by Kennedy Fox
“Thank you again so much!” She squeezes us one more time before walking away with her friend.
“Looks like you might have a career in modeling after all,” I tease, both of us still posing although no one is taking our photo.
“Nah, I doubt there’d be enough room for me with your ego taking up all the space.”
“Oh, I forgot you’re already a comedian.”
“It’s not a joke if it’s true,” she taunts with a devilish smile, breaking apart and walking away, leaving me to wonder if she felt that same spark as I did or if it’s completely one-sided.
...only one way to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
OLIVIA
Maverick. Maverick. Yesssss.
My eyes shoot open, and I feel the embarrassment the second I hear a knock on the door.
This time I was fantasizing about him while sliding my fingers under my panties.
Ugh, God. What am I even thinking?
“Olivia!” Rachel’s voice on the other side of the door has me rushing to answer it.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I whip it open.
Without a word, she shoves Angel into my arms and drops a bag at my feet.
“She needs to be fed and then walked exactly twenty minutes later. She likes to be brushed after her walk and then she takes her morning nap. Her food and things are in her duffle. Then I need my laundry done and ironed.”
I swallow, scrambling to hold Angel without purposely dropping her. “Of course,” I tell her.
“I’d also like a spa appointment for a massage and facial with the bonus package.”
“Right, I’m on it. I’ll call right now.”
“Great.” She starts to walk away then stops herself. “Oh and Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten the rules regarding Maverick. I know you’re working closely together, but the last thing I need is a breakup or scandal to ruin my business partnerships.”
“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I remind her.
She purses her lips, tilts her head down, then scans her eyes up and down my body. “Good to hear. Text me when my appointment is set.”
As soon as she walks away, I grab the bag and take Angel inside. I look at myself in the mirror and realize what she was looking at. I wore my silky shorts and tank top pajama set to bed last night, and now she probably thinks I have Maverick stashed away in my room somewhere. Considering she gave us an odd look when we posed for pictures yesterday, I can’t blame her for reiterating herself, but honestly, that was just to make a reader happy.
When Rachel informed me last night that she’d need me to do some administrative errands today, I wasn’t aware that was code for work bitch, although I really shouldn’t have expected anything less. There’s a packed scheduled tomorrow with the signing, but today there weren’t any events. I was hoping to relax a bit and catch up on my work, but I should’ve known better.
When I finally have a second to breathe, I check my phone and all of Rachel’s social media sites and emails. I follow a variety of hashtags on Instagram, so I don’t miss anything that Rachel’s books are tagged in, and just as I’m scrolling through them, I’m stopped by a picture of Maverick and me from the bookstore signing. My eyes linger over Maverick as his arm wraps around my waist and he holds me close to his side. I scroll to the right for a second picture, which is almost the same, except it’s a shot of Maverick looking at me instead of the camera. Then I look down at the caption.
The real-life Ian and Julia! SQUEE! They are adorbs, for real! I love them so hard! #ShouldBeARealCouple #HowCuteAreThey #IShipThem #SwoonyCouples #RelationshipGoals #CoupleGoals #BestLookingCoupleEver
My eyes widen as I read the hashtags, and then I click on the comments and start reading. There are dozens of them. The majority along the lines of Ahhh OMG! I ship them so hard! If they aren’t dating in real life, I’ll never believe in love again! They are the perfect Ian & Julia!
I make myself stop reading them after a few minutes because they’re making my head spin. Maverick and I are so different. I never imagined we’d look like the perfect couple, but staring at our picture has me reconsidering. Julia has the same hair color as me, and she’s described as petite, average height, with green eyes. I never realized it before now that I look like her.
I take a screenshot of the pictures before I close out of the app and get back to work. Angel needs to go out again, and if I don’t finish Rachel’s laundry, she’ll have an aneurysm.
Four hours later, I finally complete everything on Rachel’s list. I’m exhausted and hungry, and on top of it all, I haven’t talked to Maverick all day and have this weird desire to know what he’s up to. Today was his day off, so he probably worked out and then ravished all the local single ladies.
Rachel has dinner plans, so I put Angel back in her suite after taking her out again. This dog is higher maintenance than Rachel sometimes.
Once I’m back in my room, I lounge around for an hour, then I pace the small space between the door and the desk trying to decide if I should reach out to Maverick or not. I skipped lunch and am now starving for dinner. Should I ask if he wants to grab a bite with me? Or casually ask if he’s eaten yet? Maybe just mention I’m going to go find something?
Ugh, why am I overthinking this? I’m an idiot.
I’ll just go down to the bar and order something to eat from there and head in to get a good night’s sleep. Lord knows I’ll be up early tomorrow, running around like a chicken with my head cut off for Rachel again.
Deciding to go with that plan, I grab my things and take the elevator down to the lobby. The hotel bar is just off to the side, and it actually looks cozy with a fireplace in the middle and couches surrounding it. I find a stool and wait for a server.
Once I place my dinner and drink order, I settle in and look around. It’s a nice hotel, and it’s actually quite large and busy with people walking around. Just when I’m about to dig my phone out of my purse, I glance near the fireplace and do a double take when I notice Maverick sitting in one of the chairs.
