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He shook his head, sighed and lifted it again. When he did, I made sure my eyes were above his waistline. Hell, above his neck.
I chalked up being so damn thirsty over this man due to not being with one in a long time.
The last date I had was at least a year ago. Ever since I moved to Eagle’s Landing, I had to find dates in more populated areas like Williamsport, Scranton or Wilkes-Barre.
But all of those were short-lived. More flings than relationships. Just more of a reprieve for the lack of intimacy and another man’s touch until I found the next one. For one reason or another, none of the men I had dated or simply hooked up with withstood the test of time.
That time lasting no more than a few weeks at best.
I was one who enjoyed the challenge of coming up with original storylines for my books. I applied that also to men. Chase was definitely a challenge I couldn’t pass up. I probably should but I was now committed to at least making him my friend if nothing else.
He would be my friend, damn it, whether he wanted to be or not.
I would be his huckleberry.
I rolled my lips under. I might be losing my mind.
I scrambled up the steps after he ignored what I said, turned and opened the door. “I would love to see what you’ve done with the cabin.”
“I’m sure you would,” he grumbled, stepping inside.
As soon as I followed him across the threshold, he stopped short and spun around, blocking my way and making me jerk to a halt. “I didn’t invite you in.”
My gaze followed Timber as he trotted around the small cabin, sniffing everything. “Then I’ll just grab my dog…”
Chase shook his head, more out of frustration with me being pushy than him saying “no.”
“And I still need to give you what I brought for you,” I insisted.
“I don’t need anything.”
I figured he’d say that. Anything to be a grump. “It’s the next two books in my series. I’m not sure how far you’ve gotten yet.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Of course I didn’t, but I wanted to. I respect you as an author and I’m thrilled you’re enjoying my books. Besides from the locals, I rarely get feedback on my work. Of course, I get reviews, but I rarely read them because they’re more for other readers than for the author. And while some can be uplifting and encourage me to keep writing, some can be downright cruel and make me question every word I write.”
All authors dealt with that same issue, but it didn’t make it any easier. Every book I wrote was like my baby and to hear someone tell me my baby was ugly…
“Do you read your reviews?” I asked him, wondering if he tortured himself like that. I’ve read some of his reviews. It didn’t matter if I thought his series was genius, others might not. And some comments could be not only uncalled for, but downright nasty.
“No,” he answered. “My publisher would drop me if my books were garbage. Since they want me to keep writing, I have to assume they’re good.”
Look at him now being humble, unlike his naked stroll out of the lake. “You know they’re good.”
“My opinion isn’t the one that matters.”
No truer words.
Without readers we weren’t authors, we were strictly writers. Being brave enough to publish your work and then actually selling those books was what made us authors.
Anybody could write, but not everyone had thick enough skin to publish and take harsh criticism of their work, whether valid or not.
Life in the book world was no different than the real world. It could be cruel.
“Well…” He inhaled deeply and glanced over at his bedroom. “I need to change. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Saying that last part had to hurt, didn’t it?” I asked. “How about while you change, I run out to my truck and bring in the two books I brought for you.”
“If you must.”
“I must,” I insisted.
He stared at me for a few seconds and even though his expression was carefully blank, I was sure he thought I was some whack job. I normally didn’t force myself into someone’s life like this, but… It was clear Chase needed a friend.
He just didn’t realize it yet.
Eventually he would. I was confident about that. And also that I was the perfect person for the job.
He just didn’t realize that yet, either.
As soon as he went into his bedroom and closed the door, I leaned down to Timber, sitting by my side but staring in the direction Chase disappeared.
“Stay here,” I whispered to my four-legged companion. “This way he won’t lock me out. I doubt he wants me to leave you behind.”
At least I hoped he wouldn’t kidnap Timber. Though, my dog probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably curl up on Chase’s bed at night and sleep as if the man had been his daddy since a puppy.
