He simply had no passion for the tale—and therein lay the problem. But he was running out of time. He needed to start writing the actual story.
He looked away from Jordan’s piercing look. “I’ll email you the outline, and you can forward it to Elaine. That should allay their fears.”
“We didn’t even talk about your WIP. They’re more focused on that Newsline Tonight interview. The show agreed to promote it heavily.”
Adam’s pulse quickened. A sweat broke out on the back of his neck. “I already said no to the interview.”
“I know how you feel about all this, buddy, and I know they’ve always bent to your will, but they’re digging in more than usual. Readers want a relationship with their favorite authors these days, and publishers rely on authors to promote their own work. And with social media so prominent, that’s never been more true.”
He’d heard it all before. Still, like a nefarious weed, anxiety pushed to the surface. “I value my privacy, Jordan. You know this.”
“At what cost? At ticking off the house that’s made you a bestseller?”
Adam narrowed his eyes at Jordan. His friend knew about his insecurities stemming back to his father. Jordan had told him from the beginning he’d have his back. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore. Five minutes alone with the team and he’d already switched sides.
“They’re making plenty of money off me. If they don’t want to adhere to my directive, I’m sure I can find a publisher who will.”
“I don’t think it would be as bad you imagine. Most people have no idea what authors look like. It’s not as though your face is constantly on the screen like most celebrities. Only your biggest fans will know what you look like. You’ll still be able to go out in public. Wear a ball cap. Have a spare pair of glasses that look nothing like those. It doesn’t have to be that big a deal.”
“I thought you had my back.”
Jordan planted his elbows on his knees. “I’m always on your side, Adam. You’re my friend first. Always. I would never try and talk you into something I didn’t believe was in your best interest. I just think it’s time you worked through this unfounded fear that you’ll disappoint your readers.”
“This isn’t what I want.”
“Just think about it. Pray about it. I’m not asking for an answer tonight. I’m just asking you to be open to the idea. All right? Can you do that?”
He could barely even breathe past the tightness in his chest. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Jordan stood and clapped his shoulder. “Good man. All I’m asking. We can discuss it more over dinner. I’m going to change real quick and I’ll be ready to go.”
Jordan disappeared into the bathroom, and Adam’s mind spun. He couldn’t really do it, could he? Just the thought of it nearly brought on an anxiety attack. But maybe he had been making too much of it. Was it possible it wouldn’t be the big deal he’d feared? That he wouldn’t be the disappointment he was afraid he’d be?
Rosewood Press apparently didn’t think so, or they’d never push so hard for it. Was it possible this stigma was all in his head? He glanced in the mirror, seeing only the nerdy guy his father saw. The disappointing son.
He shook the thought away, his mind going another direction. In the morning Jordan would be taking Molly out again. The thought left him feeling sucker-punched.
He’d decided one thing. Regardless of her feelings for Jordan—or for him—he needed to tell her the truth about who he was. He felt like a lowlife for keeping it from her, especially with the way she’d opened up to him tonight. Maybe she’d be disappointed that he was Nathaniel Quinn. But he was starting to feel as though she might be even more disappointed that he’d deceived her.
A few minutes later Jordan emerged from the bathroom, dressed casually, on a cloud of Creed Aventus, his signature scent. He stopped at the hall mirror and finger-combed his thick dark hair.
Adam had to tell Molly who he was, and soon. Before she found out some other way.
“Don’t tell her who I am,” Adam blurted.
“What?”
“Molly. Don’t tell her who I am.”
Jordan spared him a glance. “Have I ever let it slip to anyone, ever?”
“I know but—I’m going to tell her myself. Soon. And I don’t want her finding out in the meantime, that’s all.”
Jordan’s hand fell to his side as he looked at Adam. “You’re going to tell her the truth.”
Just the thought of it had Adam’s heart racing and his palms damp. “Yes.”
Jordan studied him for a long moment. “Hmm.”
Adam stood, making sure he had his wallet and phone. “You ready? We can take my car.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever.”
Molly was nowhere to be seen as they exited the house, and even the front desk was vacant. He’d tell her tomorrow as soon as Jordan left. Maybe it wouldn’t be as awful as he thought.
thirty-four
Molly leaned back in the red vinyl booth as the server refilled her coffee mug. The Country Skillet was full this morning, the servers bustling around with trays and carafes of coffee. The sounds of chatter and clanking silverware and the savory scent of bacon and sweet maple syrup combined for sensory overload.
Molly and Jordan picked up right where they’d left off after his last visit. He shared amusing stories from the writers conference and caught her up on his family’s activities. Molly updated him on her life, skipping over the part about her mom’s birthday yesterday.
He was easy to talk to, easy on the eyes, and it would be oh, so easy to slide right into a relationship with him. But if she were completely honest with herself, there was no chemistry between them. And no amount of reminding herself he was Nathaniel Quinn changed that fact.
She was beginning to realize she’d liked the idea of Nathaniel Quinn much more than she liked the reality. It had been immature of her to assume she would swoon over the author simply because she swooned over his words.
