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I willnotscare Stone Ryder––International and Wall Street Journal Best-Selling Author––away from the B&B with my horniness.
Stone
As I drive across the Lewis and Clark Bridge, set high above the Columbia River, a new plot comes to mind. This always happens to me in the most inopportune moments. It’s not as if I can write my ideas down while I’m driving, and I really hate using dictation on my phone. I’ll just have to keep this idea in mind and jot it down as soon as I can.
I see the “Welcome to Oregon” sign and hope I don’t havetoomuch longer to drive. I’ve never been to Seaside before. It took longer than I expected to get through traffic from Tacoma to Olympia, so I’m not sure of my ETA now. “Duh,” I mutter to myself, remembering I have navigation in my new car. I click the screen on my dash, so the map appears, and I see that I still have nearly an hour and a half left to drive.
Shit.
At least I can enjoy the view. It’s an undeniably beautiful part of the country. I can’t believe I’ve never made it down here before.
My phone rings, and I look at the screen again. Instead of the map, it now shows who’s calling. It’s my publicist, Diane. I press the button on my steering wheel to answer. “Hi, Diane. How are you?”
“Hi, Stone. I’m good. Just arrived in Seaside. Whereabouts are you?”
“I just crossed into Oregon. My navigation says I should be there at two thirty-two.”
“Okay, sounds good,” she says. Diane is all business, all the time. She’s a fantastic publicist. “I have all your stuff here at the hotel with me. You need to be here by ten a.m. tomorrow morning. You have the address, correct?”
“Yep, sure do. I’ll be there at ten.”
“Everything will be set up by the time you get here, so you just need to be ready to meet your fans and sign their books.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Diane,” I say as I step on the gas to pass a logging truck.
“Enjoy your drive and try to relax when you get to the B&B. You have the address, correct?”
“Yep, I’ve got that one, too,” I reply. When Diane made hotel reservations, it turned out there was only one room left. Apparently, the Seaside Festival draws a lot of out-of-town visitors, and the only place she was able to book another room was at the Sandy Shore Inn. She thought it would be best if she stayed at the hotel, since the book signing is there, and she can be onsite to handle the business end of things. I was fine with that decision, especially when I looked at the B&B online and saw that it’s right on the beach, while the hotel is a couple of blocks away.
Not only that, but it’ll be less crowded than the hotel the book signing is being held at. It’s still weird to me when strangers approach me as if they know me, simply because they’ve read my books. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I’m just not used to being recognized like a celebrity.
Diane and I end the call, and I continue my drive.
When I finally arrive at the Sandy Shore Inn, I’m immediately in awe. The old Victorian-style home sits on a large piece of property, and directly behind it is the Pacific Ocean. I cut the engine to my Range Rover and get out of my SUV. The salty sea air hits my nostrils as I take a deep breath and stretch. I haven’t been to the coast in years, and it immediately feels refreshing.
I get my luggage out of the car, then head toward the house. The front porch is grand, and it looks as though it wraps all the way around both sides of the house. There’s a sign next to the front door that says, “Welcome, guests,” and another sign below it says, “Open.” I open the front door and walk inside.
What a grand entrance. To my immediate right is an entrance to a shop. Next to that is a stairway leading upstairs, and straight ahead is the front desk. The ceilings are high, and the decor is intriguing. The wallpaper in the foyer is dark purple with black designs. There’s artwork on the walls, and it’s a variety of styles. I’m in awe of how eclectic it all is. This place has a definite vibe, and I immediately like it.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice asks, and I turn around.
Damn. She’s beautiful.
“Hi there.” I smile, and she returns the gesture. God, she’s even more beautiful when she smiles. “I’m checking in. My name’s Stone Ryder.”
Her jaw drops, and I know she’s probably just realized who I am. “Wait––Are youtheStone Ryder? The author?”
Nodding, I reply, “That’s me.”
“Hold on,” she says before disappearing into the room to my left––which appears to be a fancy living room of sorts. I see her pick something up off a table, and when she turns around, I see it’s my book. She was just reading my book? What a coincidence. She returns to the front desk and lays the book on the counter in front of me. “This is you?”
I look at the all-too-familiar cover, then back at her. It’s my newest release,Fire and Ice.My smile widens. “You’re reading my book?”
She nods. “Yes! And I’m loving it so far! It has rave reviews, so I had to check it out.”
I love her enthusiasm. She seems sweet. I also can’t stop myself from imagining how she looks naked. For the first time ever, I’m turned on by someone who has recognized me. Usually, it feels like some sort of business transaction when interacting with fans. I’ve yet to be attracted to anyone like I am right now.
“Thanks,” I manage to reply, shoving my dirty thoughts aside.
