It was like being raised in a lesbian household except with two houses and moms that weren’t a couple. They actually didn’t even like each other that much, just respected what they each brought to the table. It was kind of like that eighties show, My Two Dads. That show was how I learned that families come in all genders and sizes. I should see if it’s on Netflix. I could go for some Paul Reiser comedy right about now.
No, Aggi and I weren’t bullied for having two moms. We were bullied for being on the nerdier side. Not that either of us really cared. We had each other, our love of extreme sports, and the nursing staff at the hospital every time I fell off a skateboard and broke my arm.
Ah, how I long for the simplicity of childhood sometimes.
“You’re not sorry,” Aggi says, reminding me once again this is why she’s my best friend. She gets me. “But I don’t care. I was just checking in to see how it’s going.”
“Slow. If Bill would quit moving around upstairs!” I look up and say that part loudly for his benefit. Who knows if he hears me.
“Todd.”
I know what’s coming. “Don’t say it.”
“You can’t stop me,” she says quickly before continuing. “If you would add the soundproofing insulation to the ceiling like you were supposed to in the first place, you wouldn’t have this problem.”
“Listen Agnes—”
“And here we go,” she mumbles.
Tossing my pen on my desk, I lean back in my chair, making myself comfortable for this next speech. “I bought this place so I could flip it. This is not a permanent situation. Living on the property saves me a pretty penny, and as soon as it’s done, Bill and I are out of here. Therego—”
“Herego?”
“Thereby—”
“Ohmygod, you’re so annoying—”
“Putting up more insulation is a waste of my time.”
She pauses far longer than any normal person would. So much so, I have to look at the phone to make sure we haven’t been disconnected.
Finally she speaks. “Are you finished yet?”
“Yes. My rant is over.”
“You realize you would waste less time taking a staple gun to your ceiling, than the amount of time lost whistling for Bill to shut up and having to start over.”
“Ah, my dear Agnes,” I say haughtily, “one man’s waste is another man’s fertilizer.”
A spraying sound comes through the phone and Aggi begins to choke.
It takes a few seconds, but finally she pulls herself together enough to berate me. “Dammit, Todd. I just spit water all over my laptop.”
“Yet another reason why you should never argue with me.”
“Okay.” She sounds resolved. Interesting. “I quit. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Sighing, I decide to give her what she’s asking for and ease what is sure to be a deadline of anxieties. For the sake of compromise and all that. “Relax, Ags. I’m almost finished. Bill isn’t usually this loud. I think he ate some bad seafood or something and has the runs. The toilet has been flushing more than normal.”
She groans again. “You are so inappropriate.”
“You love it.” She does. I know she does. She is as uptight and anxious as I am relaxed and going with the flow. We balance each other out in a weird sort of way. She’s the yin to my yang. The Beavis to my Butthead. The Dumb to my Dumber. We wouldn’t have it any other way. “When are you coming home for a visit, anyway? Your mother has been calling me to come change lightbulbs, which means she’s lonely.”
Aggi snorts, actually snorts a laugh, putting me on high alert. “No, it means you’re a sucker for doing her busy work around the house. You know she has a book club at her house every Wednesday, right?”
My eyebrows shoot up slightly. “Since when does she read books?”
“Oh it’s not the kind of books I write or the kind your mom reads. I’m sure it’s something like the documented investigation notes on what really happened to the Titanic, or something. She also has a boyfriend.”
“She what?!” I shake my head. “I can’t believe she hoodwinked me into thinking she only needed some human contact. With a new boy toy she probably gets more contact than either one of us. You know those strong yet silent types.”
“I’m going to ignore that you just went there. But I will say it’s your own fault. My mother is sixty, not dead. She could probably run circles around both of us in the energy department.”
Hmph. That’s what I get for being a nice person. Swindled by the elderly-ish.
“But since you asked,” Aggi continues, “I’m going to be in Portland in a couple weeks for a signing.”
Sitting straight up in my chair, she has piqued my attention. “That’s only five hours away.”
“I know. It’s a bit of a trek so don’t even think about coming to see me. I just didn’t want you to see it on social media or something and wonder why I didn’t tell you. I’m actually kind of bummed to be going since Spencer can’t come with me.”
“So take me.”
“What? Why would I take you?”
I second guess myself momentarily, but upon further introspection realize this is the best idea I’ve had since making Bill my building manager for when I’m away. Granted, he doesn’t really manage anything, just makes sure no one breaks in to steal my circular saw, but it gives him purpose.
“You would take me because I’m your narrator.” She makes a hmm sound and I know now is the time to put on some pressure. “I’m part of your book world now whether you like it or not, and I want to see what it’s all about. Who are the readers I’m touching with my sweet words?”
“They’re my sweet words, Todd.”
“Who am I giving a verbal hug to in her time of need?”
“You’re losing me. If you’re going to be weird like this, you can stay home.”
Straightening in my chair, I prepare to beg. “Come on, Aggi. I can be your assistant.”
“First, I have like four assistants already because my publisher insists I have plenty of help. Second, Hawk Weaver is my narrator.”
“Then I’ll just sit quietly and observe who the audience really is.”
