“You’ve been dodging me,” he said quietly, shattering normal.
“Have I?”
Before he could press her further, he was pulled away. “Denver dear,” said Geraldine Franks. “I do hope you remembered some extra books? I’d like a set signed to me, and another for my sister. She lives in Oregon. Just tell me how much I owe you.”
“Ordered these for the host as a thank you gift for having me,” he said loud enough for most of the group to hear, handing Sophie the two boxes. “Thought you might like to share them with the group.”
“Thank you.” She watched Denver being pulled away—literally—by Geraldine. For such a tiny, petite woman, she had quite the grip. Of all the spot-on gifts her secret admirer had sent, why not these macadamia chocolates? Sophie considered herself a generous person, except when it came to these Hawaiian delicacies.Guess it really can’t be Denver.
In fact, Sophie hadn’t received a single gift since Saturday morning. At first, she was relieved. Secret admirers could be sweet or stalkerish. A fine line danced there in the middle. This morning, though, when nothing came for her in the mail or ended up on her bed for the fourth day in a row, she was a little forlorn. As much as she hesitated to admit it, she kind of liked someone doting on her.
“Can everyone take a seat please?” Sophie called over the gaggle of people mingling throughout the large space. But her soft voice wasn’t enough to wrestle this crowd into submission. Not with a real-live author—local or not—joining them.
Denver sat on the edge of a couch, nearest his box of books. Before that stupid kiss and these pesky feelings it conjured, she wouldn’t have hesitated to sit beside him. In fact, as the host, it seemed kind of fitting to do so. But before she took a single step, Annie dropped into the seat instead.
Sophie’s fingers curled tightly around her notebook, crushing the soft edges before she realized what she did.Am I . . . jealous?“Thank you everyone for coming,” she said, finding it least awkward to stay standing. “Feel free to help yourself to snacks and beverages at any time, just please do so without disrupting the conversation.” She ran through a few other house rules, mostly because they had three new members joining them tonight.
More than once, Annie whispered something to Denver during Sophie’s welcome spiel to the new members.
“Last but not least,” she said, “we have a special guest with us tonight—the legendary mystery author, Denver Grant.” She tried and failed to hide the smirk that forced Annie to halt her whispering.What is wrong with me?But Sophie couldn’t seem to stop. “Denver, why don’t you come stand up here in front of the group so I can properly introduce you?”
Geraldine wasn’t the only one who raised an eyebrow at her. They’d had guest authors a couple of times before, and they always allowed the author to sit while they discussed the book, then ask them questions afterward. They were only ever called to the front at the end.
Coffee cup in hand, Denver hopped from his spot. He sent a flicker of gratitude to Sophie, causing her to relax. She was doing him a favor. That was all.
“Denver Grant is the author of seven—going on eight—mystery novels. He’s lived in Sunset Ridge since the age of eight, when his dad retired from the military and decided to permanently settle his family in Alaska. After college, he joined the Army himself.” Sophie waited through the claps andthank you for your servicecomments. “He’s been dabbling with stories since middle school, but didn’t finish his first novel until his deployment to Afghanistan. That was where Detective Malcom Yates was born.”
“You sure know a lot about him,” Harold Davies commented from the seat beside Sophie.
Sophie felt a light blush creep onto her cheeks. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”He’s my best friend.“Denver, don’t let me do all the talking.”
“Thanks for having me here tonight,” Denver said. “I don’t want to take over your group.” With that disclaimer came a grin. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on the story. Pretend I’m not even here.” He lifted his cup in toast, and that’s when Sophie spotted the note and phone number scribbled in pink below his name on the cup, signed by someone named Trina.Call me. The local barista, no doubt.
“Why don’t we start with our typical questions?” Geraldine suggested, probably suspecting something was quite wrong with Sophie. Just as well. Let the woman take over. She’d run the book club for years. Sophie was still getting her feet wet, and right now her head was far from on straight. “What do you think of the main character, Detective Malcom Yates?”
In two seconds flat, the quiet room erupted in excitement. Everyone had an opinion to share and was eager to be heard. Eager more so for the author to hear their opinions, or so the constant glances at Denver from the various speakers suggested.
“Is it always like this?” Denver asked Sophie quietly.
“No, not usually.”
Denver took another sip of coffee. The pink lettering taunted Sophie. “Trina, huh?” she said quietly, though she was pretty certain Harold overheard.
Denver spun his cup, offering Sophie the unobstructed view, revealing three pink hearts as well. “What’s the matter, Soph? Jealous?”
“Of course not.” Sophie flipped her notebook ahead two pages, then back three. Anything to avoid Denver’s amused stare. No matter how much she wanted to pretend she didn’t care, Sophie Whitmore was, in fact,veryjealous.
