Page 81 of Ice Queen

Yes, Dad.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and, unfortunately, study with my teammates the rest of our flight. Not like we didn’t do this fifty times already.

“Hey,” Monroe interjects when we’re done with the first play. “Did you guys read this week’s chapter? The way Hayden totally gave himself away when he grabbed Lia out of the way. Kait was right, this book slaps. Bodyguard and mafia princess might be my new favorite trope.”

I grunt in response, turning the page of our playbook. I binged the entire thing in one sitting. It gripped me from page one. What I loved most about it was that I saw myself in the pages. I saw the way I overprotect through a different lens. One that was for good, one that saved everyone, yet when he finally let himself admit his own feelings, he didn’t lose her. They banded together and became this impenetrable force. I want that with Kait.

“I did,” Wilson says, flipping through to the next page. He turns the playbook sideways, tilting his head at the same time. “It was awesome, but let’s focus. We can talk about this later.”

Monroe nods, turning to the same play we’re looking at. After what feels like hours have droned by, the wheels hit the tarmac, bouncing us softly in our seats.

“Guys,” Monroe whispers.

All three of us look up at him, the twinkle in his eye gives way to what he’s going to say before he gets a single word out.

“One final bet of the season.”

Collective groans file in around the table, but no one tells him no.

“Let’s hear it,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

He rubs his hands together in front of him. “We win, make it to round three, we all get a tattoo.”

“We can’t play with those, man. They have to heal.” Wilson points out.

I mean, he’s got a point. But even as he says it, I already know it’s going to happen.

“Screw that, wrap it up. Guys’ night out.” Andrews says, punching the air.

Ay mi madre. Guess I’m going to add a tattoo to my collection. And I know exactly what it’ll be.

CHAPTER 26

Kaitlyn

“Hi Camille.” I wave at one of Alexandria James’ assistants as she walks in the door.

She smiles, hands loaded with coffee. “I come bearing gifts!” she sings. “Maria told me this was your favorite. I hope it’s right.”

She holds it up, reading the label as she hands it to me. “Iced café con leche.”

I feel the sides of my mouth start to lift. “That’s it.”

Maggie jumps up from behind the counter, checking to see if the newcomer brought her anything. “Oh, of course. Maria could never forget you, little nugget.” Camille says in a baby voice, placing the cup of whipped cream down on the ground for Maggie to devour.

“I have so much to work on today, I hope you don’t mind,” she says, throwing the now-empty pup cup in the trash.

I shake my head. I’m glad she’s here, actually. “Not at all, make yourself at home.” She scurries to the back room I showed them before and sets up for the day.

There have been a few indie authors who have reached out about starting pre-order campaigns for their upcoming releases, and truthfully, I have no idea how to do that. Luckily, I made friends with the owner of a bookstore in Orlando, who I have a call with after we close.

I take advantage of the lull in traffic and work on our new release shelf. New books come out from the publishers every Tuesday, but we have a new release indie shelf, too. They deserve just as much recognition.

I grab a book from last week's releases and place it on my little cart so that I can move it to the correct shelf when I’m done unloading. My fingers brush across a book with foiled text on the front. The slightly raised lettering is a stunning blue color. I haven’t read this one yet, but someone compared it to a book I loved the other day. Her name was Kelsey, and she said this book was like if Cash and Indigo Ridge had a baby. And honestly, nothing sounds better right now. That’s where I got the idea for the If you liked this book, you’ll love this one table. I cleared off a table and put together a list of books I want to start with.

But then again, sometimes you’re just scrolling through hours of bookstagram to get ideas, and you suddenly have twenty-seven new books on your TBR. I have a working list on my phone where I put all these books, hoping that I won’t forget them when I wake up in the morning. I’m thinking about making a table for my “late night finds” from that list, too.

I pull two more books off the shelf, admiring their covers as I put them on the cart. Once the shelf is empty, I get to work on putting the new ones out.