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I rubbed my chin, grinning, because that was exactly what I’d done. “Writer’s block,” I said by way of explanation. “I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t think, and when my deadline started creeping up on me, I knew I had to go somewhere else in the hope inspiration would find me. I really did just get in my car and start driving. I stopped in various hotels and rental places along the way, but it wasn’t until I got to White Peak that I felt like it was a place I could be inspired. And then I met you.”
Her cheeks flushed at the memory of our first meeting. It’d been nothing special—it hadn’t even been in White Peak. She’d had a bad date in one of the nearest towns and gone to a bar after to drink. I still didn’t know if she’d even had a place to stay that night, but we met at the bar and one thing turned into another.
I’d known next to nothing about her until she’d walked into the restaurant for the blind date Holley had arranged. As soon as I knew where her bakery was, there was no way I could keep going.
There was a certain magic to White Peak, and the more time I spent with Piper, the more I realized a whole lot of it was centered around her.
At least in my opinion.
The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to leave.
“That’s amazing,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t fathom that. You just got in your car in the hope you’d find inspiration.”
“Just as well I did. I found it, didn’t I?”
Another blush. “I’m just glad I could help you, even if it did start off a little weird.”
“It was the first time anyone has ever walked up to me at a date and told me they aren’t interested in dating,” I admitted. “And I’m not going to lie, it did spark a new story idea.”
She raised her eyebrows, her cheeks still tinged with light pink. “Great. Can I get a commission on that?”
I laughed and finally finished my beer. “That’s not how this works. And I’m never writing another baker again. Your life is exhausting.”
“You don’t complain when you get free food.”
“Hey, I cooked for you.”
“And I bet you’ll leave the dishes for me, too.”
“Well, I was invited to write…”
She waved a hand as she got up. “Fine, fine. You write your book, and don’t forget my witty comment about how bad your baking is.”
I saluted her and moved to the kitchen table. I had cleaned up after myself except for doing the dishes, and she wasn’t fooling me with that complaining. There was a damn dishwasher in the kitchen, so she was hardly doing the dishes.
I took my laptop from my bag and booted it up, then went in search of a power outlet for my charger. There was one on the wall next to the fridge, so I plugged it in and trailed the cable along the floor.
I was stuck as hell on this scene. I had no idea what to do now—ironically, the progression of the relationship with my characters somewhat mirrored mine and Piper’s. They’d met on a blind date, the heroine wasn’t interested in dating, and the guy was open to it. The only difference was that he didn’t need her for research. They were almost rivals as his grandmother owned a cafe and didn’t take kindly to a new person moving to town and opening a bakery.
I really needed more inspiration.
The time for their first kiss was coming, and for the first time in my fucking life, I was stuck. I didn’t know how or when or where it would happen, and until I wrote it, I wasn’t going to get any further.
I typed a sentence, then deleted it straight away. I did the same thing three more times until I finally had one, then glanced up.
Piper was loading the dishwasher, and I had a full view of her every single time she bent over. Her jeans hugged her lower body perfectly, and I couldn’t help but keep glancing at her ass every single time she put something in the dishwasher.
Fuck.
This wasn’t helping.
I sighed.
Piper turned around. “What’s up?”
“No words.” I saved the document and shut the laptop lid, then slumped forward. “This book is a slog.”
She closed the dishwasher and set it going. “I’d imagine some are, sometimes. I love what I do but God knows I need a break every now and then. I’m actually closing on Monday when this marathon is done.”
“You are?”
“Just for the day,” she said quickly. “But Felicity usually has Sundays off, and I can’t remember the last time I had a day off.”
“When’s that? Three days?”
She nodded. “If we can get through this weekend, it’ll be fine. Is there anything I can do to help you get motivated?”
