by Chelsea Hale
Alice nodded her consent, then eyed Mandy, and smiled. “Work is very important to Derek.”
Mandy nodded. “Apparently. How nice he can take off at a moment’s notice to accompany you on a trip.”
She snorted, and took a drink of her iced tea before she responded, “This is the first time he has ever taken off at a moment’s notice, or at any notice.”
“Alice. I know we just signed the contract, but truly, I don’t want to be in the way of you spending time with your grandson.”
Alice put her hand over the one Mandy rested next to her drink. “Nonsense. I signed up for this and you aren’t getting out of it. I want you to show me how to enjoy cruising, and to be my adventure guide, as I turn over this new leaf in my life. I can’t imagine Derek will be around much anyway.”
She blew out a breath. Here’s hoping Derek decides to do his own thing for the entire cruise.
Read The Companion now!
Mr. Write
Chapter One
Liz Montgomery bolted into the football stadium as the third quarter began. She stopped to catch her breath, the air around her felt thin. She was late. Parking six blocks away and running the whole way in sandals had left her winded. Her dry throat ached for relief. She’d need more than a week back from her summer in Texas to acclimate to the altitude in Boulder.
The familiar smells of concession food, warm air, and hot metal mixed together, inviting her to the nearest line to quench her thirst. It was a perfect day for the first game of the season. Her twin brother, Grip, played quarterback for the University of Colorado, and she watched every game. Normally.
This was all her brother, Sam’s fault. Why had he called an hour before the game to tell her he was bringing someone for her to meet? Maybe having her roommate hide her car keys was a bad idea after all. She had only wanted to be twenty minutes late, not miss the first half of the game.
The single concession stand employee juggled filling drinks and taking payments. She craned her neck toward the field, squinting against the late afternoon sun. The cheering grew louder, and she scowled at her obstructed view of the field. If she hurried, she might catch the instant replay on the screen.
Every guy Sam had set her up with, since breaking off her engagement two years ago, was disastrous. She thought after the last time, Sam had taken the hint that she could find her own dates. Apparently not.
She tapped on the counter after getting her large root beer. “Could I get a lid?” Liz asked, as she paid the cashier.
“Sorry, all out. The other concession stand might have one.” The cashier returned Liz’s card.
She sipped her drink down a few inches. The bubbly liquid soothed her dry throat. She descended the stairs toward her front row seat. CU’s fight song broke out, and the entire home section stood and cheered. Everyone stopped to join in, and Liz watched the instant replay of a sweet tackle on the big screen.
Ahead of her a guy went down the stairs, his sculpted shoulders boasted regular use. Even from her raised angle, he seemed tall. She didn’t pay attention and lost her footing. She collided with the muscles in front of her. His nachos flew from his paper tray. Root beer shot out of her cup, showering them both with the brown sticky carbonation. The guy grabbed the handrail and steadied them both. His strong hand wrapped around her arm, keeping her upright.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Liz stared into the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung halfway open as she studied the man who broke her fall. He was probably around her age, mid-20s. His strong jaw was evident as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, pushing his left cheek into a deep dimple.
She blinked, raising her gaze to his eyes again. They held amusement. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what happened.”
“You knocked me off my feet,” he said.
Heat crept up her neck. “Under different circumstances those words would thrill me.” She laughed until she looked down at her shirt and his, then groaned. Normally fans wore black. Of course, she and the guy she drenched were the only white fish amidst the sea of black and gold logos. Stickiness settled on her skin.
If Sam wasn’t already suspicious that her late arrival meant she was avoiding the set up, he might wrongly assume she purposefully spilled on herself to make a bad first impression. There was only one thing to do. She’d head back up the stairs and buy a new shirt.
“Thanks for breaking my fall.” Her voice came out breathy. The air really was thinner.
“Anytime.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Anytime? Really?! I don’t think I’ll plan that move again.”
It was his turn to laugh. A deep, rich laugh that made her want to join in.
Instead, she crossed to the other side of the stairs. “Thanks again.”
“Wait. Where’re you going?” he asked. He picked up his ruined paper tray of nachos and followed her back up the stairs.
Her pulse quickened. He was good-looking and had a beautiful voice. But she was about to be set up with someone. Not that she was looking forward to that. On second thought, maybe this was an okay situation after all. A little flirting with a stranger may be the exact thing to turn Sam’s friend off. She’d find her own dates.
She paused on the stairs, then turned to face him. “I’m going to buy a shirt. I just got here and should look presentable coming to the game. It’s kind of important.”
“So important that you came halfway through?” His eyes sparkled.
She smiled. “Can you keep a secret?” She ran up the stairs, hoping he would follow. Once at the top, she headed toward the nearest apparel store.
“You tell secrets to people you don’t know?” He stood next to her.
Liz held out her hand, her mouth going dry. “I’m Liz. Nice to meet you.”
He shook her hand firmly. “Tyler.”
“Now that we know each other, I can tell you my brother is setting me up today. I’m not really in the mood for that, so I didn’t want to be on time.” She grabbed two fitted CU shirts from the rack. “Which do you like better? The light or the dark?”
“The dark.”
