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With some quick application of makeup, I hastily turn my face into a mix of the heroes I’m wearing and head for the front of the bus where Chase is doing the responsible task of driving us.
He’s facing forward and looking at the road—which is obviously a good thing—but that also means I have time to stumble up through the rocking aisle and sit in the passenger’s seat before he notices my getup at all.
Once my butt hits the captain’s seat beside his, Chase looks once and then triple takes so fast his head looks like a cracking whip swinging between me and the road.
His chuckle is instantaneous and throaty, and I immediately think of five more dog costumes to order off the internet pronto. I won’t since the moment is completely topical, but man, to make him laugh like that again, I would do nearly anything, including spending a large portion of my life savings on apparel meant for a canine.
“Only you could look as good as Benji in that stuff, Brooke.”
I pick up my ass slightly and Hulk smash on the dashboard, and Chase’s laughter renews all over again. “Sit down, sit down. I’m laughing too hard to have you that close to the windshield.”
I pretend to fly back into my seat, and Benji barks his approval from his current spot on the couch behind us.
“What are you doing, crazy lady? Playing dress-up?”
“Well, Robin, Batman’s job is to lead and save those who need saving, and I could see that you were on the brink of exhaustion.” I shrug. “But of course, our dynamic duo has cities to save, and we can’t stop, so I thought I’d entertain you for a bit. It’s the least I could do after you ShamWowed my blouse into working condition again, hooked us and unhooked us from every campsite we’ve entered, and fought off a squirrel villain to boot.”
“Oh man. All that, and I don’t even get to play Batman for just a little bit?”
I scoff. “You’re good, but I’m very obviously the star of this show, Chase. I mean, look at me.”
“You got me there.” His throaty chuckle is back. “Everything is as it should be. You’re the star of the bus, and River is the star of the book.”
My breath catches in my throat. The blockage is a combination of nervousness—something any mention of this freaking book always brings to the surface—surprise, and maybe just maybe, a little bit of awe.
“You think River is the star of the book?”
“You don’t?” he asks in reply, glancing from the road to me and back again while his big, strong arms hold on to the wheel and make adjustments as needed.
I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, I sure as hell didn’t write it that way. Clive and his every Chase-ism is the character I adored. The one I gave most of my attention and love to. I didn’t know how to write River any other way than to base her entirely on myself, and that was mostly for pervy and selfish reasons.
“Oh, Brooke, come on. The scene in the break room where she uses all of the people’s lunches to put on an impromptu play?”
I still don’t say anything. I can’t. Sure, that was funny, but it was mostly the crazy ramblings of a woman who lives alone and is by herself ninety-five percent of the time. When you’re talking to yourself, even the food starts to have a personality. I took that scene directly from the near-hallucinatory masterpiece I’d enacted for Benji in my apartment that night.
“And the review River does live on air for food she’s allergic to and hasn’t even tasted?” he adds, and his eyes light up with humor. “I lost my shit over that. It was funny and heartfelt, and somehow didn’t even insult the chef.”
Again, I took that from a food review I did on Benji’s new dog food—for Benji, mind you—when I was a bottle of wine deep and procrastinating like a mothertrucker on Garden of Forever.
“River takes nothing and turns it into something, Brooke. And that, that’s what star power is.”
For a second, I don’t know how to exist anymore. Because those words are some of the most book-worthy I’ve ever heard, and Chase Dawson was the one to come up with them.
At a loss for any other option, I do what I do best—deflect. “Okay, Shakespeare, whoa. Do I have your permission to use that line in the book without fear of vindication, cries of plagiarism, or a lawsuit for a byline?”
“Oh, come on.” He rolls his eyes all the way through a chuckle. It’s a big eye roll since I can see it, even though he doesn’t reroute his gaze from the direction of the highway.
“What? That was a great line! For real. I’m using it. I suggest you just go along with it if you don’t want to face the consequences.”
