As for the word you were missing, one of these might be what you were looking for: trade, exchange, swap, barter.
I’d played that game in several author groups before, so I was now an expert at quickly using a thesaurus.
But I was also an expert at deciphering Knox Whitaker, and his table comment seemed to be about it being buried under a mile of crap. So there was no way in hell I was planning on promising anything about that.
He’d mentioned that before and I was too smart to fall for it.
I was, however, too curious for my own good, so I kept typing.
I want to make sure you understand that I’m serious about the exchange. I don’t have any work going on at the moment and I’m bored. I also don’t have anything I’m reading at the moment (and I won’t point out how long it’s been since you released a book).
So as long as sober you wants to keep going with this as much as drunk you did, please let me know when you can meet. My schedule is fairly open and I can meet you at the coffee shop you prefer if you’d like. (No, I didn’t stalk you. Please remind Lori that you post pictures from the same coffee shop every Thursday when they come out with the new donut flavor.)
Deciding that I was starting to sound like a stalker, I did my best to politely end the email and not come across as completely insane.
Knox wouldn’t mind me sounding nuts, but Lori was the type to think the whole thing was ridiculous once she was sober...which just showed how drunk she’d been too.
They both needed more adult supervision.
And I needed lunch before I ended up staring at my email all afternoon, so I sent my response and got up from my desk, walking away from the temptation to watch for his reply. Knox might need more common sense, but I seemed to be lacking it too.
That might’ve been because I was so fucking bored I was starting to pull my hair out, though.
Who’d ever said that retiring early would be fabulous was insane.
I had the money to travel and do what I wanted, but I’d spent too many years focusing on work to have anyone to do shit with. It was a rock and a hard place that I should’ve thoughtabout before, but I’d been too busy working and then selling the business to notice.
Yep, I was not that bright.
But luckily for me, Knox Whitaker wasn’t looking for a genius...just someone to find the bottom of his house.
****
He was excited to see me...the nutty author was wiggling and searching the room like he was looking for Santa at the mall.
Even meeting my gaze across the coffee shop didn’t freak him the fuck out. If anything, he sat straighter and smiled even wider.
We were going to have to work on his self-preservation instincts if meeting a stranger off the internet who looked a bit like a hit man for the mob seemed like a good idea. Especially when it was clear I knew his favorite hang-out spot and way too much about him to be a stranger who was, in fact, an actual stranger.
He shared entirely too much about his personal life online.
“Rohan?” Knox nearly beamed as I nodded and walked up to his favorite table in the corner. “I knew that was you. You’re definitely awhere’s Teddy’s storykind of reader.”
I was?
His brain must’ve been an even more interesting place than I’d imagined.
“It’s good to meet you.” When I held out a hand so I looked like I had manners, it took Knox’s brain a second to kick in.
“Yes, shaking hands. That’s right.” Sitting straighter again, he finally held out his and gave me a very businesslike handshake before standing up. “It’s good to meet you too.”
The curious exchange had me fighting off a smile, but I wasn’t sure he’d have minded...or noticed. He was too busychecking me out and letting that fascinating brain of his wander. “I...I’m supposed to...How big would you say your chest is? I’m not good at measurements and I’m trying to work on describing people better.”
I was never going to make it keeping a straight face, so I moved my goal to doing my best not to outright laugh at whatever came out of his mouth.
“Knox?” Letting my voice go deep, I raised one eyebrow as his gaze finally met mine, still wonderfully distracted and sexy as fuck. “You have to talk to me about the trade before you can ask for my measurements.”
Yes, I did mean that as dirty as it’d sounded.
