by M. E. Carter
He shoves his phone in the back pocket of his very nice fitting jeans. “My flight got here about twenty minutes ago, so I figured we could ride together to the event. I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me.” I watch him carefully as he pulls his phone back from his pocket and then places it back again. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
Wait . . . is he . . . nervous?
“Are you nervous?”
Crap. I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to be fazed by it. Instead, a slight blush creeps across his tan cheeks and he runs his fingers through his lush dirty blond hair.
“A little.”
“But . . . why?”
I’m honestly stumped. Spencer Garrison balances on a skateboard in front of millions of people on a regular basis. I can’t walk in front of ten people without falling over. Spencer Garrison models in his underwear in ads targeted to the masses. I hide my true self behind makeup and a persona. Spencer Garrison is beautiful and well spoken. I’m neither of those things. What in the world does he have to be nervous about?
I watch as he bites his bottom lip. Vaguely, I notice my own nerves slip away as I focus on him.
“The only book signing I’ve ever been to was the one with my sister. I don’t really know what’s going to happen.”
“Oh.” I find myself a little disappointed in his answer, but not quite sure why. “Is that it? There aren’t going to be nearly as many people at these signings as there were at your last games. It should be no biggie for you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really talk to people at the games. I’m skating, Sure, I do interviews with magazines and stuff, but those reporters tend to ask questions about the sport, which I’m comfortable with. This one-on-one stuff is very different. Plus”—he scratches the back of his neck—“I kind of like you, and I’m a little nervous I’ll say the wrong thing.”
My jaw practically hits the ground and it takes a solid ten seconds to realize it. “I . . . uh . . . what?”
“I thought we had a good time in California, but when you didn’t text me back I started to second guess myself and . . . you know what? Never mind.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. Instead, we stand awkwardly in silence as I go through my mental list of conversation starting topics before coming up with an appropriate question. “So how were the holidays?”
“Good, good,” he says quickly. “Got to see my sister.”
“Oh, how is she?”
“She’s good.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and there’s the awkward pause again. Just as I open my mouth to ask another question, he beats me to is. “Do you see your bag on the carousel?”
I look over at the suitcases moving by but don’t really see much of anything. I’m still stuck on the fact that Spencer Garrison likes me and can’t seem to put together a coherent thought any more than I can. I look over my shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of Ashton Kutcher because surely I’m being Punk’d right now.
Nope. No celebrity sighting.
My emotions are suddenly at war with each other. My dream guy, the guy I’ve been crushing on from afar likes me. Part of me is ecstatic at this news. Another part of me is terrified. What if he only likes Adeline Snow, not Agnes Sylvester. There’s a difference.
Still a third part of me is mad about this turn of events. I can’t date my muse. I need him to continue inspiring me and giving me fantasies and plot twists I can weave into stories for my fans. I have a contract to fulfill and a career I’ve committed my life to. I can’t mess that up by taking the one thing that has inspired me over the years and making him “human.”
Can I?
“Adeline?”
“What?” My eyes snap up to his, even as my thoughts continue to swirl.
“Your suitcase.”
“Oh.” A slight shake of my head clears the fog out of my brain. “Yeah. My suitcase. Um . . . it’s that one right there. With all the bumper stickers.”
He smirks when he sees it. Admittedly it’s hard not to miss. Every time I travel somewhere, I get a bumper sticker and put it on the hard plastic. It’s my little reminder of all the things I’ve done and all the places I’ve gone. Makes me feel like I’m getting out in the world and living life. Plus, it makes it so much easier to find at the airport.
Grabbing it from the carousel, Spencer’s bicep bulges and I find myself questioning my own insecurities. I wouldn’t mind having that arm wrapped around me.
No, no, no! He’s your muse. Plus, it’s too soon. You’ve gone to dinner once. Your one and only goal tonight is to make it through the signing without throwing up or end up looking like an idiot on social media again. Stay focused.
“Thank you,” I say shyly and attempt to take it from him, but he doesn’t let go.
“If it’s okay with you, I already scheduled an Uber to take us to the bookstore.”
I nod, probably a little too vigorously and respond with, “Yeah. That’s great. Thank you.”
We walk silently to the door marked “passenger pick up” and quickly find the waiting car. Thankfully, we seem to have gotten a chivalrous driver. He quickly ushers us into the car and puts our suitcases in the trunk. I’m grateful he doesn’t make me stand in the cold. Chilly temps don’t bother me, but the wind practically goes right through me, and I really don’t want to shave my legs again tonight, although it is winter in the northeast, so it’s probably inevitable. No one wants to have prickly legs when wearing a dress, and that’s what I packed. Clearly I didn’t think about temperatures when I threw everything in a suitcase.
The twenty-minute drive crawls by as none of us talk. I try desperately to come up with something to say, some conversation starter, but I’m stumped. It doesn’t help that Spencer’s scent practically surrounds me, making my knees weak. Thank goodness for small victories like not having to stand up.
When we finally arrive at the store, I can see people through the giant glass windows already sitting, waiting for us. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, centering myself and forcing Adeline Snow to come to the surface. Our lovely driver, who only broke a few laws getting us here on time, opens my car door and smiles kindly at me.
