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“Okay. You’re still burned out. And with that shitty review from that Julius Bird guy, well, fuck them all. Write more of the sexy stuff, you know?” I say.
“There is good money in romance, Levi,” Henry pipes up, nearly knocking me off my chair with surprise. “Way more than in the other genres like mystery and sci-fi. And you know hitting it big with your literary works is a huge long shot.”
Levi glares at him. “So you’re saying I should give up what I’m doing to write sex books full-time? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Henry says nothing.
“Fuck that fancy high-brow shit, Levi,” I say, thinking about Amalia’s tasty tits and how I might find a way to see them again.
Evening workouts at the gym will be a nice start.
Levi pulls on the back of his neck, his face full of stress. “I… needed a creative outlet after the grind of my last book. But I’m not writing romance. No way, no how. I don’t care how many readers there are out there.”
I grab my phone and order up a double cheeseburger and fries from the deli on the corner. I’m fucking starving after my run-in with passionfruit crab cakes, or whatever the hell that shit was.
“Wy, I thought you were going vegetarian? What’s up with the burger?” Henry asks.
“Yeah, well, I’m easing into it. I read you can do it that way.”
Naturally, they scoff. But I don’t care. I need that burger and I know it’s only five minutes away.
“Are you still working on that vegetarian restaurant app?” Henry asks.
“Yes but the issue is, I want to eat in all the restaurants I include in it. That takes a long time.”
Especially when you end up eating things like passionfruit crab cakes.
I watch out the front window for my delivery. “So Levi, do you think there’s any money to be made with your book, the Ryder Night one?” I ask.
Levi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter because it’s not getting published.”
“Let me say I wrote it,” I say, not ready to give up.
Jesus. Would I really do that, just to see Amalia again?
The answer is yes.
Levi shakes his head. “Doesn’t work like that, Wy. Look, I know you want me to say yes to the book so you can get in that woman’s pants?—”
“Hey, now. That’s not fair,” I interrupt, even though he’s got my number.
He waves me away. “Whatever. I appreciate your letting the woman down. I hope that means case closed. That we can forget this ever happened and that the manuscript dies a quiet death, like it should. I’m still a little worried about being discovered, but that’s my issue. I’m sure everything will be fine now.” He turns his attention to watch a new episode of Jeopardy with Henry.
Dammit. Now I have no reason to see Amalia, except to get back to her and shoot her down again. She’s really going to hate me after this.
I can just see her at the gym, spotting me from across the room, and heading in the opposite direction to avoid me.
That’s never happened to me before, but I guess there’s always a first time.
Which makes this all the bigger challenge.
15
AMALIA
I rubmy hands up and down my arms like I’m freezing. Thing is, the office is actually on the warm side. It always is.
I’m buzzing. That’s the only word I can think to describe it. Since my meeting with Wyatt Zimmerman the night before, I’ve had next-level goosebumps. I barely slept all night. And it’s not only because he could possibly, hopefully, talk his friend into publishing his novel, thus saving my career.