She goes quiet and I envision her biting her lip or picking at her fingernails while she thinks.
Lowering my voice to channel her popular narrator, I say, “You know you want to.”
Finally she sighs. “Fine. But you have to make a choice. Are you going to out yourself as Hawk Weaver? Because that’s going to give you a lot of attention and more people will come to my table.”
Attention is something I don’t really want. Neither of us want it, actually. Ever since Aggi started dating Spencer Garrison, skateboarding god and the star of every woman’s wet dreams, her popularity has skyrocketed, which is crazy since she was so popular to begin with.
She’s so hot now, it’s been bleeding over to me as well. Once the audiobook I voiced for Aggi was released, I started getting messages from authors wanting to work with me. I still get them weekly. I turn them all down, though. This isn’t a career for me. It’s just something fun I do that incorporates my love of theater with my love of talking. Plus, it helps Aggi out. Other than that, I have no interest. But will I ever tell Aggi that?
Nope. It’s way too fun to make her squirm.
“Don’t stress about that part, Ags. It’ll give me a chance to try out a few different accents on my people.”
She groans and murmurs, “This is going to end so badly.”
Oh, but it’s not. It’s going to end so, so well. I can practically hear it already.
Chapter 3
Donna
Portland has secured its place as one of my top five favorite cities in the country. The motto “Keep Portland Weird” only makes it more endearing. When I arrived yesterday, I took some time to explore the city. Wandering the streets, I managed a little shopping, a lot of people watching, and indulged in some of the best street food of my life. I’m not sure if it’s true or no
t, but I think food passed to you through a small window of a restaurant on wheels tastes better. Clara says it’s the brake dust and exhaust fumes that I’m tasting. She’s also a little dramatic.
Waking up this morning, I was excited for the day. Not only do I get to spend time meeting readers, I’ll have one of my cover models with me. He’s always a draw at these events, the women wanting photos with him while I sign their books. Unbeknownst to them, he’s quite shy and is a little embarrassed by the attention. But, he’s a professional and a good friend to indulge me when I need a little boost and someone to lean on.
One of my best author friends will also be here. On the surface, nobody would pair Adeline Snow and me together. When we stand side-by-side, the term “opposites attract” is never more evident. Adi is a petite brunette known for her retro style and clumsiness while I’m tall with too much blonde hair, tight skirts, and sky-high heels. She writes sports romances featuring good-guy heroes and spunky heroines, and I’m known for my arrogant bastards with dirty mouths and the women who fall to their knees before them.
Regardless, Adi is one of my closest friends, and I’m excited to hug her in person today instead of the virtual hugs and high fives I send her via text message. But, before I can do that, I need to drop off my table setup to my assistant and head to my appointment at the salon. When you have a mane of hair like I do, a good blowout before an event is a must.
Checking my purse for my phone, earbuds, and wallet, I slip my room key card into my back pocket before grabbing the handle of my cart of supplies and make my way to the signing room. As I exit the elevator, I see that although it’s four hours before the event, the line of readers has begun to form. The hum of excitement is already filling the hallway and I know it’s going to be a good day.
Walking into the large room, I smile and wave to friends also setting up their tables. I’m lucky that one of my reader group admins is local to the event and let me ship my books to her. She’s also going to be my assistant today and offered to do my complete setup while I go to my hair appointment.
“Hi, Jennifer.”
Popping up from behind the table, Jennifer smiles and stands. After a quick hug, she steps back and brushes the hair from her face, which is tinged pink with excitement. “I cannot believe Matthew Roberts is sitting with us today. I may die a thousand deaths.”
“Only a thousand?” I tease.
“Don’t tease me. Seriously, he’s so dreamy. I cannot stand it.”
Or maybe her cheeks are pink because she’s horny. I better keep my eye on this one. No one wants to look over and see their assistant humping the cover models.
“Jennifer, he’s just a guy. I mean, he’s super-hot and all that, but he’s just a guy.”
Waving her hand dismissively, she giggles and mumbles under her breath as she moves to take the handle of my cart. “Don’t worry about me, I’m sure I’ll become a mute as soon as he gets here. You have an appointment, don’t you?”
“I do. Are you sure you’re okay setting up? I feel bad.” I’m not used to someone doing this for me. I always do my own setup since I normally have a volunteer assistant and they aren’t used to my preferences.
“I have pictures from your last few signings saved on my phone. I’ll duplicate those and when you get here in a few hours, if you want to switch things we can. Don’t worry. Now go get yourself more beautiful, if that’s possible.”
Reluctantly, I leave Jennifer to it. She has no idea how difficult this is for me. I might have a little control problem when it comes to my business. Having everything as perfect as possible is very important to me, and while I don’t like to advertise my type A personality, it’s also not exactly a secret.
I’m in the salon only a few minutes later, and as I settle into the seat waiting for the stylist, I pull my wireless earbuds from my purse and slip them into my ears. Tapping the icon for my audio book app, I bring up my current listen. Okay, it’s technically the only book I’ve listened to for months. On a constant loop. What can I say? Hawk Weaver gives good audio.
