At least that was how I hoped it would go. There were quite a few variables that I couldn’t control, as well as one I could—my performance—and they all made the scenario that much more challenging.
“Greatcrowd,” Meredith said as the quaint shop filled between the bookshelves.
“That’s Nia. She’s a force.”
“Getting close to standing room only.” Meredith turned around and craned her neck. “Hey, is that Bucket Hat sans bucket hat?”
Owen and I hadn’t spoken in the few days since the inexplicable kiss. I still needed to pick a date for open play on a public court.
I turned around, and sure enough, Owen was standing in the back, bareheaded and chatting with a petite, gray-haired woman.
I gasped at the sight of him in a white linen button-down with his dark baby mullet tamed. Despite the omnipresent hat and slobby clothing at CPA, he clearly knew how to dress in the real world.
“That’s weird. Why is he here?” Meredith asked.
For an instant, I considered that it was because he knew I’d be at the signing, but we’d never discussed my connection to Nia.
“He’s a big reader. Maybe he likes her stuff?”
I could see how he’d be into the haunted house vibes ofFormido, butSpeak Softlywas about a different kind of terror. Nia had told me her publisher had pushed back because of the tonal difference between her first and second books, forcing her to go to battle for the dark feminist horror novel. Given the prerelease reviews forSpeak Softly, Nia had been right to fight.
“I’m sorry”—Meredith leaned closer to me, still torqued around in her chair and staring—“but he looksgood.”
I ignored her and watched Owen chat with the woman, hoping to catch his eye so I could wave at him, but he was too engrossed to glance away from her.
The store’s marketing manager came out to introduce a yellow-jumpsuited Nia to the crowd, and Nia proceeded to charm her audience for an hour straight. When it came time for questions, everyone seemed too starstruck to speak first, so I raised my hand to ask about her writing process even though I had a front-row seat to it.
I could almostfeelOwen’s eyes on the back of my head after I’d asked the question.
Once Nia finished, everyone lined up to get books signed. I was well acquainted with the process, so we managed to maneuver our way to the front of the very long line. A quick congratulatory hug and photo later, Meredith and I were munching on book cover cookies—creepy because the cover featured a phallic-looking mushroom—plotting where we wanted to have dinner.
“Bucket Hat incoming,” Meredith said behind her hand because her mouth was full. “Hope it’s not too awkward for you post-make-out sesh.”
“It was a split-second kiss,nota make-out,” I hissed. I squared my shoulders, fixed a smile on my face, and turned to greet Owen. “Hey there!”
“Well, this is a surprise.” He grinned at me, then turned to Meredith. “Good to see you again. How’s the foot?”
“Hiya.” She bobbed her head and pointed at her boot. “Home stretch. Thanks again for all of your help when it happened.”
“Of course, glad you’re doing better. Colton really misses playing with you.”
The sweet-faced older woman appeared at Owen’s side, clutchingSpeak Softlyagainst her chest.
“Oh, hey, you’re done already,” he said to her. He refocused on us. “This is my mom, Cynthia. Mom, this is my pickleball student Brooke and her friend Meredith.”
“So nice to meet you both,” Cynthia said warmly as she shook each of our hands.
Cynthia had sparkling eyes and a smile that didn’t quit, and I liked her immediately.
I nodded toward her book. “Did you readFormidoas well?”
“I did, and it was terrifying.” She shivered her shoulders. “I can’t wait for this one.”
“I read an early copy; you’re going to love it,” I assured her. “What about you?” I asked Owen.
“I did. I read anything my mom tells me to read. She has impeccable taste.”
Cynthia chuckled at him.
