A forced smile thinned out her lips. “Don’t you think it’s time?”
If only you knew. “Mom,” he warned.
“I want grandkids, Denver. You’re my only hope.” Neither had to say aloud why Ryder wasn’t going to produce any anytime soon—if ever. He’d not only sworn off relationships, but women. The day he made that declaration, he and Denver were fishing near the bay. The ring Ryder bought his ex, the same one she’d left in the church dressing room before skipping town, ended up at the bottom of the ocean.
“I’ll see you tonight, Mom.” With a hug, Denver ushered Tillie out the door. Once her feet hit the front porch, she was off at a dash. He watched her back out of his driveway and sent her off with a wave.So much for a coffee run.
He considered telling her about his plan to win Sophie. Mom introduced them over a year ago, hopeful back then that they’d start dating. But as pure as his mom’s intentions always were, she had a way of meddling that could backfire. No way she’d be able to resist ‘helping’ if he confessed his plan. No, this was a secret best kept between as few people as possible.
The ping of his phone drew him from the door. He searched for where he left the device, finally retracing his steps to the upstairs bathroom.
Sophie:Keep the third body. Has our reporter friend been snooping around lately?
Relief washed over him with that single text.Our reporter. It didn’t guarantee that everything was back to normal, but the response alone was the reassurance he needed to stop his head from spinning out of control.
Denver:Nope. Thanks!
Denver:PS – Mom wants to work on the float tonight.
Denver:You and Caroline are invited for dinner @ 6:30. Grilled salmon. Need I say more?
Sophie:What a dirty rotten trick ;) We’ll be there.
Denver waited almost a full minute before giving up on receiving any other responses then shoved the phone in his pocket. Coffee run abandoned, he filled a glass with iced water and set to bringing chapter twenty-two to life.
Sherlock grumbled at Denver as he entered the office. Filled with inspiration and excitement, Denver gave his dog a hearty belly rub before he took a seat at his computer. When his fingers touched the keyboard, words exploded onto the page.
Though Malcom Yates had been invented long before meeting Sophie Whitmore, Denver often believed he would not continue to exist without her. His stories were as much Sophie’s as they were his own. Together they’d talked through and brainstormed three—going on four—books.
Half his series.
“Look at that, Sherlock. Words!” Denver laughed in happiness as he filled page after page. Sherlock hopped to his feet and gave out a solid bark that echoed off the high ceiling. It was probably for a rabbit, but Denver’d take it.
It was quite possible that Sophie Whitmore was his muse. The extra spark to all his stories.
Denver couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if they’d kissed last night. It might’ve destroyed everything. But maybe it would have changed everything for the better. She’d been staring at his lips.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. The reporter, Kat, and Malcom were working so well together, making progress for once when they usually argued against one another. Though Kat had gone home in the scene, she was the reason Malcom was piecing things together on the page.
Denver dared to increase the stakes between them.
She’d been staring at his lips. Of that, Malcom was certain.
Archer, ever the faithful bloodhound, licked his hand. “You’re right. I wanted to kiss her too, boy.”
Denver pushed back from the desk and hopped to his feet, feeling a little as though he owned the world. His readers would flip. More than a handful had hinted—some demanded—that Malcom and Kat needed to get together on an official level, and soon.
More than his readers, he wondered what Sophie would think when she read this draft. He yearned to text her now to tell her what he did. But it would be more exciting to wait for her to read it. Maybe she’d even recognize the pieces of the two of them he’d been weaving into his fictional characters.
Ah, who was he kidding? He couldn’t keep such a big secret about Malcom from Sophie if he tried.
