Derek’s eyes flare and he holds up his hands in surrender. “All right. Message received. I hope you understand that I’m just advocating for you?”
“I do.” I sigh. “And I appreciate your concern. But you have enough to worry about with the contracts and press releases. I’ll handle my life.”
For a second, we stare at each other, the air tight between us. Then Derek sighs, that fond, resigned look creeping back into his expression. “Fine. Just don’t go getting all Nicholas Sparks on me. We’ve got deadlines.”
“Noted,” I say, and though I try to keep my face neutral, I can’t quite stop the smirk tugging at my mouth. “Now, will you please go get Penny? You won’t be able to miss her. Stunning redhead with green eyes.”
“On it,” he says.
“And Derek,” I say, waiting for him to look back at me. “Be nice.”
“I’ll be… how do you yokels say it out here… sweet as pie.”
Then he’s gone and I’m alone again—just me and the steady thud of a nervous pulse in my ears.
I sneak another glance out at the table, trying to imagine chatting with readers and not sounding like an idiot. And not for the first time I wonder if this was the right call. I love this world I’ve built, these characters, this life on paper. I’ve been well served by anonymity. But out here? It feels too precarious.
The door creaks open again, and Derek steps in—with Penny right behind him.
My pulse immediately steadies.
She’s wearing a pale blue dress that hits just above the knee, crimson hair down in soft waves, cheeks flushed from the rush of being late. For a second, I forget about the crowd outside because I’m dazzled. She smiles when she sees me, and that one look is enough to pull the ground out from under my feet.
“Hey,” she says, warm and breathless. “Sorry—I practically jogged from the parking garage. There are people everywhere.”
“Don’t apologize,” I murmur, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Before Derek can say anything, I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips—quick but definite. She startles slightly, her hand brushing my arm, and I feel her smile against my lips before she pulls back.
When I glance up, Derek’s frozen by the door, one brow raised so high it might detach.
“Right,” he says finally. “So that’s happening.”
I ignore him, turning my attention to Penny. “I’m really, really glad you’re here. Because I’m about ready to bolt and it will take both you and Derek to hold me down.”
Penny laughs and shakes her head. “First, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She slides her fingers along my sleeve, eyes bright. “Second, you’re far too brave to run now. But honestly, Sam, there are so many people out there. The line snakes around the corner. You’re like… famous, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it.”
“I’m not famous,” I mutter.
Penny laughs, the sound quick and delighted. “Whatever. And it’s mostly women,” she adds, glancing toward the front. “I only spotted a couple guys in line.”
“That’s the target demographic,” Derek says briskly. “Romance readers are passionate. Loyal. Slightly terrifying, but in a good way. And mostly female.”
Penny turns back to me with a teasing smile. “You’re about to make a roomful of women swoon, Sam. Yourealize that, right?”
“I doubt that,” I say, but my ears are already burning.
Derek gestures at my shirt. “The Jack Daniels tee isn’t going to hurt your odds. You’ve got the whole rugged-country-guy-with-a-soft-heart thing going. It’s basically catnip for romance readers.”
Penny bites her lip, amusement written across her face. “He’s not wrong.”
I grin and shake my head, trying to play it off. “Y’all done critiquing my branding, or should I start flexing too?”
“Maybe save that for the afterparty,” Derek mutters.
Before I can fire back, the store manager—a petite woman with gray curls and an armful of clipboards—appears in the doorway. “Mr. Rochelle? We’re ready to open the doors. The crowd’s excited.”
Mr. Rochelle.I’ll never get used to that.
