Well, she’d own it. “Okay, I can wait to hear what your agent says. But I want you to know that I started reading your books when you had three or four out. I’ve always been fascinated with the medical field. Your books have just the right amount of suspense and medical stuff combined. I also like that your books have all been stand-alone reads so far even though you’ve created your own trope of main characters being injured athletes.”
He lifted his hand from her arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “There are pros and cons to carving out a niche in a genre,” he said. “I feel pigeon-holed sometimes. Yet when I get into the characters I’m writing about, I always find new angles. So I’m not bored yet.” He gave her a lazy smile.
Okay, so Livvy was getting used to the beard. That didn’t mean she found it attractive, but like Felicity had pointed out, even a beard couldn’t take away from the handsomeness that was Mason Rowe. Had he become more handsome after Livvy had found out that he was a bestselling thriller writer?
She swallowed. “Well, I for one love your books. Do you always write at libraries?”
“This is my first,” he said with a shrug. “But it seems to be working. I’ve written more in the past few days than I have in an entire year.”
“Oh, that’s great news, right?” She straightened. Maybe when Mason Rowe left Pine Valley, she’d put a little plaque on this table declaring that he’d written his book here. “What’s this book about?”
He shifted. “So, here’s the thing,” he said in low tone. “I don’t discuss my works in progress when I’m drafting, not even with my agent.”
This surprised Livvy. “Never?”
“Never.”
“Is it bad karma or something?” she asked. “Like how Jackson had superstitious habits in Slice?”
His gaze looked amused. “All baseball players have those types of superstitions.”
“And you were a basketball player in college, right?”
“Right.”
Again she had the feeling he was laughing at her. She was a librarian, and she did have a good memory, and she did read a lot of books. Not only his. She wouldn’t admit that she’d read most of his books twice. And it didn’t seem like he was going to elaborate on his basketball-playing years. She should make herself scarce, let him get back to whatever top-secret manuscript he was writing.
She wanted to ask him if he always drafted by hand, but she’d probably worn out her welcome. Sliding back her chair, she rose. “Thanks for talking to me, and thanks for everything else too. Let me know what your agent says, and if you can’t do an event, no worries.”
His gaze had followed her as she stood. “I’ll let you know,” he said.
“Oh, and I’ll go grab your coat and rice bag right now,” she said. “I should have brought them over in the first place.”
The amused gleam in his eyes was back, which only made her feel foolish. She hurried off, hoping that he wasn’t watching her. She wouldn’t be surprised if she tripped. Why was she feeling so antsy and nervous around him? Oh yeah. He was a major bestselling author, and he was writing his next book in her library!
Breathe, Livvy. She moved behind the reference desk, took a guzzle from her still-cold water bottle, then picked up the coat and rice bag she’d brought with her. Felicity would get a kick out of the conversation Livvy had just had with Mason Rowe. But Livvy wouldn’t be telling her friend everything, not how he’d touched her arm (for kind of a long time) or how she’d noticed his scent—clean soap and something else more musky and masculine.
She should be thinking of how Slade smelled. He always smelled clean too—antiseptic clean, that was, with maybe a dash of spicy cologne on their dates. As she returned to Mason’s designated table, Livvy thought of how much she loved Slade’s easy smile and how he cared so much for his patients—as individuals, not as clients. If she hadn’t cramped up on their hike yesterday, and if Mason Rowe hadn’t gotten in the middle of everything, Slade probably would have kissed her again. And their second kiss would be longer and more fulfilling.
It was with this happy and hopeful thought that she swept quietly past Mason Rowe and deposited his down coat and rice bag without a sound in the chair next to him, so that she didn’t disturb his writing. Although he wasn’t exactly writing. He was mostly staring at a blank page, fiddling with the pen in his hand.
Still, he was probably right in the middle of a scene in his head.
She moved away, not wanting to break his concentration, when he suddenly said, “It’s good to see you appropriately dressed for the library.”
She stopped and turned. He was leaning back in his chair, notebook and pen still in his hands, but his eyes were no longer on the blank page. Instead, he was looking at her... quite intently, in fact. Was he checking her out?
She wasn’t dressed to impress really. Well, she had known there was a good chance of seeing one of her favorite thriller writers today. So she’d worn her jeans that were dark and newer, which made them more dressy in her opinion, and she’d chosen the pale-green sweater and head scarf that people always complimented her on. “I have no trouble dressing for indoor activities.”
Mason Rowe smiled at her.
Really smiled.
Like heart-stopping.
Before Livvy could gather her wits and wonder what in the world her heart was thinking, Mason pushed back his chair and stood.
“You’re done?” she quipped, then regretted her question. It was none of her business.
“Not sure. All I know is that I’m too hungry to focus.” He glanced at the library clock. “I’ve been here since opening.”
It was after 2:00 p.m. now. “We have a stash of granola bars.” What was she thinking? “I mean, you probably need more sustenance than that, being so tall and—” Shut up now, Livvy.
Mason chuckled and picked up his notepad and pen. Then he was walking toward her... well, he would have to pass her to get to the library exit.
“Thanks,” he said, pausing by her. “That’s a nice offer, but I think I’ll pass on the granola bars.”