“Have a good evening,” he says before disappearing into his car, leaving Spencer and me alone on the sidewalk with our luggage.
“Well. Are you ready for this?”
“I’m never completely ready,” I admit. “But it’s part of the job. Are you ready?”
I watch as all the anxiety he’s been sporting fades away and the confident, charming Spencer Garrison reappears. How does he do that so easily?
Suddenly the front door flies open and a short brunette comes barreling out the door. “Oh good! You’re here!” Her curly hair is flying around in the wind so her face is barely visible. Somehow, she can see through it all, and she grabs the handle of Spencer’s suitcase. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the employee breakroom so you can get ready.”
She takes off through the door and Spencer and I have to race to catch up. Ducking our heads, we both avoid eye contact with anyone who may recognize us, although it’s hard not to notice the woman dragging suitcases noisily through the store followed by an amazing looking man who somehow makes traveling look glamourous. The crowd begins to murmur and I’m sure I see a flash from a camera or two. Fingers crossed I don’t accidentally see stars and run into something.
“Phew!” the crazy haired lady says after we, and all of our luggage, make it behind a door marked “employees only.” “Sorry to whisk you through the store so quickly. Several super fans have been here all day. I was afraid they’d see you and we’d never get them to leave you alone long enough to get back here.”
Spencer’s face blanches and I giggle/snort at how out of his element he really is. You would think being in the public eye he would be used to this, but I suppose book nerds are a breed all their own.
“Anyway, I’m Amy,” she continues excitedly. “I’ll be your assist
ant tonight and will make sure you get to your hotel after we’re done. We still have about ten minutes before the signing is supposed to start. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
“Just a restroom if you have one,” Spencer says.
“Of course!” She leads him around the corner, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Grabbing my heels from my bag, I’m stuck on how different this Spencer is. Is he not as confident as he seems to be? It wouldn’t necessarily be a huge stretch. Lots of celebrities put on a show. It’s just one more layer to him I’m seeing.
The next little while is a blur. When we’re ready, Amy ushers us to a table in the middle of the store amidst cheers and squeals of delight. There are several dozen chairs filled with readers and tagalongs. Probably a few husbands who have come for moral support. Dozens of people stand in the back. Fortunately, Amy has a microphone set up.
After a brief introduction, she hands me the floor. Taking the microphone, I fall back on the intro I usually give.
“Hi everyone. My name is Adeline Snow, and this is Spencer Garrison. We’re so happy to be here tonight.”
I pause and smile at the crowd, giving myself a second to make sure I’m still breathing.
“I think it’s safe to say if you’re here, you’re familiar with my Extreme Love Series.” A few ladies applaud while one shouts a very enthusiastic “seven times” from the back of the room. Well okay then. “That makes me so happy. This series is very near and dear to my heart. My latest release, Freestyle, is a project I’m very proud of. Who knew what kind of sparks would come alive when two competitive snowboarders met in an airport? Anyway, my next release in this series is still under wraps but I promise it will fall right in line with everything you expect from this series.” It better. If I ever write it.
“Many of you probably recognize my co-host, Spencer Garrison, from his many appearances in the X Games. How many golds do you have, Spencer? Five?” I ask as he nods in response. I’ve not spent a lot of time with Spencer, but I can tell by the look on his face, he’s either ready to bolt or throw up. I get it, I really do. I’m honestly surprised I’m as calm as I am right now. I’m both pleasantly surprised with myself and waiting for the inevitable “Aggi moment” to happen.
“Well, as you know my series is centered around the X Games, and who better to spend a time with me while I visit a few of the cities that have held our beloved games other than him.” The men in the crowd seem to like this tidbit and visibly relax when they realize this isn’t an event only for women.
“I’ve rambled enough, so let’s make it easy and open the floor to questions for either of us.”
I point at the first hand that goes up, although I can’t see who it is until she stands. A red-faced, red haired woman looks delighted to be here, which makes me happy. I love when readers are happy.
“Hi Adeline. I’ve read all your books.”
Another thing to smile about. “Thank you.”
“But I notice in this series the main male characters always have dirty blond hair and blue eyes. Is there any reason for that? Is that your type, personally?”
Glancing at Spencer, I notice a strange look on his face. Quickly turning away, I pray my face isn’t red. That’s a dead giveaway that my type is sitting right next to me.
Also, I make a mental note to search my next book and make sure the hero has black hair and brown eyes. “I don’t really have one,” I lie. “Just lots of stories in my head.”
The crowd murmurs, and they probably don’t believe me, but at least it’s done. I lied through my teeth and am hopefully moving on. But that look on Spencer’s face has me spooked. It’s like he could see right through me.
I just hope he didn’t see anything he didn’t like.
Chapter 12
Spencer
I lied. A lot. I’m not nervous about this signing at all. Crowds don’t bother me in the slightest, and I really don’t care what people think of me. But I care what Adeline thinks. I care way too much.
She’s quirky and beautiful but she’s so much more. She’s talented. I’ve been reading her books like it’s my job and now I get it. Her words are a thing of magic. There are dips and turns and flips. It’s like skateboarding but with words on a page.