As always, the story is beautifully written and each time I finish the book, I have a strong desire to be a better person. I want to find true love. Adeline writes some of the best sports romances out there and this one is no different. Except for the narrator.
Hawk Weaver has the kind of voice women fantasize whispering in their ear, speaking every dirty word imaginable, and making them climax without ever touching them. Hell, he could recite my grocery list, or the side effects of my antibiotics, and I’d probably need to change my panties. And, he’s unattainable. He’ll only work with Adi. Lucky bitch.
I mean that with the utmost love.
My new goal is to convince Adi to ask him to work with me. I’m already thinking of how my words will sound as he recites them. The thought alone has my heart racing.
The appointment takes longer than I expected but my hair is perfect. Lush and full of volume, there isn’t a flyaway to be found. Picture perfect. Rushing from the salon, I return to my room to finish getting ready. I’m a firm believer in less is more when it comes to my makeup routine. This is mostly because I equally believe in a bold lip. It’s one or the other for me. A simple cat eye and bold lip with my long hair perfectly styled have become my signature look. Well, along with a perfectly fitted dress.
Snatching a safety pin and ribbon from my travel sewing kit, I quickly attach it to the zipper of my dress before stepping into it. Shimmying the black frock up my body, I slip my arms through the sleeves and reach around to tug the ribbon up my back. Once the zipper is in place, I send a little thank you to online tutorials for getting yourself zipped into a dress when you’re alone.
Leaning across the bathroom counter, I apply my deep crimson lipstick and step back to take in my appearance. Even I have to admit, I look pretty damn good today. Confidence has never been lacking, and today is no different.
Before I leave the room, I toss my lipstick and key card in my change purse. Time to shine and be the kickass romance author I am.
“You’re sure you don’t mind me doing this?” Jennifer asks for the fourth time in less than ten minutes.
“Girl, go. Meet all the authors, buy all the books. Just get me one of those lip balms from Adi before she runs out.”
I’ve been trying to send Jennifer to get her own books signed by the other authors for the last thirty minutes. She’s been reluctant to leave because my line has been pretty consistent. Matthew assured her he was capable of taking pictures and counting change for a while, so she could fangirl. He was sweet but had no idea how much she was freaking out as he talked to her, his hand on her shoulder. I’m pretty sure I heard her swoon. No humping, though. I call that a win.
We’re in a bit of a lull in the signing right now so it’s the perfect time for her to go explore and be a book nerd. I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. I’ve barely had ten minutes to chat with my friends. Although, I did get my required hug from Adi.
“Now that it’s just us, tell me about what’s new with you.”
“You know, living the dream. Being a single woman living in the big city writing about all the dirty boys. It’s a tough life.”
“Uh huh. Don’t bullshit me, Donna.”
Matthew knows the struggles of dating as much as I do. Well, probably more considering how his life has changed in the last few years.
“Dating sucks. Well, the dating itself doesn’t suck. I enjoy going out, meeting new people. It’s the caliber of men I’ve been dating. Exclusivity my ass. I should probably freeze my account and wait for them to update their client list.”
“Or, you could try not dating assholes. Like that guy over there.” He points to Adi’s table where her friend Todd is sitting. “What’s wrong with him?”
Furrowing my brow, I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “Todd? You think I should date Todd?” I met Adi’s best friend briefly this morning. He was nice enough. Funny as all get out. But . . . no. “You realize he’
s wearing a shirt covered in heart shaped candies, right?”
“So?” Matthew says like he’d be caught dead in a shirt like that. “It is February. Maybe he just likes Valentine’s Day?”
“The candies say, ‘Eat Me’. It’s creepy.”
Matthew shrugs. “Maybe he’s just affectionate.”
I open my mouth to continue the debate, but we’re interrupted by a trio of women who giggle as they approach us. Matthew turns on the charm, his green eyes sparkling, dimple popped for the full panty-melting smile he is known for, and his ink peeking out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. The ladies stumble over their words as they thank me for writing such hot dirty talkers. When they ask Matthew to sign the chests of their “I like big books” shirts, I laugh as he pauses, making sure they really want his hands on their breasts. I love that he’s so respectful and equally shy.
“Anyway,” he says as the women walk away. I unscrew the cap of my water and lift the bottle to my mouth as he continues. “My point is not for you to date that particular Todd. But I think you need to change up your dating requirements.”
“Why should I? Is it too much to ask to find a hot thirty-something successful man with a strong work ethic who is also looking for companionship and a healthy sex life?”
“I don’t know that you can get all of that without him also being an asshole.”
“You’re not.”
“That’s because my focus isn’t on being successful. I’m just a dad who has to feed his kid. I can turn on the charm when I need to, it’s part of the job, but it doesn’t mean women are throwing themselves at me.”
Scoffing, I begin to tell him he could have any woman in this room if he wanted, but before I can, one of my favorite book bloggers walks up to the table. Carrie has been reviewing books for years, and she’s become not only one of my biggest supporters but a great friend. She doesn’t hold back when it comes to being honest about a book. I appreciate that about her. Plus, she’s sweet as can be.
“I wondered if you were going to make it to my table. I saw you across the room and was starting to feel left out,” I tease.
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