Livvy looked up at him because he was standing fairly close. “Okay.”
His blue eyes connected with hers. “You’re an interesting woman, Livvy Harmon. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She could only nod and watch him continue on his way to the library exit. He’d been... complimentary? Nice? Flirty? Livvy grasped the top of a nearby chair, if only to keep herself grounded and her thoughts realistic. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, and there’d been no mention of a wife or kids in his website bio, but that didn’t mean much. He might just be a private person. He didn’t even share his book’s plot with his agent when he was writing.
You’re an interesting woman, Livvy Harmon, he’d said. Who said that in real life? Apparently Mason Rowe did, but his life wasn’t typical, she guessed. What would it be like to make up stories for a living, then have millions of people buy them? And what had he meant by “interesting”—was that good interesting or weird interesting?
Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. So did that mean he was coming to the library again in the morning? Livvy’s schedule was usually the later one, from noon to close, and Mallory took the mornings. What if he was gone before Livvy arrived at work?
Her cell phone buzzed as she walked back to the reference desk. She pulled it from her pocket, half expecting the text to be from Felicity, or maybe Mallory. They were going to get together and make pizza from scratch tonight. Her steps slowed when she saw that Slade had texted her: Hey, Liv. Are you free tonight? My last appointment should be over by 5:30 and I thought I could make up that cancelled dinner date to you.
Livvy stared at the words for a full minute before she could process them. Then, because it would be at least forty-five minutes before the school kids started to show up at the library, she called Felicity, hoping her friend could answer.
“Did he text you?” Felicity said as soon as she picked up her phone.
“How did you kno
w?” Livvy asked.
“You never call me during work hours,” Felicity said with a laugh. “So I figured if you were calling instead of texting, then Slade had done something earth-shattering.”
Livvy sat on the chair behind the reference desk. “He wants to take me out to dinner. Tonight.”
“Wow.”
“I know, wow.”
“I guess you’ll be missing pizza night, but I’m sure you’d rather eat gourmet Italian with Slade,” Felicity said.
For the first time in, well, ever, she regretted that Slade had made time for her. She’d been looking forward to hanging out with her friends, laughing, and eating until they were stuffed. Livvy shook those thoughts away. Of course she wanted to go out with Slade.
“You and Mallory will have to survive without me,” Livvy said in a bright tone.
Felicity laughed. “Admit it, you’re already thinking of your next kiss with Slade.”
No. She wasn’t. She was wondering if Slade really wanted to make up the cancelled date, or if he was just annoyed with the attention she’d gotten from Mason Rowe. As usual, Felicity seemed to read her mind.
“Slade likes you, Livvy,” she said. “Mr. Hot Thriller Writer or not, Slade has been dating you for months. If it takes another man’s attention to get Slade to step up his game, then it’s a win-win for both of you.”
Livvy sighed. “You’re right, and you’re also creepily observant.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Felicity said, a smile sounding in her voice. “By the way, I downloaded Cut to my Kindle and read a few chapters this morning.”
“What did you think?” Livvy asked.
“Uh, a little too dark for me,” she said.
“You have to keep reading,” Livvy said. “You won’t be able to put it down once you get to chapter five.”
“I think I’ll stick with my fantasy novels and romances,” Felicity said. “But I put in an order for all of his books for the bookshop. Five titles of each release. If you think he might agree to do a book signing, I can get more in.”
Livvy explained how she’d already extended the invitation, albeit in a more expansive way, and how he had said he was under a strict deadline.
Felicity was quiet for a moment after Livvy stopped talking. So quiet that Livvy checked her connection.
“Did a customer come in?” Livvy pressed.
“I was just thinking,” Felicity said. “Maybe we should invite Mason to pizza night tonight. I mean, he probably needs to eat sometime, and it would be good for him to get to know the citizens of Pine Valley.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Livvy said.
“Ha!” Felicity scoffed. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Livvy asked.
“Never mind,” Felicity said, triumph in her voice. “I’d better get back to work. Call me after your date with Slade—I want a full report.”
Felicity hung up, and Livvy was left wondering why it had made her feel jealous when Felicity suggested inviting Mason to pizza night.
Mason was starting to hate snow.
If only he’d hit his deadline when he was supposed to, he wouldn’t be in Pine Valley, shoveling another six inches of snow from a rented cabin’s driveway. Apparently there was a snow removal service for the cabins, but it didn’t come until after Mason wanted to leave for the day.
So Mason pulled on his boots, gloves, and hat and trudged outside. He supposed the falling snow was picturesque, but there was definitely truth in how too much of a good thing sort of spoiled itself.
Mason wasn’t asking for much, and over the past couple of weeks, his routine had been simple.
Wake early, go to the Pine Valley Recreation Center. Run the track, lift weights, shower, change, eat breakfast at the Main Street Café, then he’d write at the library until he was hungry for lunch. He was writing slower than he ever had in his career, but at least he was writing, averaging ten to fifteen pages a day. And Jolene was more than pleased with his progress.
