“Oh, I might use that as a title. That’s sweet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Were you really just dictating while unpacking?”
She shrugged. “Do you have a problem with how I write my books?”
“No, I just have never met somebody who can do two things at once like that.”
“I’m a whiz at multitasking. I can also walk and chew gum at the same time, eat while watching television, and read while wearing a moisturizing mask on my face.”
“That sounds magical,” I said dryly.
Her lips curved up, but she didn’t laugh. “Should I take that to mean you can’t dictate while unpacking?”
“I can’t dictate at all.” Maybe that was why I was feeling so sour. “I’ve tried. I don’t talk like I type. It’s weird.”
“I don’t either.”
“I just heard you dictating.”
“A sex scene,” she said. “I dictate those and dialogue mostly. The sex scenes are generic. I block them in my mind, like a director might. I just get the basics out and then jazz them up when editing.”
I’d never really considered that.
“Trolls and elves don’t have sex in your world, right?” she prodded.
“I’m sure they do. I just don’t write about it.”
“Must be nice.” She leaned over, scooped up the lingerie, and tossed it into a box before straightening. “Do you need something specific?”
Do I?“I guess not,” I said. “I just wanted to drop that off. I was taking a break from words. You know, a walk. I decided to stop by while I was out, to kill two things off my list.”
“How practical,” she drawled, her lips curving.
“I’m a practical guy.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Bree rolled her neck back and forth.
I turned to leave. There was literally nothing else to say.
She spoke before I could disappear. “I didn’t know you lived here.”
I turned back. “How did you end up here?” She’d given me the opening. I was going to take it.
“It just sort of happened. I was looking for a new place to live. I wanted to leave snow behind. There’s little I loathe more than snow.”
“I feel that.” I tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.
“Savannah is one of my favorite cities. It was between here and New Orleans. The hurricanes were the tipping point.”
“We get hurricanes here,” I argued.
“Yeah, but not as many. Plus… I like the idea of a paranormal writer living in Savannah. I hate the marketing aspect of what we do. Between the cemeteries and the themed drinks here, most of my marketing will be easy.”
I rubbed my cheek. “I hate the marketing too. I don’t do a lot of it.”
“I try to be as generic as possible. Photos of my themed cocktails. I’ll do some tours here, some reader events.”
I stiffened. “Yes, you’re great at reader events.”