What is he doing? I look around the bodies standing between us and...is he reading a book? What the hell?
Who reads a book in a bar?
Why the hell is Maverick reading a book?
I don’t know why this amuses me so much, but I’m also impressed. Though I’m not going to let him know that. He could be using his time off to go drinking, clubbing, or worse—hooking up with single random locals.
Since I have to wait for my food anyway, I figure I might as well go say hello to him. I walk over and stand in front of him.
Maverick has one ankle propped on his knee, and he’s leaning back slightly against a pillow, looking so relaxed, settled, and calm.
“You know you’re blocking the only good light I had,” he mutters without looking at me.
I hold back a laugh. “What are you doing?” I ask with my hands on my hips.
He finally looks up. “I was trying to read. Is that okay?”
“I’m just surprised.” I shrug.
“That I’m reading a book?” He furrows his brows.
“That you can read,” I tease, nudging his knee with mine.
“I’m not all muscles and good cheekbones, you know. I won the fifth-grade read-a-thon challenge and have a personalized blue ribbon to prove it,” he replies with a smug attitude, and it causes me to chuckle.
“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, laughing. “So what are you reading?”
“Book three in the Mistborn series,” he responds, flipping the book over and showing me the cover. “Always been a fan of the series and thought I’d do a reread.”
I take the chair next to him and grab the thick paperback out of his hand. Turning it over, I skim over the synopsis and smile. “Sounds interesting. I’ll have to add it to my TBR.”
“Your what?” he asks when I hand the book back to him.
�
��My TBR,” I repeat with a laugh. “My to-be-read list. It’s about a mile long.”
“Oh, didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“Are you kidding? They have a whole website dedicated to adding books to your TBR and reviewing them online. It’s where an author’s hopes and dreams go to die, but it’s popular among readers.”
“That sounds brutal,” Maverick replies, chuckling.
“Yeah, it can be. I’ve had to check all of Rachel’s early reviews for her before release because she refuses to go there herself. That way I can give her the sugary version and skip over the harsh shit.”
“People really say that bad of things on there about her books?” He looks at me as if he can’t comprehend anyone saying a rude thing about Rachel’s stories.
“Oh my God! You wouldn’t believe the reviews I’ve read over there. Not just for her books either. Reading is all subjective, and readers will experience the same book differently. There is no way to make them all happy, which sometimes means the hardcore fans will get really upset when a book in her series doesn’t go the way they wanted. Rachel tells the story that needs to be told within her heart, and that doesn’t always mean it’s the way her readers expect.”
“Wow...no wonder she doesn’t go on there then.”
“It’s for the best. She’s told me from the start that reviews are for readers—not for authors—so she understands that not all her readers will like every book she writes. She likes knowing what the early reviewers say, and then after that, she lets it go and moves on to writing the next. At that point, what’s done is done, and it’s not like she’s going to go back and rewrite the book.”
“Guess I could understand some of her hostility then,” Maverick teases. “Wow, I had no idea there was so much involved in the publishing world. Kinda blows my mind.”
“When I first started working in this field, I thought I was an expert in social media marketing and what it took to promote a book, but I had a rude awakening. It’s so much more than just writing a book and trying to get the word out into the world. It’s connecting with readers and bloggers and networking with other authors. It’s finding a balance between life and work and managing deadlines. It’s timing and luck and figuring out when to actually start promoting a book and when to post about it and what to post. Rachel gets emails weekly asking for interviews, Q&As, character interviews...you name it, she’s done it. On top of all that, she plots a book for a week before she even starts writing it. She writes out their character profiles, outlines each chapter, lists all the secondary characters, prints out images of the setting, and sometimes makes Pinterest boards for inspiration. It’s this whole week where she’s taping pieces of paper all around her office, dozens of Post-it Notes everywhere, and she’s muttering to herself for hours. By the time she actually sits down to write the first chapter, she can visually see the entire thing in her mind and just writes like crazy. It’s actually a really neat process to watch—ya know when I’m not being yelled at for more coffee.” I smile, chuckling. “It actually gives me a new appreciation for all she does to give her readers the best story she can. I know I complain about her a lot, but she’s truly a genius in her craft.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a hardcore fangirl.” Maverick’s genuine smile has me smiling right back. He reaches over and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. My breath hitches as his fingers linger along my jawline before his hand drops back to his lap. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you kind of like your boss.”
I snort, blushing. “Thanks. I’d like to keep that under wraps.”
The bartender shouts at me that my food is ready, and it brings me out of my Maverick-induced haze. I wave a hand at him so he knows I heard him.
“Would you want to come eat with me? You probably ate already, but—”
“I’d love to,” he interrupts. “Let’s go.”
He follows me to the bar and places his order with a beer. We drink and chat without skipping a beat. It’s not forced or awkward. Maverick continues to surprise me during this trip, and I actually find myself enjoying his company tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
MAVERICK
This morning, I woke up early and had a cup of coffee at the hotel cafe downstairs. I sit smiling, thinking about last night. Olivia is something else. Not only is she beautiful, sassy, and smart, but she’s sincere and funny too. Before this road trip, I never imagined myself settling down with anyone, but now I find myself falling for a woman who is my exact opposite. To say she’s the whole package is an understatement. My heart knows, and while I’m trying to ignore it, eventually I won’t be able to.
