And when it comes time to get some new words down on the page, I’m pleasantly surprised by the way they flow.It’s been about a week since I’ve been able to come up with anything new and I’m thrilled to find my mojo hasn’t completely abandoned me. These characters have really come to life in my head, and it’s easy to craft the banter, the banter that slowly shifts from combative to riddled with sexual tension to just plain sexual. The only thing I’m really struggling with is seeing how they reconcile in the end. How do they survive another breakup—the one that traditionally happens in the third act—without completely writing each other off? Are second chances in love really even possible?
But that’s a problem for future me. I’ve just about written myself to the sex scene, a place where I know I will have to stop for the day because I am incapable of working on sex scenes in public, and even though my table is tucked away in the corner, there are too many other people around for me to be able to feel fully comfortable writing about throbbing cocks and peaked nipples.
I finish up the last few sentences, saving my document before I click over to the Internet so I can email myself the latest draft and also respond to any messages I might have. Though, of course, it’s days before the holiday so publishing has shut down for two weeks and my inbox is empty.
Despite the cloudy skies, I can tell just from a peek out the window that it’s still early afternoon and I can’t imagine heading back to the room until I’m ready to climb into bed, needing to spend as little time in Nick’s presence as humanly possible. But my options are pretty limited. I passed by a spa on the way to the barn yesterday, but I can’t imagine they have any openings, and even if they did, I probably couldn’t afford it.
Maybe they’ll give me a discount since they totally fucked up my room situation. But something tells me that was likely an error on my publisher’s part, not the hotel’s.
I’m about to go grab a second cup of coffee when a familiar woman slides into the empty seat across from me.
“Lauren,” I say, the surprise evident in my tone. I sit up a little straighter. “Good morning. Or is it good afternoon? I’m sorry, I’ve been writing and the time seems to have gone a little fuzzy.”
She laughs, and it’s as warm as this hotel lobby. “No problem. I think we’re safely into the afternoon hours now. I take it you’re trapped here like the rest of us?”
I nod, not sure if I want to mention the specifics of the situation. But then I open my mouth and it all comes out. “There was some kind of mix-up with the reservation for my room. They didn’t have me in the system.” I don’t know why I decide to tell her; it’s not like it’s the publicity director’s job to book hotel rooms for lowly authors, but something about her genuine smile makes me feel like she might actually care.
Her brow furrows. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I know it doesn’t help much in the moment, but I will make a note to look into it further.”
I shrug, a flush rising and heating my cheeks. “That’s not necessary. It’s no big deal, really.”
“Where did you end up staying last night?” she asks with what appears to be real concern.
My face feels like it might actually be on fire. “Um, I stayed with Nick. We were checking in at the same time, and he heard about the whole mix-up so he offered to share his room with me. I would have texted Hannah butI know she’s sharing a room with Gina and I didn’t want to intrude on their already-limited space.” I’m babbling, an old nervous habit that I should have kicked a long time ago.
Lauren’s eyebrows shoot right to the top of her hairline. “That was very kind of Nick.”
I nod and purse my lips to keep myself from blathering any other information one of the highest of higher-ups definitely does not need to know.
“I know I mentioned this last night, but I never realized just how close you and Nick are.”
“We’ve been…acquainted for a long time. I wouldn’t say we’re close, though.” As long as you don’t count this morning when we were practically dry humping each other.
“I don’t know. I saw the way he was looking at you last night. It seems like there might be something more than a professional relationship there, if you know what I mean.” Lauren sips from her own mug of coffee, watching me intently over the rim of her cup.
And dammit, this woman must have some kind of magical power, the kind that makes me feel comfortable enough to spew my deepest secrets. “We did date for a while, back when we were first getting our book deals. But it ended, and we haven’t had much of a relationship since.” My mind chooses that moment to fully digest her observation. “How was he looking at me last night?”
I tell myself I only care because I spent so much on that damn dress and I want to make sure I got my money’s worth.
Lauren’s sly smile lets me know I’m not fooling anyone, least of all her. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you. If I’m notmistaken, there was a definite twinge of regret in those hazel eyes of his.”
“They really are a gorgeous color, aren’t they?” I respond before I can think better of it.
Seriously, what the hell am I doing here talking to the publicity director like we’re besties giggling over some cute boy?
I clear my throat. “Anyway. I should be going. It was nice running into you.” I don’t have anywhere else to go, but I would rather go back to the room and spend the day watching Nick type than stay and continue this completely inappropriate and all-too-revealing conversation.
Lauren leans back in her seat, sipping from her coffee. “You know, I could spin a reconciliation between you two in so many ways. It would be publicity gold.”
I freeze in place at her words. “I don’t think a reconciliation is in the cards.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest anything like that.” Lauren laughs, waving her hand in front of her face. “I’m just thinking out loud. I’ve been doing this job for so long I can’t seem to turn off that part of my brain anymore. I see the PR angles in every situation.”
I settle back into my chair, too curious for my own good. “I can see how pairing up with Nick would be good for me, but I fail to see how it would be beneficial for him too.” Not that we will be reconciling or reconnecting or pairing up in any way. Certainly not in the way where our bodies meld together like they did this morning. That will not be happening again. Obviously.
Lauren glances around the room, like she’s checking for spies. “Let’s just say that thepretty boy who writes tragic lovestoriesschtick is growing a little tired. The readers want something new, and different. The playboy bachelor is only attractive for so long. His audience is ready to see him in a new role.”
I lean forward in my seat, floored by the direction of this conversation.