Beyond all of that, she’s kind and patient. Even in Chicago, anyone could see she gets a little shy and would prefer not to have the spotlight on her. But, with her fans she’s amazing. She is engaged, and her smile never looks forced or fake. Well, except when we took a picture together.
I’ve been around my fair share of celebrities, both in the entertainment and sports industries, and it’s not often I encounter someone who seems to have a true and honest affection for their fans. So many take the “little people” for granted. But not Adeline Snow. She sees them, and she connects with them.
It’s strange to me that at both book related events I’ve been to, Adeline has been a speaker and the question of her muse has come up. She seems to skirt the question and wave it off like it’s unimportant. If people are asking, surely it is important to them. Truthfully, it’s been a question I’ve had as well. After reading two of her books, I found a common theme with the lead characters. Specifically, the male characters. Kate told me to refer to them as the “Heroes,” but I feel like a tool using that term, so I don’t. Tonight, when the woman asked her what her type was, and described him, I watched her as she contemplated a response. Shouldn’t that be a simple question? When she was asked if that was her type as well, I sat up a little straighter, curious myself. Tall, dark hair, and light eyes with an athletic build. I check all those boxes. If she’s writing about them, maybe that’s her type too.
I should be so lucky. What are the chances the attraction and connection I feel for Adeline is mutual? After the way she left me hanging in LA and again at the airport, I doubt it’s true, but it would be nice.
Adi and I both answered questions for about thirty minutes. Okay, she did most of the answering while I smiled and nodded. I could have said more, but I was too engaged in watching her in her element. Her passion for her fans is a thing of beauty to me. I could have watched her all night.
Instead, after a brief intermission, we were directed to a small corner where a table was set up with two seats for us. Adi would be signing books and I would be, well I guess ready to take photos and meet and greet the three people who even know who I am here.
The line is long, but the organizers have given people numbers to allow them an opportunity to shop while they wait for their designated group to meet Adi. A few small clusters of people are lingering nearby and every so often I hear my name mentioned but mostly it’s white noise as I play out the time I’ve spent with Adeline Snow. Watching her at the conference, in the hallway when I stopped her, my sister and her ridiculous fangirl freak-outs. I smile as I think of how adorable she was slamming the door in the poor porter’s face at the hotel and how she was so in the moment taking pictures at Venice Beach.
The look on her face when I basically told her I liked her keeps flashing through my mind like a damn strobe light. Was I too bold? Too forward? I was only being honest, and I thought she’d appreciate the honesty. The women she writes in her books are take charge and independent women. I thought for sure some of that was her. I mean, they also stumble and spill a lot. Surely, she wouldn’t only write the silly things she does into her characters. Did I scare her away? Is she not interested at all? I thought we hit it off in Venice, but not getting a response to my texts certainly knocked my confidence level down a few pegs.
“Spencer?” Her hand on my bicep jars me from my thoughts. “Would you mind taking a picture? Lisa’s son is a huge fan of yours and she’d love to get a picture with you too.” I look up at the woman standing before us. Her smile is huge and she’s bouncing a little on her toes.
“Of course. I have a few of these photos,” I say, motioning to the pile of glossies Freddy shipped to the bookstore. I forgot he told me about them until one of the employees dr
opped them off at our table. “Would your son like one autographed?”
You’d think I offered Lisa the key to my new house in Lexington the way she squeals. Okay then. “What’s his name?”
“Cayden. That’s C-A-Y-D-E-N. Oh, my goodness. Thank you. He’s going to flip.”
I quickly scribble a note to Cayden and sign my name before handing a few pictures to Lisa and rising from my seat. Lisa and Adi have shifted a little and there’s nowhere for me to stand so I walk around the table instead, not knowing where to stand.
“Oh Adi, would you mind if Spencer is in the middle?”
Adi smiles and I kind of fumble a little, surprised one of her fans would want to stand next to me. Lisa snuggles in close but not Adi. She’s at least two full steps away from us.
Needing to be closer to her, I take a chance and grab her around the waist. Immediately she tenses, but I don’t get the feeling it’s from being uncomfortable. It’s more like her anxiety has kicked in again.
Wanting to help, I lean in and whisper, “Relax. We’re just taking pictures.”
She continues to fidget so I try another tactic using my modeling 101 training.
“Smile.”
She stops fidgeting momentarily but is still frozen. Glancing at her face, I suppress a chuckle.
“Stop flaring your nostrils,” I whisper.
Her shoulders suddenly relax, but it’s painfully obvious she doesn’t know what to do in this position.
“Put your hand on your hip.”
She raises her arm and . . .
“Oof.” I suck in a breath and try desperately not to topple over as pain shoots through my abdomen. “Wrong arm.”
“Ohmygod.” Her hands fly over her face. “I just elbowed you in the junk, didn’t I? Ohmygod.”
People in the crowd begin to snicker and I know this moment in time is about to go viral.
Again.
•••
Other than the punch to the junk, the rest of the night went by quickly. The store had this type of event down to a science and although it’s late here, I’m still on California time. My stomach rumbles and reminds me it’s been hours since I’ve had so much as a piece of cheese.