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“You’ll be fine.” Gabriel pushes on the handle. “We’ll go in together and—”
“No,” I yell just as the door flies open. Wide, wide open.
Hundreds of people turn.
Donna’s intro stutters out.
The room goes silent, then breaks into a repeat of the lobby. People stare. Phones flash. Gabriel’s name comes from all over. On stage, Donna’s face takes on the consistency of granite.
Gabriel doesn’t stall out the way I do. Like someone pressed hisgobutton, he puts on a counterfeit smile, transforming from private Gabriel to public Gabriel split-second fast.
“Totally my fault we’re late.” He leads us inside. “Jess is all yours now. But Iamgoing to need her back later.” He winks.Winks. And everyone eats up his cheesiness. “Smile, Escalator Girl,” he says in my ear, wrapping his arm around my shoulder like we’re pausing for a red-carpet photo op. “Bad PR to look grumpy.”
“Jessica.” A woman stands from the middle row of seats. “Is your next book about werewolves? Will Gabriel Wade pose for your cover?”
Time slows. My brain googleswerewolvesandGabriel Wadeand gets an instant hit. The guy I tripped into in the lobby surrounded by groupies? The guy who hijacked my first kiss? The guy stuck to my side like a flashing sign making everyone notice me?
He’s a werewolf. Or at least he plays one on the hottest show on TV.
chapter 6
Gabe
“Help people out so they’ll owe you.”
~ Meredith Morgan
(played by the award-winning Meredith Wade)
Raising Ryder: Episode92
I can tell the second Jess connects me with Jax, my character onThe Pack, and she’s not a fan. Her mouth tightens, her eyes darken, and she steps far enough away that I can’t touch her without calling attention to the space she’s shoved between us. My plan to use her as a cover is unwinding faster than my career.
Most females fall into two categories when they meet me—nervous and nervy. Both would work. Jess is neither. Nervous girls giggle, stutter, look away. Nervy girls are bold. They snap selfies without asking, put their hands where they haven’t been invited, and offer body parts along with colored Sharpies. After some super shitty choices, I don’t sign skin anymore.
I’d break my rule for Jess though. Hell, I’d buy the Sharpie. But I can’t see any scenario in which she asks me to autograph her.
“Jessica.” Someone shouts from the back. “Isyour new book about werewolves?”
“No.” Her tone makes the idea sound dirty. Not hot dirty. Roadkill dirty.
The lady who asked doesn’t look happy.
Powered by a compulsive urge to help Jess out, I steal back the space between us and reach for my southern drawl. “Maybe all can help me convince my girl werewolves are sexy as hell.” My Matthew McConaughey works on every female in the room. Except Jess who cringed when I saidmy girland winced when I saidhell.
“Jessica, are you planning on joining us or should we start without you?” The salty question comes from the skinny, forty-something chick on stage promoting herself under the guise of introductions when we walked in. Her designer clothes, Paris Hilton hair, and cemented-on smile aren’t enough to thaw the ice in her eyes or soften her canine-like nose.
Jess squeezes her wrist and glances at the door. I recognize that look. She’s getting ready to bail.
“Go get ’em, baby.” I kiss her cheek so fast she doesn’t have time for an evasive maneuver and nudge her forward.
The glare she unleashes has me checking for third-degree burns and contradicts her immediate paralysis.
“Have you never done this before?” I ask for her ears only.
I barely catch the small negative shake of her head.
“You’ve got this.” Rooting for this girl I barely know, I squeeze her hand.