Yesterday he’d reached page 120, and the first turn, or climax, was about to occur. Mason decided if he could get his usual fifteen pages written today, he’d do something to celebrate. Maybe go see a movie? He could watch movies as long as they weren’t in the same genre he was writing. He didn’t want to get ideas that would influence his current work in progress.
Driveway and walkway finished, Mason peeled off his gloves and hat in the house, changed his boots, then grabbed his gym bag. He climbed into his Jeep, shivering until the interior warmed up. He took the canyon road slowly. Even though the snowplows had made at least one pass this morning, the snow was coming down pretty good now.
By the time he pulled up to the rec center, he couldn’t even see the lines to park. Whoever had plowed the parking lot would have to make a return visit soon. Making his best estimate, he pulled into a space, then climbed out. The snow seemed to have kept quite a few people away, since the parking lot was about half its usual fullness.
He hurried inside and went straight to the track, which was a floor above the basketball gym. He wasn’t even tempted to join in any of the pickup games. His father had been his high school basketball coach, and he’d spent years of his life trying to make the old man happy. His father had since passed away now, but the tightening of Mason’s gut still happened whenever he was around the game.
Which was ironic, he knew, because he continued to write medical thrillers with athletes as central characters.
He ran for about an hour, then hit the weight room. It seemed things had picked up at the gym, and more than half the machines were being used. While he waited his turn for one of the machines, a tall man with blond hair struck up a conversation.
“I’ve seen you here a few times,” the man said. “Are you new to Pine Valley or on a long vacation?”
“I’m renting a cabin at the resort,” Mason said. “Working on a deadline.”
At the man’s interested expression, Mason added, “I’m a writer.”
“Oh? Who do you work for?” the man continued.
“Myself. I write novels.” Mason knew from experience that he’d get one of two reactions. The person would be impressed and ask a ton of questions. Or the person would politely say, “How interesting. I guess you have the easy job, chasing a muse all day.” Or something like that.
But this man did neither. “You must be Mason Rowe, then. I heard you were in town. I should have put two and two together.”
Who was talking about him? Mason wondered. His only personal interaction had been with the town librarian, but maybe that had been enough. Was she telling other people? Or maybe she was dating this guy too?
“I’m Dawson Harris,” the man said, sticking out his hand.
“Well, apparently you know who I am.” Mason shook his hand, keeping it brief, because they were in a gym. Sweating. Before he could ask Dawson Harris how he’d heard of him, Dawson spoke.
“If you need a lawyer again, then I’m your guy.” Dawson leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Read about that nasty lawsuit. If I’d been on the case, it wouldn’t have gone past the discovery stage.”
Mason couldn’t have been more surprised that this man knew about the lawsuit, and that he’d have the nerve to criticize the case. Mason moved back a few inches, marking his distance. “Who told you I was in Pine Valley?”
Dawson frowned, then his face relaxed. “Oh, it was Slade. I ran into him the other day—he’s Dr. McKinney now—and he asked me if I knew anything about your legal case. I didn’t, but I looked it up on the spot. Slade informed me that you were in town and said you’d helped out his girlfriend at the ski resort or something.”
Mason could only reply, “Yes.”
“I thought it was strange that he was so interested in some visitor to Pine Valley,” Dawson said. “Now that I see you, I can understand his concern.”
Mason blinked. “Concern?”
“Slade said his girlfriend is pretty much obsessed with you.” He shrugged. “No
t in the stalker way—of course—but she’s always talking about your books, and how she can’t believe you’re writing your next book in her library. I guess it’s making Slade concerned.”
Mason had to clench his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open in astonishment. He’d talked to Livvy almost every day, but their conversations were brief, and she kept to her end of the library, and he kept to his. But... if Mason were to guess, Slade was the dramatic type. He seemed to enjoy extremes. Extreme hiking, ignoring his girlfriend to the extreme, and now asking other people in Pine Valley if they knew Mason.
Unbelievable. “How is Livvy’s interest in my work a concern to the doctor, or to you, for that matter?”
Dawson didn’t seem fazed by the question at all. In fact, he laughed. “Let’s just say that if you were about thirty years older and missing a couple of teeth, Slade would be sleeping better at night. As it is, Slade would prefer that you hold your writing sessions someplace other than the library. But if you ask me, stay right where you are. Slade needs a little competition. Livvy is way too beautiful and sassy to be strung along month after month.”
Mason really didn’t like Slade McKinney. Not when he’d first met him, and not now. According to this Dawson character, Livvy was being strung along. What exactly did that mean? Mason scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Next time you see the doc, tell him I’m happy to autograph a book for him any time. His girlfriend knows where to find me.” Mason turned and walked to the next open machine on the other side of the room.
Dawson didn’t follow him, and when Mason next looked up, the man had left the room.
Good. Mason didn’t need any small-town lawyer, or doctor, telling him what he could and couldn’t do.
Mason probably lifted a little longer than usual, and more weight than typical, which would make him plenty sore by the end of the day. But it felt good to work off the annoyance that was Dawson Harris—or more accurately, Slade McKinney. Doctor or not, the guy needed a wake-up call. Because no woman should ever be strung along, and Mason was determined to figure out what Dawson had meant.
Until We Kissed (Pine Valley Book 6) Page 5