by Alexis Anne
“Moccasins.”
“You’re on your own if we find one of those,” he chuckled. “Those fuckers scare me.”
“They’re like zombies. They never die no matter how many times you try.” I watched a neighbor four houses down shoot one, then go at it with a shovel and an ax trying to get its head off for thirty minutes. Now granted, it was the largest water moccasin I’d ever seen in my life, but still . . . he shot it and had to hack the head off with an ax. All while it was still writhing on the ground dead. Ew. I had nightmares about that for months.
“Don’t forget the wasp nests,” he cautioned as I reached for the gate. They notoriously loved to build nests on the underside of fences.
“We keep an eye out for nests. Can’t have little girls crying over wasp stings.”
“Good,” he whispered as he let me go.
I walked through the fence and waited until it swung closed. As if it symbolically ended our night as guests of the Spencer’s and returned us to the awkward world of Zoe and Erik.
So I didn’t waste any time. “I wanted to apologize to you. The last couple of weeks have been weird and I’m sure you’re confused by my freak-outs.”
“A little.” His shoulders rose and fell. “I’m worried about you, Zoe. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He’d already helped. I was a black and white kind of girl when it came to people. I dated two guys before Tony and then it was nothing but Tony for five years. It was all or nothing. I was just now realizing it wasn’t that way for most people.
“I moved to Tampa because I’d boxed myself into the wrong life. I needed a clean start.” Yeah, I didn’t plan on sharing that. And yet, my mouth was still moving. “Sometimes things come up. Big things like book deals that are bigger and more monumental that I ever imagined would happen to someone like me and it . . . ” I stopped and turned toward him, looking up into his very handsome, moonlit face. “It makes me realize I haven’t gotten to where I need to be yet. I still make the same bad choices.”
“Was kissing me one of those bad choices?” His eyes searched mine, filled with worry.
My soul ached to erase that look.
And that right there was exactly what I needed to deal with. It was that need that got me into so much trouble so long ago. It felt different with Erik, though. With Tony I always felt desperate to make everything better because, if I was being honest, I was scared for my own happiness, not his.
This felt entirely different. I didn’t ache because my happiness was being threatened, but because I was the one who caused the look. I wanted to fix it. Felt compelled to right a wrong I didn’t mean to commit.
“I don’t regret kissing you,” I whispered. “But I am sorry I used you.”
He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over my cheek before letting it drop back to his side. “I didn’t feel used.”
My heart beat faster in my chest, heat raced through my veins, my breath grew faster. “I know that now.”
“Was that all you wanted to say?”
It was crazy how I could feel all of him without touching him. The heat and humidity created a pocket around us, intensifying the sensation that some sort of electric field was being generated between our bodies.
“No,” I whispered, feeling dizzy again.
“What else did you want to tell me?”
He needed to touch me, ground me. Otherwise I might fly away, I was sure of it. But he wasn’t going to touch me unless I asked because Erik was just that kind of guy.
So I reached out and steadied my hands on his forearms. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, his hands flipping around to wrap around my forearms. It was the most amazing and strange way to be closer to him.
I swallowed. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Erik.”
“But . . . you didn’t like being around me. I thought you hated me.”
I wanted to kiss all the confusion away. The way his brow furrowed, the lost look to his eyes, I wanted to kiss every single bit of it away until he understood I was just as messed up about him as he’d been about me all these years.
“I didn’t hate you. I hated the way you made me feel.” It was a lot harder to admit all of this than I’d like. My characters always made it seem like a weight was being lifted and something new and wonderful was being born, but instead it was a lot more like being torn in two. “If we’d spent any time together I’d have kissed you just like I did in the parking lot. Every time I’m around you—ever since we first met—all I can think about is kissing you.”
He blinked several times and moved closer to me, his head dropped like he was going to kiss me right now but then he stopped and I realized his hands had tightened on my arm.
“So you avoided me at all costs?”
“Yes. I just . . . I didn’t want anyone to have that much power over me. I kept thinking a little more time or distance would make it easier but . . . Erik, it never got easier.”
He stepped back, removing his hands and any hope for another one of those amazing kisses. I watched with my heart in my throat as he walked in a circle while running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” He stopped and locked his eyes on mine. “I’m so sorry you felt that way about us. I think I understand a lot more now.”
Then why was he over there? We could be kissing now.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Never, Zo. But what I feel around you is amazing and what you just described,” he shook his head again, “it’s not amazing. I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me or what you feel around me. Do you understand?”
Not really. I mean, I did. But I also didn’t. “You don’t want me to be scared.”
“Exactly. So I think we should keep doing what we’re doing. We should be friends before we think about anything more.”
Friends.
Two weeks ago that word would have been tolerable but now it was disappointing. Friends wasn’t enough.
“All right.”
