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“Well, for one, the cost of a cover, editor, proofreader, and advertising, just to name a few,” I said, already succumbing to the defeat I felt whenever I began doing research on how to publish a book.
“Ah, Tarryn could help you with that, I bet.”
With another groan and roll of my eyes, I shook my head. “I can't ask Tarryn for everything,” I disputed.
It was true. Tarryn might be my best friend, and I knew she would help me in any way she could. But I didn't want to rely on her any more than I wanted to forever rely on my parents to give me a ride.
He bobbed his head in a slight nod, then said, “Well, I'm sure you’ll figure something out.” His hand reached out to give my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he got up to head back to the sink.
The faucet wasn't on for two seconds before the doorbell rang.
“Who the hell is that?” Dad murmured beneath his breath. “Are you expecting anybody?”
“No,” I replied, opening my laptop as he headed through the kitchen to the living room.
The anticipation of hanging out with my leading lady tickled at my fingertips as the document took its time loading. I was already thinking of where the story would go next when Dad called my name.
“Yeah?” I called back, trying not to sound annoyed for being interrupted. Again.
“Uh, your friend is here to see you,” he said, his voice coming closer.
“What?” I asked curiously, narrowing my eyes at the screen and wondering who would just drop by, unannounced. Peter maybe? Or Tarryn, surprising me with a visit?
“Hey,” said the last person I'd have expected, bringing my legs to jump out of the chair while I frantically brushed away the loose hairs from my forehead.
No matter how much Dylan Pierce had pissed me off, I still couldn't stand the idea of him seeing me like this. Disheveled in a ratty sweatshirt and frayed yoga pants.
Even if he had seen me naked.
“Hey,” I replied breathlessly, tightening my arms around my middle. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in the studio.”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied, approaching slowly, coolly, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His limp was even less noticeable now, and that old, confident swagger I used to see on TV seemed to be returning with full force. “But Devin's giving us the weekend off, and I wanted to come see my muse.”
My cheeks were set on fire as Dad whooped from the sink.
“Lennon, you hear that? You're hismuse,” he teased.
“Yep,” I gritted from between my clenched teeth. “I heard him, Dad.”
Dylan chuckled, tilting his chin downward to let his long, dark hair hang over his eyes. Was he blushing? I wouldn't know, but it was nice to imagine he might be.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanna hang out,” he said. “We could go to that bookstore you like.”
“Oh, um …” I glanced at the laptop, remembering my characters and the plans they had for me. “I don't know. I was—”
“Just say yes,” he cut me off, and I looked back to see the pleading expression on his face. “We won't be long. I just wanna see you.”
A heated, lust-filled hunger bled into his voice, and my gut knotted with equal parts dread and guilt. Things were going further with Peter. We had gone out twice, and I knew he liked me. Hell, I liked him too—a lot. I doubted he would approve of me hanging out with a guy I used to sleep with. One who still spoke to me in that way—with hope and dirty intentions … especially when my mind still held tight to his memory in the dead of night.
I swallowed hard, diverting my gaze to the checkered tablecloth. “I, uh …”
“Ah, come on, Lennon,” Dad said. “Don't make the guy beg.”
I smirked at that, suddenly desperate to see Dylan Pierce groveling on his knees. Then, I sighed and nodded. “Okay, let me just throw on something more presentable.”
“You look fine to me,” Dylan said, curling his lips into a salacious smile.
I grumbled for him to give me five minutes, while I crossed my fingers and prayed I could keep my hands off him if he managed to keep his hands away from me.
