Page 20 of You Make Me Feel
And I’m still standing there, my wrist tingling, wondering what exactly he meant.
Thankfully the rest of the day passes quickly. It turns out we actually do have a delivery, a big one, just a little later in the day. It’s full of summer blockbusters and some special edition romance books that tell me exactly what Romy’s podcast is going to be about next week.Why Choosebooks. Specifically about hockey. Maybe I should read one to push the thought of being chased out of my mind.
It'd be so much easier to be turned on by the thought of having a harem of hockey players. And less embarrassing when I happen to bump into a certain Fitzgerald brother.
Romy comes in later that afternoon, carrying a stack of college work because she’s come here straight from class.
“How was book club?” I ask her as I go to put the last of the special edition books on display.
She takes it from me. “Oh God, this one is good. You need to read it next. If you’ve ever dreamed of having multiple orgasms from multiple men against your will, you’ll love it.”
I lift a brow. “That wasn’t in my top ten of fairytales when I was a kid,” I say deadpan.
She grins, leaning on the counter, her elbows just fitting in between the catalogue I’ve been going through and the coffee cup that’s been there since I bought it from Mylene’s after my run and promptly forgot about it. “It should have been. And book club was… therapeutic.” She lets out a sigh. “For them, mostly. Though I’ll admit, watching a bunch of emotionally constipated men talk about classic literature is my new favorite sport.”
I can’t help laughing. I still can’t imagine them actually listening to her. “So, what’s the goss? Are they actuallyreading, or is this a front for getting out of the house for a while?”
“Oh, they’re reading,” she says, her grin widening. “Asher spent ten minutes arguing that he’s nothing like Maxim de Winter, which of course means he’s exactly like Maxim de Winter. And Hudson did his love language homework. I swear, if Skyler doesn’t give me the biggest hug the next time I see her, I’ll be shocked.”
“That woman deserves a medal,” I say.
“She has one. It’s called a husband who finally communicates.”
I roll my eyes. “Sounds terrifying.” I don’t ask any more questions because I want to maintain plausible deniability if any of my friends ask me about the club.
“Speaking of terrifying,” Romy says. “You’ve got circles under your eyes. Were you up late?”
“Not that I remember,” I say. “I crashed the second I got home.”
“Good,” she says, pulling a piece of gum from its wrapper. “You needed that.”
I really did. Mostly thanks to the sleepless nights from Red. “I have some paperwork to do,” I say. “I’m planning on locking myself up in the office until I actually reply to some emails. You okay to hold the fort?”
“Better than you’ll be. I’ll knock on your door in an hour to rescue you.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” I grab the mug of cold coffee and head into my office. It’s a mess, it always is. Paperwork isn’t exactly my favorite pastime. Unless it involves the kind in books. But running your own business means a pile of the stuff. And the more you put it off, the more it breeds.
I set my coffee cup down, open my laptop, and stare atmy inbox until the words start to blur. Five minutes in, my brain already wants to escape.
And seriously, I deserve a reward. Out of the 203 unopened emails that were there when I started, there are only 179 left, thanks to the spam I deleted.
So I open up my drawer, deciding one chapter ofThe Hunting of Redwill be my prize.
But the drawer is empty.
I frown. Did I leave the book upstairs? I must have. Damn, I can’t go up there now because Romy’s here, and I’m really trying to look like a responsible business owner, here.
I sigh, push back my chair, and force myself to focus on the screen again. One responsible hour, that’s all I need. Then maybe I can sneak upstairs and grab the book without Romy seeing me.
But the universe clearly has other plans, because that’s when my inbox pings.
There are two new messages.
The first one is from Maya Laurent. She’s a darling of the art crowd. She’s replying to an email I sent her a few days ago, with suggestions of where I’ll be displaying the piece she’s loaned us.
Her response is effusive. She loves my ideas. And I can’t help it, I grin. Because getting one of Maya’s pieces is a real coup. She’s unusual in that she’s not just talented, she also has great social media presence. I know she’ll promote us up the way we need it.
But the smile slips off my face as soon as I see the sender of the second email.