“Me too.” She put the light one back, and grabbed a matching men’s in large, and headed to the register.
“So, you decided to blow him off?” His eyes widened.
The cashier rung Liz up. “Of course not. I can’t show up late to the game for no reason.” They walked out of the store, and she handed Tyler the men’s shirt.
He thanked her for it, then nodded. “What’s your excuse?”
She pulled the tags off her shirt. “My roommate hid my car keys really well this time, and it took me longer to find them than I anticipated.”
“Why would she hide your keys?”
Liz grinned. “I asked her to. If I can’t find them, it’s a perfectly legitimate reason to be late to a game. Only it took longer than I planned to locate them.”
Tyler raised his eyebrows.
She held up the merchandise bag. “That’s why I had to come buy a shirt. If I show up drenched, my brother is bound to know I’m trying to make a bad impression when I meet his friend. He’ll assume I’ve spent the first half of the game avoiding him.”
“Which you did.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
“And you’re telling me because?”
She shrugged. “I spilled my root beer on both of us and needed a new shirt.”
He stopped in front of the concession stand. “I’m going to get some food. Mine was soaked by a beautiful redhead,” he said. He ordered nachos and a large root beer.
She pushed her card toward the cashier before Tyler retrieved his. “Let me. I owe you.”
“Thanks.” He held out the tray covered with chips, cheese and jalapenos toward her. “Want some? You bought them.”
She gingerly lifted a nacho with three jalapenos on it, and popped it in her mouth. She swallowed it without batt
ing an eye at the heat. “You don’t prefer your nachos drenched in root beer? It’s all the rage in some parts of the country.” Her lips twitched. She couldn’t help teasing him. He intrigued her.
“Which parts exactly?”
“Oh, you know, everywhere but here. But we’re catching on to the trend.” She gestured between them. “Someday we might be thanked for capturing the vision of the drink spilling movement.”
He leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, “Until the drink spilling movement becomes a trend, you can have this all to yourself. Deal?” He handed her the root beer, brushing her fingers with his. “It was nice meeting you, Liz. I better get back to the game.”
She raised her eyebrows at him and nodded. He probably had a girlfriend. It didn’t matter. After this encounter, she would tell Sam that she was perfectly capable of finding her own dates, if she wanted. “And I better go change. Thanks for the root beer.”
“Thank you for the amusement.”
Liz changed her shirt, and surveyed the status of her hair—root beer had matted down the top in a sticky mess. She blotted her curls with wet paper towels but not much could be done to salvage them. The hand dryer would only make it frizzy. She pulled her thick, red hair into an unflattering ponytail.
She was on auto-pilot as she made her way to her season-ticketed seat. Her thoughts wandered repeatedly to Tyler, and to how she would let Sam and his friend down easy.
“Where have you been?” Sam didn’t remove his eyes from the game. “Grip is tearing it up out there. The game is practically over and you never miss a game.”
Liz sat down in her seat. She was surprised that Sam, and not her blind date, sat in the chair directly next to hers. On Sam’s other side, her blind date sat between her parents. He was turned away from Liz, talking to her mom, on the far side of the group. The thought that her blind date chatted it up between her dad and mom made her blood pressure rise. Why wasn’t he sitting next to Sam?
She couldn’t imagine the stories her mom might have shared while she hadn’t been here. Had she known she wouldn’t have been late. She was overanalyzing—Sam wasn’t the best judge of her taste in guys. Besides, she’d worked up the exact thing to say, and thanks to Tyler, she didn’t even have to make the story up.
“Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find my keys. And I had to park six blocks away. Then I ran into a guy and we hit it off. It wasn’t too long, but we shared some food and talked. I know you want to introduce me to your friend but I met someone. I’m sorry to trouble you.”
Sam burst out laughing. “He must be amazing if you don’t want an introduction.” His voice was louder than it needed to be.
Liz touched his arm, lowering her voice. “Sam, I’m thankful you look out for me. It’s sweet of you. But I really can find my own dates.”
Sam surveyed her pulled back damp ringlets. “So, this guy you ran into, you’re going to date him?”
She shrugged, watching a lineman intercept the ball before she answered. “Maybe.”
He smirked. “Did you give him your number?”
“No.” The flaw in her logic came forward.
“So, the next time you run into him, you’ll give him your number, then?”
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Yes, I will. But fine. I’ll meet your friend.”
Sam laughed. Hard.
“What’s so funny?”
“I wasn’t trying to set you up.”
“You weren’t?”
“Do you remember the last time I did that?” He shook his head. “I won’t go there again.”
Confusion wrinkled her brow. “But you told me to look nice. And said you had someone you wanted me to meet. At the game.”
Sam wiped a pretend tear from his eye. He waved his fingers over her. “You coming straight from a shower with wet hair and a CU shirt is you looking nice? You wanted to make this your first impression?”
She held up the CU store bag. “No. I had a root beer mishap. So, I did damage control.” She pushed against his arm.
Sam raised his eyebrows. “You spilled root beer on the guy you hit it off with?”
