. Mr. Kidd’s grouping of all religions together is offensive to
every earnest believer. Moreover, in his anxiety to insist only on the
irrational side of religion, he naturally tends to exalt precisely those
forms of superstition which are most repugnant to reasoning beings
with moral instincts, and which are most heartily condemned by
believers in the loftiest religions. He apparently condemns Lecky for
what Lecky says of that species of unpleasant and noxious anchorite
best typified by St. Simeon Stylites and the other pillar hermits. He
corrects Lecky for his estimate of this ideal of the fourth century, and
says that instead of being condemned it should be praised, as
affording striking evidence and example of the vigor of the immature
social forces at work. This is not true. The type of anchorite of which
Mr. Lecky speaks with such just condemnation flourished most
rankly in Christian Africa and Asia Minor, the very countries where
Christianity was so speedily overthrown by Islam. It was not an
example of the vigor of the immature social forces at work; on the
contrary, it was a proof that those social forces were rotten and had
lost their vigor. Where an anchorite of the type Lecky describes, and
Mr. Kidd impliedly commends, was accepted as the true type of the
church, and set the tone for religious thought, the church was
corrupt, and was unable to make any effective defence against the
scarcely baser form of superstition which received its development in
Islamism. As a matter of fact, asceticism of this kind had very little in
common with the really vigorous and growing part of European
Christianity, even at that time. Such asceticism is far more closely
related to the practices of some loathsome Mohammedan dervish
than to any creed which has properly developed from the pure and
lofty teachings of the Four Gospels. St. Simeon Stylites is more
nearly kin to a Hindoo fakir than to Phillips Brooks or Archbishop
Ireland.
Mr. Kidd deserves praise for insisting as he does upon the great
importance of the development of humanitarian feelings and of the
ethical element in humanity during the past few centuries, when
compared with the mere material development. He is, of course,
entirely right in laying the utmost stress upon the enormous part
taken by Christianity in the growth of Western civilization. He would
do well to remember, however, that there are other elements than
that of merely ceremonial Christianity at work, and that such
ceremonial Christianity in other races produces quite different
results, as he will see at a glance, if he will recall that Abyssinia and
Hayti are Christian countries.
In short, whatever Mr. Kidd says in reference to religion must be
understood as being strictly limited by his own improper terminology.
If we should accept the words religion and religious belief in their
ordinary meaning, and should then accept as true what he states, we
should apparently have to conclude that progress depended largely
upon the fervor of the religious spirit, without regard to whether the
religion itself was false or true. If such were the fact, progress would
be most rapid in a country like Morocco, where the religious spirit is
very strong indeed, far stronger than in any enlightened Christian
country, but where, in reality, the religious development has largely
crushed out the ethical and moral development, so that the country
has gone steadily backward. A little philosophic study would
convince Mr. Kidd that while the ethical and moral development of a
nation may, in the case of certain religions, be based on those
religions and develop with them and on the lines laid down by them,
yet that in other countries where they develop at all they have to
develop right in the teeth of the dominant religious beliefs, while in
yet others they may develop entirely independent of them. If he
doubts this let him examine the condition of the Soudan under the
Mahdi, where what he calls the ultra-rational and supra-natural
sanctions were accepted without question, and governed the lives of
the people to the exclusion alike of reason and morality. He will
hardly assert that the Soudan is more progressive than say Scotland
or Minnesota, where there is less of the spirit which he calls religious
and which old-fashioned folk would call superstitious.
Mr. Kidd’s position in reference to the central feature of his
argument is radically false; but he handles some of his other themes
very well. He shows clearly in his excellent chapter on modern
socialism that a state of retrogression must ensue if all incentives to
strife and competition are withdrawn. He does not show quite as
clearly as he should that over-competition and too severe stress
make the race deteriorate instead of improving; but he does show
that there must be some competition, that there must be some strife.
He makes it clear also that the true function of the State, as it
interferes in social life, should be to make the chances of competition
more even, not to abolish them. We wish the best men; and though
we pity the man that falls or lags behind in the race, we do not on
that account crown him with the victor’s wreath. We insist that the
race shall be run on fairer terms than before because we remove all
handicaps. We thus tend to make it more than ever a test of the real
merits of the victor, and this means that the victor must strive heart
and soul for success. Mr. Kidd’s attitude in describing socialism is
excellent. He sympathizes with the wrongs which the socialistic
reformer seeks to redress, but he insists that these wrongs must not
be redressed, as the socialists would have them, at the cost of the
welfare of mankind.
Mr. Kidd also sees that the movement for political equality has
nearly come to an end, for its purpose has been nearly achieved. To
it must now succeed a movement to bring all people into the rivalry
of life on equal conditions of social opportunity. This is a very
important point, and he deserves the utmost credit for bringing it out.
It is the great central feature in the development of our time, and Mr.
Kidd has seen it so clearly and presented it so forcibly that we
cannot but regret that he should be so befogged in other portions of
his argument.
Mr. Kidd has our cordial sympathy when he lays stress on the fact
that our evolution cannot be called primarily intellectual. Of course
there must be an intellectual evolution, too, and Mr. Kidd perhaps
fails in not making this sufficiently plain. A perfectly stupid race can
never rise to a very high plane; the negro, for instance, has been
kept down as much by lack of intellectual development as by
anything else; but the prime factor in the preservation of a race is its
power to attain a high degree of social efficiency. Love of order,
ability to fight well and breed well, capacity to subordinate the
interests of the individual to the interests of the community, these
and similar rather humdrum qualities go to make up the sum of
social efficiency. The race that has them is sure to overturn the race
whose members have brilliant intellects, but who are cold and selfish
and timid, who do not breed well or fight well, and who are not
capable of disinterested love of the community. In other words,
character is far more important than intellect to the race as to the
individual. We need intellect, and there is no reason why we should
not have it together with character; but if we must choose between
the two we choose character without a moment’s hesitation.

FOOTNOTES:
[22] North American Review, July, 1895.