Page 30 of The Ones We Fight For

“I guess I’m not very vanilla,” Talia reasoned. “I just like the flavor.” She could tell Amala was about to chime in with inappropriate commentary, so she quickly changed the subject and smacked Walker’s knee. “Why do men always take up an unnecessary amount of space?”

“How much space do you need, Your Highness?” Walker joked. He dropped his foot to the floor and scooted to the very far end of the couch, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and fanning her with it.

“Mmm, that’s nice, but aren’t you also supposed to feed me grapes?”

“Fresh out of those. I need to go grocery shopping again.”

“Is that on the roster today?” Amala slumped back in a sofa chair across from Talia and Walker. It was intentionally to force Talia to sit next to Walker, but at least her friend was making good on her promise to alleviate the sexual tension, barring the morning’s episode of forced-proximity bonding and one extremely unnecessary text message.

“Yeah, that and writing a crappy romance novel about a guy who finds his long-lost brother and then falls in love with said brother’s adoptive sister,” Walker grumbled, setting his laptop on the table.

“Sounds… complicated?” Talia peeked at the laptop that Walker had opened to a document with several paragraphs written out. If she didn’t need reading glasses to see it, she would have done her best to sneak-read it in her peripherals.

“Trying to find a way to make the main characters appealing when they go behind the other brother’s back to do it four times in the movie is difficult. It’s all weirdly incestuous, even though it’s technically not.” Walker grimaced, and Talia choked on the coffee she’d just taken a sip of to cover up her sleuthing. She let out a laugh followed by a bunch of throat-clearing to rid the scratchy feeling in her esophagus.

“Honestly, that sounds like something I would be into.” Amala gave an unashamed shrug of her shoulders.

“I’m shocked, truly,” Talia drawled. Walker chuckled as Amala forged ahead.

“So, the books you write, do you have to write the sex scenes, or is it like a fade-to-black scenario?”

“Both.” Walker lifted his foot to cross over his knee again and reassumed his position, casually draping his arm behind Talia. He was so close, she could feel the heat radiating off his body. “It depends on whether they want it to be an adult novel or a young adult novel. It’s not always a romance novel, either. I’m hoping the next one is an action movie or TV show so I can write about explosives.”

“And this one? Adult novel or young adult?” Amala pried.

Talia darted her eyes to Amala, hoping she could read her mind. Worst friendship wing-woman ever. The last thing she needed right now was for Walker to go into any detail about the sex scenes he wrote.

“I have to write at least two of the four steamy scenes that will be included in the book,” Walker answered. “The other two will get written by a female author from the firm, and then they’ll either use both or ask one of us to match the other person’s writing style. But they’re normally pretty mild. The scenes, I mean. I don’t have to get super specific or crazy with it.”

“And your version of crazy is…?” Amala pressed on. Meanwhile, Talia inwardly cursed herself for bringing her along. Why did she think it would be a good idea? Instead of dousing the flames of sexual tension with water, Amala had taken it upon herself to stoke them—dumping gasoline on an already out-of-control fire.

“Um… things I have not done? Language that I don’t use?” Walker said, awkwardly. There was a split second where he glanced over at Talia during his response. Like doing her would be one of those crazy things.

Amala rolled her hands over one another. “Like…?”

“Are you going to make me say it?” Walker blushed, a shade Talia had only seen on his face once before when he was shirtless and had accidentally backed into her.

“No, you don’t have to,” Talia cut in. “Amala, do you always have to be so… direct? I am one hundred percent sure it is not normal to ask someone what they’ve done in bed.”

“I’m not asking what he’s done in bed. I don’t want to know that. I want to know his writing process and what makes something too much.”

Walker opened and closed his mouth a few times before responding. “The thing about these novels is, I’m a ghostwriter, which means that my publishing house takes credit for everything and I don’t have to worry about people reading it and knowing it’s me who wrote it. If I wanted to, I could write a bondage scene, and no one would ever know. It’s the perfect cover, really. Just like how Talia’s book has the perfect cover ‘cause it doesn’t give away the fact that there are like five sex scenes in it.”

He reached over Talia to grab the book from her bag, and she turned beet red.

“You’ve… read this book?” Talia gaped at him.

“Not exactly…” Walker set Contracted Love down on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch cushions. Amala promptly burst into laughter. Walker crossed his arms over his chest, and Talia looked back and forth between him and Amala, missing whatever the punchline was.

“What? How do you know—?”

“Tal, please tell me that book’s based on a terrible rom-com like I think it is.” The sparkle of amusement danced behind Amala’s eyes.

It hit Talia like a tidal wave to the face. Snapping her attention over to Walker, she adamantly shook her head.

“No. I refuse to believe you wrote this.”

“Ghostwrote,” Walker corrected, as if that made a single difference.

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