Liz couldn’t read his expression. But she decided it was best to answer the questions about the root beer before it became a family dinner conversation topic she’d never live down. “Drenched us both. But since I assumed you wanted to set me up, I didn’t want to show up soaked.”
Grip scored a touchdown, and Liz jumped to her feet with the rest of her family as the crowd went wild.
Sam cleared his throat. “Let me introduce you to the person who caused you to change.” Sam motioned to his dad, and his dad swapped seats with the stranger.
The guy in the dark shirt turned toward her. Liz saw his face for the first time and her eyes widened. What were the odds? Tyler stared back at her.
“Tyler.” Sam gestured toward Tyler. “This is my sister, Liz. She had some trouble getting here. Apparently, she was also drenched in root beer. Liz, this is Tyler, Kyle’s biographer. He’s in town to interview us.”
Kyle’s biographer? Sam really wasn’t trying to set her up.
Her older brother, Kyle, was two years older than Sam, and starting his sixth season of stardom in the NFL. Being MVP, running a successful charity, and following in his older brother, Ron’s and dad’s footsteps made him someone people watched. It wasn’t surprising that he’d have a biography done.
Sam nudged Liz with his elbow. “I let him borrow my hat since I didn’t want him to look unpresentable when you finally showed up.”
Liz glared at her brother, then looked back at Tyler.
Neither of them moved, then Tyler cleared his throat, and extended his hand, for the second introduction of the day. “Tyler Lakewood. A pleasure to meet you.”
Her burning cheeks flamed with blotchy heat. “And you,” she mumbled.
Sam exchanged seats with Tyler. “Don’t get any ideas about dating my sister, Tyler.” Sam leaned toward them, out of the hearing range of Liz’s parents. “Apparently, she ran into someone on her way in, though she didn’t give him her number. But next time she sees him, she’s going to fix that, since they hit it off. I don’t set her up anymore.” He turned and started talking with their dad.
Could her older brother be more annoying?
Liz kept her gaze on the field, keenly aware of Tyler’s gaze in her direction.
Tyler’s arm brushed against hers on the armrest between them. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?” Sure, her brother could embarrass her, but mostly she embarrassed herself. What were the odds that Sam wanted to introduce her to the same person she ran into?
“I had no way to explain the root beer on my shirt. I told Sam. I didn’t know you were related to him.”
But Sam knew. He’d been laughing at her the whole time. That’s why he wanted to get the story out of her first. She’d give him a piece of her mind later.
Liz shrugged it off. Then she whispered, “Please don’t tell him that I had my roommate hide my keys. I might not be able to live that part down.”
“And the part about your number?”
She laughed. “I’ll live that part down. Besides I don’t need his advice on who I should date.”
“Of course, you don’t.”
“Kyle didn’t mention he was having a biography done.” She knew he’d had several offers by biographers to get his story over the years. But he hadn’t once mentioned that he was going to have a biography written this season.
“It was only finalized a few days ago.”
She surveyed Tyler again. He couldn’t be much older than she was. Why in the world would Kyle choose him to do the story? She was less than a year from graduating with her Masters in English. She wasn’t really expecting to write Kyle’s book herself, but Tyler couldn’t have more experience than she did, could he?
Time to put her journalism skills to work. “How many biographies have you published?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s a
ctually a new genre for me. I’m ahead of schedule for production, and my agent thought I could get the majority of this written without any impact to my other projects.”
A new genre? Meaning his experience wasn’t high. She hoped he wasn’t a groupie, of Kyle, or her family, but she had to know. “Why did Kyle choose you?”
“You object to his choice?”
Object to Tyler? No. But she’d seen how her family’s fame affected others. “Just curious. If you’ve never written a football player’s biography before, why are you interested now?”
Tyler shrugged, turning back to the game and cheering for Grip, though Liz missed the play Tyler cheered for. “Kyle asked me. It’s different enough from what I regularly write, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“Give it a try?” Maybe he was just another fan of her brothers, looking for an in. That was too bad. She couldn’t be interested in someone who only wanted to be connected to her family. Not again.
“Let’s save the book inquisition for later, and you can give me your phone number now, like you told Sam you would the next time you saw me.” His green eyes sparkled.
Heat flared on her cheeks.
His smile revealed his dimple. “I can always get it from Sam.”
If he wasn’t interested in a connection to her family, she’d give him her number in a heartbeat. But as Kyle’s biographer? “I can always ignore you if you do.”
“Did you have a sundaes for breakfast kind of day, or are you going to tell me all of the details now?” Jenny sat on the couch and looked up from her book when Liz entered. She owned a four-bedroom house, and she and Liz had been roommates since freshman year in college. Eating sundaes for breakfast and swapping date stories was Liz’s favorite roommate tradition. “New shirt? Or did you change again before you left?”
Liz dropped the bag containing her stained shirt, then joined Jenny on the couch. “It’s new. Are Mandy and Coco still out?” She wanted to tell all of her roommates at once.
“You do have a story. I knew it.” Jenny jumped up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. Her straight chestnut hair swayed perfectly in its place. No crazy hair for Jenny. But then, Liz’s hair standing out like a bonfire in a sea of blonds and brunettes was the reason Jenny remembered her years ago.