He stepped closer. “I just want to make sure we’re both ready. That we both understand what we’re getting into.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek again. “It’s taking everything I have to hold back, darlin’. When I finally let go I need to know you’re in it with me. I don’t think I could take watching you walk away from me.”
“Erik,” I sighed his name because damn that was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever heard in real life.
His thumb drifted to my lips, then he stepped completely away from me. I’d never felt more naked.
“I wanted to ask if you were busy next Thursday? I’d love it if you could talk to my sister while she’s here.” He kept his gaze carefully trained over my shoulder, his hands shoved in his pockets.
Friends again.
Cold, distant friends who knew all too well how spine-tingling hot it was to kiss each other.
But he was right. I wasn’t ready for more. Yet. “Um, sure? Why?”
“She’s graduating in December. Has a great internship and a job already lined up.”
“I’m lost.”
He glanced back at me and I was surprised to see how much heat was still simmering in those dark depths. “That’s the problem, you see. She’s logical to a fault. She’s playing everything safe. Belle has been scribbling in notebooks since she could hold a pencil. Reminds me a lot of you. I thought maybe you could talk to her about the publishing industry, give her some insight.” He shrugged. “I know it’s a volatile business and nothing is guaranteed no matter how good you are but I hate that she’s boxing out an entire piece of who she is because it isn’t practical.” His words had everything to do with his little sister, but his eyes screamed an entirely different story.
“Of course. Just let me know when as soon as possible so I can set aside the time.” My hands shook as I swept my hair over my shoulder to let some air cool my neck.
“How about one o’clock?” His voice sounded rough like the air was running over sandpaper. �
��We have a box for the Bolts and Pythons scrimmage game. We can hang out and maybe it won’t seem so much like a setup to my sister.”
Hockey? I just barely understood baseball. But then again, it would be cool inside and involve free beer. Plus more time around Erik as friends. “Uh, sure. As long as you don’t mind my complete lack of knowledge of the sport.”
His eyes danced again. “The only sport that matters is baseball and you do just fine there.” Then he cleared his throat. “So I’ll see you Thursday?” So much hope in that little sentence.
“I’ll be there.”
“Sleep well, Zoe.” He waved me up the porch steps, careful to keep his distance.
I took the first two steps then turned to look down at him, feeling the electricity pulsing between us, the way the hair on my arm rose up just the way I described in my books. Huh. Funny that I could write something I’d never actually felt until now. “Good night, Erik.”
He stood there, staring at me. I shifted on my feet feeling completely awkward.
“I’m going to watch you go inside and lock the door, Zoe. I want to be sure you’re safe.”
My heart skipped. “From the gators?”
He jerked his chin toward the door. “Humor an overprotective guy, would you?”
I scurried across the porch, punched the code into the back door, and slipped inside. Sure enough, Erik waited until he heard the deadbolt slide into place, then waved.
9
Zoe
Dreams Come True
“Go for Zoe.”
My agent, Maggie Horst, snort-laughed into the phone. “Glad to know I called the right person.”
“What? I always wanted to say that.” The jerky agent in movies always said that when they answered the phone. Considering Maggie’s email said she was calling about my movie I figured it was an appropriate moment to give it a shot.
“And how did it feel?”
“As stupid as it sounds.” Seriously. Why did anyone think saying “Go for insert-own-name-here,” was a good thing?
“I’ll make this quick since it’s just passing along information,” she said. “Adriana Gat has officially signed on to direct.”
This was no surprise since she’d been attached to the project, along with the producers, since the moment they offered me the deal. “Awesome.” My dream of having a female powerhouse team deliver my movie about resilient women on the frontier was quickly coming true.
“And we’ve got some casting news.”
I sat up a little straighter. “Who?”
“Lily Lawrence and Scott Kaine for the leads.”
My jaw dropped. Lily and Scott were a modern day John and Maureen, or Hepburn and Tracey, or Bacall and Bogart. They’d starred in two movies now and everyone loved them together on the silver screen, myself included.
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all. They’re both very interested and are checking availability now. We should know this time next week whether this is happening.”
I really hoped she didn’t have any other news because I didn’t think my heart could handle it. “This is absolutely amazing, Maggie. Thank you so, so much. For everything.”
“It’s all you, Zoe. I’m just taking offers and making sure you’re taken care of.”
She was being modest. It wasn’t often a writer demanded to be part of the screenwriting process or have final say over the script, but I was confident in my ability to be an asset, not a burden, and really? I couldn’t imagine sending The Fight at Midnight Springs out into the world with anyone else’s words.
Maggie made sure my demands were taken seriously and arranged a sit down, in-person meeting with the producers. We chatted about movie adaptations and I showed them a sample script of how I thought the movie could be an extension of the book instead a shortened retelling.
Once they understood I didn’t want to write the whole thing myself and that I had a good handle on how the process worked, it went smoothly from there. We all agreed on a screenwriter together, Melanie Shaw, and no one had a problem after that. I flew out to spend a week with Melanie brainstorming and writing test pages, then I left her to do her work. There was mutual respect for everyone attached the project so far and I was hopeful that casting would be the same.
