“You wrote me into a love story?” he asks, and I notice he’s got that same delighted look about him I had when I first heard he was putting me in a song.
“Two, actually. And the second one is the first in what I think could be a series, so I planned to write more. Which now seems somehow more appropriate than it did when I started.”
“What kind of character am I?” He puts down his paper and pen. Apparently, we’ve switched from song writing to talk of romance novels for good. “Can I read them?”
“Um, no.” I wave my hands to amplify the meaning of my statement. “You can’t read them.”
He looks like he’s working overtime not to start laughing at me. “Why not?”
“Because having this conversation is mortifying enough. Having you read what I wrote...the things I chose to have your character do...and the way other characters, namely the main female one who bears an uncanny resemblance to me, view the fictional you, just no. That’s a level of humiliation I don’t think I can come back from.”
He looks more amused than ever. “You do realize I plan to read everything you’ve ever written. You can’t hide me from me forever.”
“You don’t want to read all my stories,” I assure him, waving my hand dismissing the notion. “Trust me, it’s totally unnecessary.” I take a moment to mentally review the conversation thus far. I told him the thing I needed to tell him. He doesn’t seem even remotely put off by it. “But, just to be clear. You’re not weirded out by this?”
“By this you mean the part where I provided inspiration for a sexy male lead in your short-one-chapter romance novels?” He grins.
“I never said he was sexy,” I remind him. “I didn’t even say he was the lead. Maybe I cast you as the reject guy. The pre-hero. The nice guy but nottheguy. Maybe that’s why I was so embarrassed to tell you.”
“Is it?”
I can imply a million different scenarios, but I can’t actually lie to the man. “No.” I sigh, rolling my head back and closing my eyes again. “You were the sexy hero.” I snap my head uprightagain, eyes wide open. “But there was no sex. I never saw you naked. Never made you do things you might not want to do.”
“Kenley,” he murmurs, suddenly leaning in extra close, “when it comes to you, there isn’t a single thing Iwouldn’twant to do.”
“Oh.” Holy shit, it just got hot out here.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KNOX
As requested, I wake Sloan in time to go for waffles at the Maple Tree. The kid was for real about those waffles. I will not hesitate to get her ass up early on a more frequent basis to partake again.
After breakfast, we head back to the house, each of us with our own agenda. Sloan has schoolwork to get to, Kenley blog related business to tend to, and me, I’ve got a podcast interview to hop on.
While Kenley and Sloan head for Frieda, I make my way up to the main house. With privacy limited in the small guest house, her parents were kind enough to volunteer their sunroom for my interview.
“Knock, knock,” I say, announcing myself as I step inside.
“Come on in,” Jacinda calls out from somewhere beyond the living room. “Javier went to the store, so it’s just you and me here.” I follow her voice until I find her in an office just off the hall. “Hi.” She smiles brightly when she spots me standing in her doorway.
“Hey.” I didn’t realize she worked from home. Guess I didn’t realize she worked at all. Just assumed they were both retired based on what Javier told me. “I’ll try not to bother you while I’m in here.”
“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m used to working through distractions.” She spins in her office chair to check something that just popped up on her second computer screen. “Can I get you anything before your interview?” she offers.
“No, ma’am. I’m all good to go. But thank you.” She kind of reminds me of my own mom. Never seems to matter how muchshe’s juggling, she never hesitates to make sure everyone’s needs are met.
She nods. Then her phone rings and I hurry up and get out of there so she can answer in peace.
The sunroom is perfect for the podcast. It’s quiet and the sofa in here faces the lake, so even if I’m stuck on the phone for the next hour, I’ll be sure to enjoy the view.
I’m just barely settled in when my phone starts to buzz. “Showtime.”
KENLEY
When I first sat down at my desk, I was pretty sure all attempts to concentrate would be for naught, but now that an hour has passed and I’ve completed two posts and fixed the formatting on three guest features that should have been sent my way ready to go but definitely weren’t, I guess my brain still has the capacity to function even with the likes of Knox Marley throwing off every other aspect of my being.
“I’m hungry,” Sloan announces, taking the two steps from her door into the one leading here.
