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“Will!” she gushed as she wrapped her sun-bronzed arms around his neck and her endlessly long legs around his waist. “I’msosorry I’m late!” Surprisingly, she had a British accent, too. “I’ve got the car parked right outside. Are you ready? You didn’t check any bags, did you?”

“Uh, no. No, Chloe, I didn’t.” He attempted to peel the girl off him, looking, oddly enough, kind of irritated to see her. Which was weird, since most men I know don’t mind when beautiful blond girls wearing very little show up at airports to throw their arms around them.

“Great!” Chloe, her sandaled feet back on the ground, reached for the gigantic backpack he’d let fall to the terminal floor. It so figured that Will Price would let a tiny slip of a girl like that carry his bag. What was she, anyway, his assistant? Girlfriend? I guess Cassidy was wrong, and while hetero, Will wasn’t single after all.

Although I noted with cynical interest that they did not kiss hello, even though he’d been away long enough to grow a partial beard. He’d probably been warned by his media consultants not to kiss any of his romantic partners in front of fans. It would spoil their dreams that he was available.

“Come on,” Chloe said, tugging on his arm. “I’m double-parked. We’ve got to go.”

“Oh.” He threw me one last look. “Er, thanks.” To the girls, who were already raking Chloe curiously with their gazes,wondering who she was and why she was taking their darling Will away from them, he said, “Sorry, that’s got to be it for now. My ride’s here. I’ll see you at the festival, though, right?”

The girls cried, “Awwwww,” in disappointment, but quickly recovered and began waving enthusiastically at their literary idol. “Bye, Will!” “See you tomorrow!” “I’m going to buy tons of copies ofThe Momentfor you to sign for all my friends!”

Then a very uncomfortable-looking Will was swept from the terminal by the sweet, lovely Chloe.

What wasthatabout? Why washefeeling uncomfortable? He hadn’t felt uncomfortable bad-mouthing my writing. Why should he feel uncomfortable now, seeing me in an airport holding a whiteboard with his name on it?

“Was that him?”

I turned and saw a familiar figure at my side.

“Oh, hi, Garrett.” In addition to his fishing pole and ukulele, Garrett was carrying a giant duffel bag. Unlike me, he didn’t seem to suffer from lost-checked-bag syndrome. “Was that who?”

“Will Price. I didn’t thinkhe’dbe riding on the author bus with us.”

I turned to stare at him. “What do you meanus?”

He pointed to the name beneath Will’s on the whiteboard I was holding—the name I hadn’t noticed because I’d been too wrapped up in my loathing of Will Price. “That’s me.”

Chapter Four

His full name was Garrett Newcombe.

“I write and illustrate graphic novels for young adults,” he said. “Dark Magic School? You’ve probably never heard of it. Or me.”

Of course I’d heard of him.Dark Magic Schoolwas at the top of the children’s bestseller list every week. Gabriella, my super’s daughter, was bonkers for it. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized Garrett from the author photo on the backs of her books.

In my own defense, however, the goatee had thrown me. It was new.

“Oh, sure,” I said, like I’d known all along who he was. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same. Oh, hold on. You’ve got a little something in your—” He reached out as if to touch my ear. I ducked instinctively since I’ve never been a fan of strange men touching me. But it was too late.

“Ah, got it.” Smiling, Garrett held up a shiny silver coin that he’d pretended to pull out of my ear.

Oh, yuck. He wrote books about magicandhe was a magician? No, thank you. I may have written books about talking cats, but that didn’t mean I believed in, much less liked, magic. Cats actuallycancommunicate. My own, Miss Kitty, tells me exactly what she wants on a regular basis, quite vocally, usually at seven in the morning.

Magic, however much we might want to believe in it, is completely made up. Miracles don’t happen. People get sick and often die, and the only thing that can stop that is science. Look at what had happened to my mom.

But since I was going to be stuck with this guy for the weekend, I forced a smile. “Ha-ha.”

“Here.” He shoved the coin at me. “You can keep it.”

“No, thanks.”

“No, really. It’s aDark Magic Schoolnumber eleven commemorative guild piece.”

“That’s okay. Save it for one of your fans.”