Rena could almost see the book taking form in Abby’s brain.
“Well, I could talk to him for you, but only if you let me be the first to read it.”
“Oh, would you? Please? I swear you’ll get to read the very first draft. I’ll even dedicate it to you.”
Rena choked, wondering how Axel would take all this. “Um, I can talk to the guy, but I’m not sure he’ll be up for modeling for romance books.”
“Screw everyone else. I want him formybooks. Just think, I could have exclusive rights to that body! That face! He makes me want to write a historical with Vikings and plundering heroes. Oh, I love that beard and mustache. He has to be mine!”
“Abby?” Rena heard her husband’s voice in the background. “What the hell are you talking about? Who are you talking to?”
“Gotta go. Text me!” Abby hung up.
Rena loved Abby Singer. Abby was the very first romance writer Rena had ever met, and the woman was just as sweet and funny as a reader could ask for.
In any case, if Abby wanted Axel to be her studly model, Rena would make it happen.
But first she had to make him apologize, grovel a little, and communicate like a regular person. If he shut down every time they had a disagreement, they were in for aworldof drama, and that she could do without.
* * *
Axel sat watching…something…that was not at all affiliated with Charles Schultz’s Peanuts. “What the hell?”
He’d put it off, too depressed to watch it. But with nothing else to do on Thursday night but pet the cat or work out, he’d decided to see what Rena had been talking about.
The video should have beenBe My Valentine, Charlie Brown.Instead, he sat watching a live version of CharlieCrown, not Brown, apparently, who wore the cartoon character’s trademark yellow shirt but no pants. He kept waving around his swollen dick and complaining about his crown—a cock ring. And he was looking for love inallthe wrong places.
Axel scrubbed his face, peeking only when Peppermint Pussy and Bossy Marcie started going at it.
I’m going to hell for sure.
Unfortunately, he’d missed the boat on this gift. Totally unintentional, but that’s what he got for buying shit off the street.
He paused the video before a human Snoopenis and Woody-stock got up to no good and found the box that held the rest of the treasures he planned on giving Rena. There had to be some way to use them to get her to talk to him again.
He double-checked the swag he’d been collecting for her. A few more trolls with different-colored hair, some Reese’s Valentine’s candies, a big lollipop that saidLove Me… He peered closer. Damn it. It saidBlow Me.He pulled that aside. He’d had some latex balloons he’d planned to blow up and leave outside her store. A plastic carnation with artificial scent. That would last. A good gift. And for a real treat, he’d gotten the number for a place that had people come and sing in cute costumes, something he might need to whip out now instead of saving it for last. The card readCall Us for the Yiffing Experience.
Maybe he could get them to sing “I’m Sorry” to her.
Except he wasn’t sorry he cared. He still didn’t understand how helping her had been a bad thing. But—
The doorbell rang.
He rose stiffly from his spot on the couch, his aches and pains taking some time to fade. His leg and ribs still bothered him, but his cheek was now just a colorful reminder of a fight, and his shoulder didn’t hurt at all.
As he drew close to the front door, he saw Rena through a side window. His heart raced.
“One minute,” he yelled and hurried back to her box to hide it.
Then he rushed to the door, calmed himself, and opened it. “Hello.”
She looked a little nervous but still just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. Her braided-back hair made her look more sophisticated. Sexy but older. He preferred it loose.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, yes.” He flushed and stood back. “Bitte.”
“Thanks.”