And she was all right with that discovery. She would go on loving his stories—but she would never love the man. Not like that.
Jordan pushed back his plate. “You’re quiet over there. Too much to eat?”
Molly put her hand on her stomach. “Way too much. How could you let me order that? Friends don’t let friends order Big Mama’s Breakfast.”
“I helped you out with the bacon, didn’t I?”
Molly frowned at her empty plate. “I ate three pancakes, two eggs, four sausage patties, and a biscuit.”
Jordan’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t forget the gravy.”
Molly laughed. “You’re no help. I’ll need five hours of yoga to work this off.”
Jordan checked the time. “Well, I ate just as much. And I’d love to suggest we walk it off, but your shift is starting soon.”
“And you don’t want to miss your flight.” He’d already checked out of his room and put his luggage in the car.
After Jordan settled up with the server the two made their way to his rental. Molly’s nerves clattered. She needed to tell Jordan how she was feeling before he left. Maybe he felt the same way. As though they could be terrific friends but nothing more.
As he was pulling from the street slot his phone buzzed with a call. He checked the screen and winced.
“I’m so sorry, but my mom’s been trying to reach me all morning. Do you mind if I take it?”
She felt a guilty moment of reprieve. “Of course not. Go right ahead.”
“I’m going to put her on speaker. My phone’s not synced to the car.”
“No problem.”
He answered. “Hi, Mom. Sorry I missed your call. You’re still having computer issues?”
“This stupid thing.” The sound of keys being punched came over the line. Her voice was mild and warm despite her obvious frustration. “I’m writing a paper for that class and it’s frozen.”
“What do you mean by frozen?”
“I put the curser where it goes, and n
o matter what keys I punch nothing happens.”
“Did you try to close down the program?”
“No, I was afraid I’d lose my work.”
Molly stared out the window at the lake, shimmering under the late morning sun. It was a short drive back to the inn, and she had a feeling the call was going to take a while.
While Jordan directed his mother Molly worked out in her head what she’d say. There would be no way to avoid awkwardness, especially if he didn’t feel the same way.
Before she knew it Jordan was pulling into the slot in front of the inn. He was now trying to help his mom restart the computer.
He put the car in park and left the engine running. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he whispered to her. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She opened the car door.
“Who’s that?” his mother asked. “Are you with someone? I thought I heard a woman’s voice.”
“Yes, Mother.” He rolled his eyes at Molly. “Is your computer off yet?”
Molly closed the car door behind her and checked her watch as she made her way up the walk. She had twenty minutes before she had to cover the front desk, and he’d have to leave shortly after that. When Jordan was finished with the call she’d invite him to sit on the front porch where they could talk in private.
She winced, dreading the conversation. It wasn’t as though they were serious. They’d just been talking. Still, she’d only ever “broken up” with Dominic, and righteous indignation had made that task supremely easy.
Jordan was a nice guy. But he also seemed to have a healthy self-esteem. How could he not, bestselling author like him? She didn’t expect him to be crushed or anything.
It was hot enough that she bypassed the porch swing in favor of air conditioning. When she entered the building Levi was at the front desk on a phone call. He nodded in greeting.
She probably shouldn’t go up to her room just yet. A spin around the dining room showed it to be cleaned up and empty. The kitchen was vacant, Miss Della already gone for the day. She bagged a few leftover muffins—blueberry strudel—for Jordan to take with him and set the bag on the flower stand. A peace offering. Levi was still on the phone.
Hearing the sound of typing coming from down the hall, she wandered back to the library. A smile lifted her lips as she thought about Adam. About the way he’d held her last night and the way he’d made her feel. As though she were coming home.
She’d lost her sense of home since her parents had passed, she realized. She had the inn, of course. But that was only temporary. Adam had felt like her forever home—and that was a scary concept. No wonder the kiss had made her anxious. But she could work through that, couldn’t she? Clearly her heart was ready to move forward.
She wondered if Adam felt the same about her. He had his work, but he traveled a lot and it didn’t sound as if his family had felt much like home, at least where his dad was concerned. Could she be home for him too?
Mia tesoro. Her smile widened at the memory of the endearment and the smoky tone of his voice when he’d said it.
She walked around the corner and spotted him at the desk. He’d paused in writing and was staring out at the lake, chin propped on his hand. His hair was a little ruffled as though he might’ve just run his fingers through it.
“Hi there,” she said.
He whipped around. Something dark lingered in his expression though his lips lifted in a wan smile. “Oh, hello. You’re back. Where’s Jordan?” He faced his laptop again, pushing the lid shut.
“He’s still in the car. He’s on a call. You all right?”
“Sure. Of course. I’m just trying to get some work done.”
Was she bothering him? He seemed a little guarded, but could she blame him? He was probably confused. They’d shared a moment last night, and now she’d just returned from a date with his best friend. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t interested in Jordan, but it didn’t seem right to tell him first.
She sat on the little bench next to the desk and looked at him.