Maggie assured me it would be and at this point she’d taken such good care of me that I believed her.
“Do you have any other news for me or should I call a doctor to revive me?”
She laughed again. “Nope that’s it for today. But once we get Lily and Scott, expect for the rest to get cast quickly.”
“What about composers?” Since everything was already magical rainbows and mermaids I’d had the crazy idea to ask if my favorite composer was available to do the score.
“We still haven’t heard back from Nora Phillips but that isn’t surprising. According to her agent she doesn’t answer phone calls or check messages while she’s composing. Susan said it would probably be another week.”
“Thanks Maggie.”
“No problem. Have a good afternoon, Zoe.”
I performed a ridiculous victory dance around my bedroom before dropping back down in front of my computer and calling up a chat window.
Me: Four words: Lily Lawrence. Scott Kaine.
I wondered how long it would be before I got a reply. My writing group was pretty much always connected online, sharing personal details about our lives as much as we discussed our work. But without fail, the moment anyone had big, big news, everyone else would be busy and away from their computers.
Sure enough, five minutes passed before I got my first reply.
Julia: Please tell me this is casting news!
Lindsay: Are you watching The Price of Love again? (Please say this is casting news!)
I waited another thirty seconds just to be cruel, then typed:
Me: CASTING NEWS! Nothing solid yet. They’re “checking availability.”
I got a lot of screamface emojis sent my way from everyone and the messages started coming in fast. I relayed my phone call with Maggie in excruciating detail because—shocker here—writers like to know everything. What were you feeling? What do you think she really meant?
Alexandra: This means champagne in two weeks! Wait, not even! Just over a week!
We had a writing retreat at a beach house just south of Tampa in nine days (not that I was counting.) Some of us were signing at a reader event nearby and since we all enjoyed a good reason to be together (for business purposes of course) we booked a nice big house on the gulf and three solid days of writing time.
I couldn’t wait. My relationship with these six women would always be unique and special. Like a secret sisterhood. You kind of had to be in it to really understand all the secrets that bound us.
And my goodness did we have secrets.
10
ERIK
You’d Be Surprised How Much You Don’t Know About Women Until You Read a Book Written by a Woman About What Women Want
“You look like hell,” Wes said as he dropped into the booth beside me. We were on the road in Philadelphia and he insisted we stop for a cheesesteak and beer at his favorite dive bar. Seth and Chris sat across from us.
“You really do,” Seth said. “I was just too afraid to say it in case you did something to me in my sleep when we got home.”
“Whatever. You’re all assholes.”
Wes threw back his beer and drained half of it. “Yes, we are. But you still look like hell.”
“It’s not affecting your game though,” Chris said, hands up.
Well at least I knew this wasn’t an intervention about my career.
Just my life.
“As much as I enjoy hearing about how shitty I look, I think I’ll head back to the hotel . . . ”
Wes clapped his big ugly hand down on my shoulder. “Stay.”
Fuck.
“What’s going on?” Chris asked. He was probably the most out of the loop since he wasn’t friends wit
h Zoe and he didn’t live with me.
So if I was looking for a bright side in this incredibly uncomfortable discussion, it was that my friends weren’t gossiping about me behind my back.
“This stays between us,” Wes said. He sat up taller like he was some sort of club president calling a secret meeting.
Whatever. I didn’t care. “You know Zoe?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Pretty little thing that works for Eve?”
To my credit, I did not crush the beer in my hand. “She used to work for Eve. She’s a very successful writer now.”
“And yes,” Wes grinned, “she’s that pretty little thang.”
Because he said that specifically to get a rise out of me I didn’t punch him, but I imagined punching him right on his pretty little jaw.
Chris looked back and forth between us. “You banging her?”
Fuck me. These bastards were going to kill me. “No,” I gritted out.
“But he wants to be.”
“I swear to god I will kill you, Wes.” I closed my eyes and imagined choking him.
“Ah, so you’re sexually frustrated,” Chris said. “We can help find you some relief. There are a few very hot waitresses in here who I’m sure would be thrilled to spend the night with Erik Cassidy.” Chris batted his eyelashes and turned falsetto.
“Eyes on me you little shits.” I waited until I had all of their attention. “I am not in the mood to be made fun of. I do not want to sleep with a waitress. What is happening between me and Zoe is between me and Zoe. If you want to help, you can put a pause on being assholes while I eat. I’m sure that alone will reduce my stress level.”
Seth snorted. “Told you.”
Wes grimaced, then pulled five bucks out of his wallet and slid it across the table.
“What. The. Fuck. Is. That?” It was clearly a bet, but on what?
Seth grinned as he shoved the money in his pocket. “I bet Wes that you want to make Zoe your lady and that you wouldn’t let us talk smack about her.”