“Mm, no.” Leaving my seat, I cross my office and get the first stack of books out of the first shelf of the first bookcase I plan to relocate.
December continues her negotiation, “First kiss is twenty percent of the way in.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She’s a vampire, and she sleeps in a pretty casket, and while therearen’tkisses, therearebites?”
It’s been a minute since I’ve dabbled in paranormal. Icouldbe convinced to do a pretty blond vampire boy. So I say, “He’sa vampire, and he sleeps in an elegant casket that matches the flaxen shades of his long blond hair. He refuses to bite her, because he might lose control once the first taste of her sweet blood hits his tongue. In fact, quite truly, he refuses to so much as graze her with a fingertip he’s so frightened of what he might do. Just think of the angst!”
December whimpers. “You loathe me.”
I load her arms up with books. “Iloooveyou.” I tap a kiss to her forehead. “Please send these to my room. I think I’d like to create a maze of shelves leading to my bed, and we only have a bit of time before your curfew, so we best chop-chop.”
Sorrows abandoned, December’s eyes shine. “Ooh.Yes.I love that! A secret path!”
A secret path indeed.
We spend the rest of our time before sunset redecorating to make room for my casket while debating the elements of my next story. Bit by bit, a story comes together, and I can’t wait to see where it might go.
Chapter 4
?
Plotting is hard. How does August do this?
Alister
“I have no idea how you’re going to become August’s enemy,” Wynnter grumbles, eyes barely open as he hunches over his kitchen table and shovels his breakfast into his face. “She was bullied a lot in school. Didn’t bother her.”
I freeze with a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to my mouth. “She was…what?”
“Bullied. Loads. She’s pretty unflappable.” He crunches Frosted Mini Wheats, fixing the weary brown slits of his eyes on me. “Kid’s’d start rumors about her, and she’d write them reports on the plot holes, offering smug guidance on how to make the stories better. Literally nothing seemed to faze her. If someone hit her? She’d laugh, call them pathetic, and begin describing ways toreallyhurt someone, in chilling detail. I’ve stepped in to cover her more times than I can remember, but to be honest…she’s scarier than anything I’ve faced on her behalf. There was a whole season where she said she wastrying to find her archetype, and I didn’t know which sister I’d wake up to. Some days, she was a saint. Others, she’d go the villain route. She literally once bought a teacup from a thrift store so she could dramatically dump the contents on one of her bullies’ heads when they inevitably started something with her at lunch. I watched it happen. Her eyesglittered. For a hot second, our parents worried she was clinically insane and had her tested for all sorts of disorders in high school. Every single time, sheinterviewed the doctors in case she wanted to, and I quote,write a medical professional someday.”
My heart thuds, a flurry of emotions making their peace in my stomach. “You don’t say.”
Wynnter’s shoulders sag, and his brows pull together as he regards me. “You’re…even more in love with her now, aren’t you?”
I can only imagine how I look—eyes wild, face beet red. Of course I’m more in love with her. How could I not be? She’s the most riveting woman I have ever met. “She writes, does she?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think it’s safe to say all she does is write.”
“She wants to be an author, then?”
Wynnter’s eyes drift toward the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure she already is an author.”
An author already.
That means she’s written books.
Books I canread.
“You wouldn’t happen to know her author name, would you?” I ask, poking at my oatmeal. “Or the genre she writes?” If it’s romance, I might just have access to a template that clarifies her deepest wishes.
Unfortunately, before he can reply, the doorbell rings, so Wynnter mutters, “Go ahead and ask her yourself.”
My heartbeat trips, and I turn my head in the same instant the front door flies open.
There, across the living room and bathed in sunlight, August stands in a yellow sundress, which bares her freckled shoulders. The brilliant rays caress the dark bundle of her messy bun as she scans the space to find her brother and me beyond the kitchen bar counter at the small table. Ravishing, a smile melts over her soft features, and she enters, kicking the front door shut behind her.
