Archer’s hand dashes toward me and he cupsthe crumb. He turns his palm down, depositing my mess into the bin below the table.
“Thanks.”
He nods and dives into a discussion about what will happen next in our short story. He insists our main characters run into one of the lesser bad guys and their treatment of them sparks a dark memory in the male lead. I counter with the suggestion of a near miss so the capture will have more impact when it happens closer to the last act. Archer tells me I’m shying away from the meat. I inform him that we must season the meat before serving, throwing his phrase back at him. He claims that is exactly what he is trying to do. I go for two more scones.
This is officially the toughest writing project I have ever attempted. We will get it done, but I’m not sure we’ll finish on time.
Something taps at the kitchen’s back door. Archer sets his second scone on the countertop and goes to open the door. A letter zips into the room and hovers over his scone.
“Oh no,” we say in unison.
Because from the look he gives me, he alsorecognizes the two seals on the note.
Archer and Colette,
Quinnand I are meeting about some other business dealings, but we wanted to check in. You’ll have a draft by the end of this week, right? Please send it as soon as possible. We wrote to the Leafshire Cove mayor, and he said he wants you two to read excerpts for the Snowlight festival there. It will be a fantastic promo. We’re sure you’ll agree.
And if you don’t, well, Archer, I don’t need to remind you what we spoke about earlier. Colette, I’m sure you want to help your new community by contributing to the festival.
Anyhoo, send that draft over when you have it! We are holding our breath!
Yours,
Quinn and Avalon
“They knowexactly how pushy they are being,” I say, actually pretty annoyed.
“Definitely,” Archer says.
“Should we pushback? Are you truly miserable? Are we completely unhinged for thinking we can write this before Snowlight?”
The vampire-goblin’s gaze drifts to the glowing coals of the oven in the front corner of the kitchen. Two maplekittens doze nearby, their tails tucked tightly under them.
“I’m not as miserable as I thought I would be,” he says quietly.
Ouch. “Okay. That’s fair. I’m pushing you into a genre you don’t enjoy and I’m getting more of a say than you because it’s my genre.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll try to compromise more, all right?” I don’t want to quit this. I like spending time with this handsome, complicated vampire. As intimidating as he looks, he has shown kindness, and he’s shy, really. I like all of that. I like it too much.
He meets my gaze. “I appreciate that, Colette.”
The way he says my name like it’s precious has butterflies dancing through my bloodstream. If we dated, would he bite me? Would I want him to? Yes, yes, I would.
We discuss the full story, doing a verbal outline. Archer’s dark ruby-red eyes shine as we bend and flow within our creative ideas.
“Organizationis like a turn-on for you, isn’t it?”
He barks a laugh. “It is. The ability to make my house payment is a close second, so I’m very happy this is working better now.”
I hate that he is struggling for money. I’ve been there. We never had much growing up. I wonder sometimes if I would have been taller if I had eaten more than thin soups for the majority of my childhood.
We finish our treat, trade a few barbs about the color pink, and then leave with a wave to Kaya and Sios, who are cleaning up an empty table.
“I’ve never seen a cat slide a teacup off a table with good rather than evil intent,” Archer says.
I laugh. “Sios is a wonder. He got those cups right in the correct slots in Kaya’s cleaning cart.”