After I finish my cup of coffee, I get a bagel to go, then head upstairs and get dressed. Before I get a reminder text, I head out the door, not wanting to be late. I’m actually getting the hang of this signing thing. Of course, each venue is different, but the situations are the same.
Before the signing, we had an early lunch event with Rachel’s readers. As I sat next to Rachel and listened to her answer the same questions she’d been asked a hundred times already, I found myself glancing at Olivia who was too busy to eat. If one weren’t paying any attention, it’d be easy to gloss over her because she tries so hard to blend in with the background.
In this room, Olivia is the real MVP for running Rachel’s life so flawlessly. What’s disheartening is Rachel doesn’t seem to appreciate anything Olivia does for her—only expects it all. Just because she’s paying Olivia doesn’t mean she has to continue to treat her like trash, regardless of her author social status. It’s actually starting to irk me, but I know I’m walking on thin ice, so I find myself biting my tongue.
After the brunch, Olivia gives me a detailed rundown of what the rest of the day will be like. While I found it annoying in the beginning, it’s actually helpful to know what to expect, though I still give her shit for it. She secretly likes it, though, whether she’ll admit it or not.
When the main doors open, readers flood in. The line is so long, I don’t see the tail of it, just the beginning. Picture after picture and the day seems to pass by in a blur. I’ve talked to so many people today that I don’t remember many of the conversations.
Randomly, I catch sight of Olivia running around for Rachel, helping readers, and the smile on her face never fades. Occasionally, our eyes meet, and it causes my heart to lurch forward, which is confusing and exhilarating at the same time. While busting her ass, she moves around the room flawlessly, as if it’s her own personal stage, following cues and giving rehearsed lines. Olivia deserves a fucking Emmy for her performance today.
Once the signing is officially over, a group of older women basically hold me hostage. They give me a rundown of the entire plot of Rachel’s series and why they love Ian so much. I smile and nod and watch Olivia over their shoulders, hoping she’ll save me, but she doesn’t. While I enjoy chatting about Rachel’s characters, I honestly have no clue what the hell they’re referring to nine times out of ten, though I’m beginning to catch on now.
While I listen to them talk and try to make eye contact, I notice Rachel is reprimanding Olivia, who continues to act as if it doesn’t bother her as she cleans off the table. Rachel eventually storms away, and Olivia rolls her eyes, which makes me chuckle. The ladies who I’m chatting with eventually ask for a photo and then offer to hook me up with their granddaughters. Laughter erupts from my core as I politely tell them no thanks.
“So are you in a serious relationship then?” one of them asks me. She’s wearing a shirt that says, COUGAR. The ridiculousness of it actually makes me smile as the light reflects and shines off it. I’ve learned there are zero boundaries at these events. Zero. And if you have any, every single one of them will be demolished, then backed over a few times.
“Not at the moment,” I say.
“But there’s a special lady,” the other adds with a cheeky grin. “I can tell. There’s a sparkle in your eye.”
I pla
yfully shake my head.
“There’s no reason to be shy about it. But just know, honey, if it doesn’t work out, my Carley would be perfect for you.” She leans in a gives me a hug. “Or maybe I would.”
“Oh watch out!” I playfully tell her as she blows me kisses. Then, just like that, she takes a handful of my ass in her hand before they walk away. In any other industry, that’d be considered extremely inappropriate. At these events, though, I’ve learned it’s just another friendly way to say goodbye. Luckily, I’m not easily offended, though I’m surprised Olivia didn’t step in and shoo them away.
“Grandma knows best,” I whisper under my breath as I walk toward Olivia who is obviously flustered and pissed. She’s slamming bookmarks and bracelets around like they insulted her.
“Everything okay?” I grab a bucket of lip balms from the table and neatly place them in the box she’s taking her aggression out on. “Okay then.”
She stops in her tracks, and the look on her face is frightening as hell. “Do I look okay? Rachel is extremely pissed at me because she saw herself tagged on Facebook and there’s red lipstick on her teeth. Apparently, it’s my fault because I didn’t tell her. Honestly, I didn’t fucking notice because she rarely smiles that big.”
I’m trying really hard to understand this because it’s so childish. “There’s not really anything that can be done about it now, though. Right? It’s done. It’s over with.”
Olivia shakes her head. “I will never live this down. I even got the ‘importance of paying attention to detail’ speech. Detail is my middle name,” she grits out.
I notice she’s about to squeeze the life out of two heart-shaped stress balls that Rachel’s series name is printed on. I take them from her hands and place them in the box, then turn to face her, placing my hands on her shoulders to force her to look into my eyes.
“You’re so goddamn tense right now; you’re going to snap in two. Deep breaths. Shake off the bullshit. Okay?” My voice is soft when I speak to her, trying to bring her down from a level ten of angry. Just as the words leave my mouth, Olivia’s phone starts dinging.