He was stuffing everything into folders and back into his laptop case. She longed for the Adam from last night instead of this distracted, distant version sitting next to her.
“Adam . . . I . . . Thank you again for last night. I was so upset, and talking to you really helped.”
He spared her a glance. “No problem. Happy to be of help.”
“You were more than that. You were—” She swallowed against the emotion rising in her throat. “You were perfect.”
He finally met her eyes. Really looked at her. There was something lurking in those blue depths. Something sad and vulnerable. “I’m glad, Molly. You’re too hard on yourself. I hope you can give yourself a little grace. I think your parents would want that for you.”
“Yeah . . . I’m going to work on that.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Did you have a good breakfast?”
She smiled, thinking about her conversations with Jordan. “Um, yeah. I ate way too much though. I’m skipping lunch and maybe dinner too.” Her chuckle sounded forced.
She could see his eyes now. They were piercing in their intensity. Serious.
“Perché non vedi la verità?” His voice was low and throaty.
Why can’t you see the truth?
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Lo sono l’autore, non lui.”
I am the author, not him.
Her breath tumbled out. Her lungs forgot how to refill. I am the author. Her eyes held his as she tried to work that out in her head to be something other than what it seemed to mean. But there was no other way he could’ve meant it.
Adam was the author. Adam was Nathaniel Quinn.
“What?” Her single word packed a lot of emotion.
Adam blinked once. Sat back in the chair. The intensity in his expression shifted to confusion. “What?”
Her mind spun. The memory of that day she’d been on the balcony and overheard Jordan and Adam talking. The memory of her subsequent conversation with Adam. She’d only assumed Jordan was Nathaniel Quinn. And Adam had let her believe. For how many weeks—five? Six?
“You know Italian,” he said flatly.
She gave him a flinty look, her breath resuming, quick and shallow. “You’ve been lying to me.”
She couldn’t believe this. He was no better than Dominic. Something dark and heavy rose up from deep inside her. Heat suffused her face, making her ears go hot.
He held up his hands, palms out. “I was going to tell you.”
The scornful laugh sounded foreign. “Sure you were.”
“I was, Molly. I swear. Today, right after Jordan left. I was about to tell you last night.”
“Why, Adam? Why did you lie to me? We sat right down there on the pier and talked about what I’d overheard.” She flung her hand toward the lake. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth right then? Why can’t anyone just tell the freaking truth?”
She sprang from the bench and out the door, her heart feeling as if it might explode from her chest. She barely registered Levi at the front desk as she zipped past and out the front door. She was about to bound down the porch steps when Adam gripped her elbow from behind.
“Wait, Molly. Please.”
She jerked her arm away as her eyes fell on Jordan, still sitting in the car.
“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I’m really sorry.”
She whipped around, her eyes locking on his. She saw something desperate and pleading in their depths. His neck was splotchy pink, and his shoulders heaved with shallow breaths.
Just like that all the anger seemed to drain out of her, leaving her hollow inside. Empty and achy. Hurting.
She wanted the anger back.
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was wobbly, and she seemed to be crying, darn it. “I feel like such a fool.”
“You’re not a fool. This is my fault, not yours.”
She gave her head a shake, trying to understand. “Is this some k
ind of game? Are you and Jordan just . . . toying me with me or something?”
“No. No, Molly, that isn’t it at all. I would never do that to you. Please believe me.”
“How can I believe anything you say now? You’ve been lying to me for weeks, both of you.”
He dug his hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. A shadow flickered in his jaw. “No, it’s all my fault. I didn’t want anyone to know the truth.”
“Even me? As close as we’ve become? Don’t you trust me? I trusted you. I trusted you last night when I spilled my guts about something very private.”
He winced. “I know you did and I—”
Footsteps fell on the steps behind her. “Everything all right?” Jordan’s voice was tentative.
“Can you give us a minute, please?” Adam said.
Something rose, hot and quick, inside her. Molly whirled around.
Jordan’s eyes widened. His lips parted.
“No,” Molly said. “No, I think he should stay for this since he was obviously in on the little joke.”
Jordan’s cautious gaze toggled between them. “What’s going on?”
“She knows who I am.”
“Oh . . . right.”
Molly thought back to everything Jordan had said on their dates. Was any of it real? The conference stories . . . his occupation . . .
“For crying out loud,” she mumbled. “You really are an agent.”
“Um . . . yeah.”
And here she’d thought he was just spinning things to cover his real job. She’d been more or less all right with that since they didn’t yet know each other well.
“Jordan didn’t know you thought he was Nathaniel Quinn,” Adam said.
“She what?” Jordan asked.
“She overheard us talking out back last time you were here. She assumed you were the author.”
Molly gave Adam a flinty look. “And you let me believe it.”
“Oh,” Jordan said. “I see.”
Molly’s mind spun quickly, trying to separate truth from fiction. Just as she’d done when she’d caught Dominic in his web of lies.
How had she let this happen to her, not once but twice? What was wrong with her? She cupped her forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”
Lake Season Page 20
