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I groaned. “She writes those. There’s no way I could compete with the schtick she writes.”
More laughter. “Then go read one of her books and, literally, take a page out of her book.”
It was my turn to chuckle. I reached over and patted her knee. “Thanks, Georgia. I feel better now. I’m gonna go shower and see if I can hunt her down.”
She smiled. “Good luck. I expect an update tomorrow.”
I saluted her as I stood, then left to shower, my mind a little clearer than it had been before.
• • •
The apartment was empty when I returned. It felt eerily empty, like it’d been this way for hours. I dumped my gym bag down by the front door and checked the apartment room-by-room.
Her stuff was still in place in her room, so at least I knew she hadn’t done a runner.
A hot shower at work had convinced me that I needed to talk to Shelby, and it had to be now. She needed to know that the only reason I’d said her name yesterday was because I wanted more, not for her to cut it off.
She needed to know that I had real feelings for her, ones that rocked me and confused me every single time I set fucking eyes on her. She had to know that this wasn’t a joke, that there was something more than friendship here.
At least from my side.
And I wasn’t going to stop looking for her until I found her.
I quickly changed into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then grabbed my phone and keys to start Mission Find Shelby.
My first stop was the library. She would sometimes work there for hours because it was quiet and nobody would bother her. I pulled into the lot and rushed inside, only to be scolded by the librarian, old Mrs. Henderson, for not walking in an orderly manner.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said as I approached her desk. “Have you seen Shelby today?”
Her blue eyes glittered. “That’s quite all right, Jay, but keep it in mind.” She winked. “And no, I haven’t. Been a few days since she’s been in here, I reckon. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, no worries. Thanks, Mrs. Henderson.”
“If she pops in this afternoon, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and left, getting back into my truck and driving the few blocks to her favorite coffee shop. I had the same result there—she hadn’t been in, nobody had seen her, and they’d let her know I was looking for her, and yes, everything was fine, thank you very much.
I tried a few other places on the front where I knew she liked to work, including the bakery and the café that made her favorite sandwiches.
It didn’t escape my notice that the first few places I checked were centered around books and food.
If that didn’t sum Shelby up, I didn’t know what else would. It’d be on her tombstone one day.
Here lies Shelby Daniels, lover of books, food expert, and sarcasm connoisseur.
I shook that off and pulled up at the back of her parents’ bar. It wasn’t girls’ night, so this was a long shot, but sometimes she came here when she needed to escape. The stories of some of the punters were often jotted down into the notes on her phone, especially during tourist seasons.
According to Shelby, everyone had a life story that was worth writing. At least in their opinion—hers was a lot different. She thought they were all tooting their own horns, but that didn’t mean she didn’t always get some juicy bits.
The bar was quiet as I’d expected it to be, and her mom was behind the bar drying some glasses.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Jay, darlin’! How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good, Lucy, thanks. You?”
“Can’t complain.” She smiled, and her face lit up the same way Shelby’s did.
Fuck. I’d be seeing her face in oil spills next.
“What can I get you?”
“Have you seen Shelby?” I leaned against the bar. “I can’t find her.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You sure she ain’t holed up in a basement somewhere finishing a book? You know she turns into a hermit crab on a deadline.”
“Deadline week was last week. I don’t need air freshener anymore.”
Lucy laughed. “Sorry, darlin’, not seen her today. You tried calling her?”
“Ah, if only. She’s avoiding me, so she won’t answer even if I did.”
“Stubborn thing. I can’t imagine where she gets it.”
“Me either,” came the dry tone of Shelby’s dad as he joined the conversation. He leaned over the bar and clapped me on the shoulder. “What’s up, son?”
“Looking for Shelby. Have you seen her?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Jay. Not today. You do something wrong?”
“The jury is still out,” I said dryly. “I just need to talk to her. I’ll call when I find her.”
