Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Because no one should ever have to hear me dictate a sex scene. Ever.”
“Try me. Do one right now as we head to the signing,” she says, and we walk in that direction.
“No way.”
She pokes my side. “C’mon.”
“Fine, fine.” I clear my throat and adopt the most monotone tone ever. “He unzipped his jeans, comma, his thick cock springing free, period, my mouth watered, comma, and I said, open quote, your dick is a delicious summer sausage, close quote.”
She laughs. “You’re right. You’re exempt from ever dictating sex scenes in front of me again.”
“Thank you. Anyway, was I okay?” I ask nervously. “I felt extra sweaty today.”
She pretends to sniff me. “You don’t smell sweaty.”
“I’m being serious. Did I sound like a bitch? A know-it-all? A ding-dong?”
Her brow knits. “What? None of those. Why?”
“I always worry.”
“You were great. And I’m sure no one could tell you secretly want to bang Axel.”
I roll my eyes harder. She’s harped on this before. “News flash. You’re still wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we will not see,” I answer, drawing a clear line in the sand.
She smiles wickedly at me, then mouths I’m right. She’s such a stinker, but I’m still glad she’s here. “Thanks for coming. I know you came to see Kennedy. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“I’m here for you too. Let’s grab a drink after? Meet me at Gin Joint later?”
“I’ll be there,” I say, then I head into the signing room, energized from seeing readers and my sister, even though she’s still so dead wrong about me wanting to bang my archnemesis.
Later that night, when the signing ends, I grab my purse and leave the hotel solo, ready to head to Chelsea to meet my sister. When I reach the revolving door, I spot Axel standing outside, leaning against the glass facade of the hotel, looking cool and broody.
Well, at least from the backside.
Is he waiting for me?
I might have reached my weekend dose of faking it with the enemy. I don’t know if I can handle another run-in with the man. But as I walk outside, I steal a glance at him. He’s chatting with someone. I tense, wondering if that’s his agent. But a better look shows a tall, older man with a thick beard, a shiny bald head, and tortoise-shell glasses, and I sigh in relief.
His editor, not his agent.
“And we’ll have that lunch with Stein later this week,” Linus is telling Axel.
“Looking forward to it,” Axel replies. They’re focused on each other. Excellent. All I have to do is walk past, smile vaguely, and head downtown.
Wait. I don’t even have to do that.
I turn the other way, but as I wheel around, Axel calls out, “Hazel.”
I groan but turn back. “Yes?”
Axel motions to Linus that he’ll be a second. The editor waves to me, and I give a professional grin and a nod. It’s a small world, after all. Then Axel heads over to me, the corner of his lips curving up. “Tacos?”
It comes out curious but approving. For a second there, I thought he’d be annoyed I made up the taco thing.
“I improvised. Don’t tell me you hate tacos too?”
He laughs. “Who hates tacos?”
“No one,” I say. I expect him to say something cutting and leave, but he stands looking at me, silent.
My brow knits. “What is it, Huxley?”
He sighs, as if dreading what he’s about to say. “You win,” he mutters. “You were nicer.”
Oh, right. The Be Nicer contest. We didn’t even establish stakes though. “What were we playing for?”
He glances at the cabs streaking by on the street, then back at me. “I don’t know. Except, I guess, keeping things private still. So, um, thanks.”
He extends a hand once more. I take it and shake. Only this time, I hold his hand for a second or two longer. Maybe five.
But then I let go. What’s the point in lingering?
We’re just former friends, former partners, former confidantes.
We are former.
We’re dead to each other now.
There’s no prize for behaving like an adult.
“Maybe the prize is we won’t have to see each other again,” I offer. That’s probably for the best—playing to keep the status quo and staying far, far away from each other.
That’s easiest.
He purses his lips and then nods. “Good night, then,” he says, and it sounds like we both agree on something.
I turn around and head to meet Veronica at Gin Joint. Too bad I don’t feel like I won anything today.
6
WINEDAY
Hazel
The next morning in the shower, the muses of opening chapters deliver my next hero’s profession. Because all good book ideas originate when you’re naked and wet.
The winner is—wine guy.
My hero will own several vineyards.
Which means wine’s now a write-off for me.
Once I’m not naked and wet, but not fully dressed either—because why be fully dressed at home?—I reach out to one of the city’s top sommeliers and schedule a time to see him next week.