Hunter didn’t tease me. Instead, his voice came low, thoughtful. “I used to skate when I was a kid. Not well. I fell once, hard, and after that… I quit. Funny, isn’t it? One fall and I decided it wasn’t worth failing at again.”
My chest tightened at the vulnerability in his tone. “You’ve been skating ever since, just on different ice,” I whispered, but he only gave me a small, wry smile, eyes still on the rink.
Across the ice, Lucas Haynes waved, already striding toward us with that purposeful grin that meant parade talk was imminent. “Goat float logistics,” Hunter muttered under his breath, and I choked on my cocoa.
By the time Lucas left us with a list of things that apparently needed wheels, Hunter had been pulled aside by Connor, leaving me free to duck over to the snack table. Brooke was already there, balancing a plate of the teeny tiny pies, her gaze flicking back and forth between Alice skating with the older Haynes kids and Willow toddling along the rink’s edge.
“Hey, Brooke.” I grabbed a cup of cocoa. “How’s it going?”
“I’ve been thinking about the Trevelyan signing…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s silly, maybe. I mean, I don’t want to overstep. This is your store, and you already trusted me to handle the ticketing, and?—”
“Brooke,” I interrupted gently, “you sold out a town hall in, what, a morning? If anyone’s allowed to have ideas, it’s you.”
That earned me a grin. “Okay. Well… the chatter online hasn’t slowed down. People are still asking if there’s any way they can come, if there’s standing room, overflow seating, anything. We can’t fit more, and every ticket’s gone.”
“I know, I’ve already reordered his books, and at this rate, I’ll need to do it again.”
Her eyes widened. “See? That’s exactly it. There’s more demand than we can meet. Which made me wonder…” She hesitated again, then plunged on. “What if, as well as the signing, we thought about something virtual? Like a livestream, or even just a recorded Q&A. People could still order signed copies from you, and you could ship them out after. The fan groups would go wild.”
My mind started racing, numbers slotting into place like a math problem.
She forged ahead. “We’d need cameras, a decent mic, maybe a moderator. But if people are desperate enough to pay for a virtual seat, plus the cost of a signed book…” she trailed off, and the math wasn’t just good—it was dazzling.
“Wow,” I said, lost for words.
Brooke brightened, emboldened now. “Exactly! And think about the reach—you’d have fans posting about it, sharing clips, tagging The Story Lantern. Free publicity on top of actual sales.”
I blinked, a little overwhelmed, half by her excitement and half by the sheer scale of what she was suggesting. “Brooke, that’s… a lot of work?—”
“I’m excited to do it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be doing all this for free. I can’t?—”
She cut me off with a quick shake of her head, her smile fond but firm. “Don’t even start. I love this!”
As if on cue, Willow tottered over, cheeks flushed and wrapped both arms around my leg. Then she tipped her head back, holding her arms up as if she expected the world. “Carry Two! Carry Two!”
I laughed softly. “Well, when the boss demands it…” I bent to scoop her up, her giggle muffled in my scarf as she patted at my face with her clumsy little hands.
Brooke grinned at us, eyes warm. “See? You give more than you realize.”
And I couldn’t think of a single argument against that.
“Can I ask… do you think Callum would help if I…”
“What?” she asked.
I hesitated, heat creeping up my neck. I didn’t want to take advantage, and the thought of asking embarrassed me more than I expected. Still, the words pushed out. “I just need some legal advice. Off-the-record.”
“Of course he will, just ask him.”
“You’re sure?”
“He loves giving advice!” she said with a grin, “I’ll let him know you want to talk to him.”
