“But they would want that revenge as badly as Paul does.”
He makes a fair point. Idon’twrite romance, so killing Kiley is totally on the table. But…also feels wrong.
A waft of familiar perfume hits my nose, and I clock Piper’s proximity before she speaks. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but due to the long line, we need to keep things moving. If you’ve already had your book signed, I’m going to have to ask you to make room for the next person.”
“Right, yes.” Henry Jacobsen points at me. “Think about it.”
Yeah, not happening.
Piper leans close, making my breath stall. “Do you mind if I make an announcement that, due to the time, we’re going to limit the rest of the line to one book?”
I can’t speak with her this close. Every inhale brings a fresh wave of her scent that makes me press my fingers into the table for stability. She blinks at me, her green eyes peering into my soul.
“Dor—Mr. James?” she presses.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I croak.
“Great.” She takes the mic while I accept the next book and begin signing. Her announcement is brief, and a murmur of disappointment rolls through the crowd.
“Guess I should have been here earlier,” the woman says. “Thank you for your stories, young man. They keep me company. My husband has been gone for fifteen years, and mykids don’t visit anymore, but I don’t wallow in disappointment about those things when I have one of your riveting stories to distract me.”
My heart pangs. It’s a familiar sentiment. My family had six kids growing up, so I was seldom without a playmate, but only one of them really understood my love of books—Paisley. While my brother and sisters would be out playing football with the neighborhood kids, or building a fort in our backyard, or dividing into teams for capture the flag, I was holed up with a book, losing myself in the worlds of an evil ring or talking dragons. When I ran out of books in our school library, my dad found a box ofHardy Boysnovels at the thrift store that ignited a love of mystery.
Any time I ran into difficult things growing up, I would push aside the tough feelings and lose myself in a book. Is it any wonder I now develop stories of my own?
“Thank you for reading my books,” I say to the woman. “I’m glad they’ve been able to provide an escape.”
Her smile is warm, her eyes misty. The overwhelming urge to give her a hug compels me to stand. But all I do is put out a hand, which she shakes.
I stretch my legs and chat with the next few people while standing, signing title pages, and shaking out my hand between books.
“Mr. James,” Piper asks, approaching my table again. “Can I get you another water? New pen? Anything?”
“I’m okay for now.”
She nods. “Just flag one of us down if you need something.”
This isn’t going anything like I’d imagined when I had Bradley schedule this thing. Call me naïve, but I thought Piper would be a little more impressed to discover I’m D.M. James, evidently her favorite author.
Maybe that’s why she wasn’t stoked. She didn’t want much to do with me in college. Not that I blame her. I had spent a fair amount of time pushing her away. I guess I’d hoped the last few years would have made those interactions matter less—time dulling the pain and all that.
But seeing her tonight hit me with the same jolt I’d felt all those years ago. Maybe she’s grown more beautiful, her features sharper and her style a smidge older, but she still holds the same essence. It’s the same thing I fell for in college.
Too bad she never has been, and never will be, into someone like me.
Ravi stacksthe rest of the signs with enlarged pictures of my book and the event information and tucks them under his arm. “This was a major success, man. Thanks for coming out.”
Piper is locking the door after the last group leaves. It’s difficult not to watch her. I want to ask her to grab a drink with me or something, just to catch up, but her energy tonight has not felt open to that suggestion.
I shake Ravi’s hand. “I should be thanking you for working overtime.”
He clicks his tongue. “Don’t worry about that. If you want to thank us, step in as the guest teach?—”
“Okay,” Piper says loudly, swooping in and nudging Ravi with her shoulder. Her smile is overly wide. “That’s not—he doesn’t have to worry about that. Anyway, thanks for coming, Mr. James.”
Should I be offended that she’s trying to brush me off? “You don’t have to ‘Mr. James’ me.”
Her brows knit in the most adorable way. “I thought we were going for total secrecy.”
