Page 18 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

I lead him into my living room, and he takes a seat on my couch. I grab my tablet from my bedroom, and when I return, he’s glancing around at my decor he missed when we fumbled through with the bookshelf.

“You haven’t seen the full autumn glory yet, have you?”

His eyebrows hitch up as he scans the room. “It might be even more glory than last year.”

My living room looks like it should be on a fall candle label—cozy throw blankets, rich plaids in browns and reds, natural wreaths dotted with leaves faux and real. My orange Pyrex casserole dishes sit out on the kitchen counter next to a giant ceramic walnut cookie jar. And everything smells like apples and cinnamon from the secret surprise I baked earlier.

“You know me. I don’t do understated.”

I flop down next to him on the couch and pull up the cover I’m almost ready to send to the author for approval. It shows a couple holding hands on a gingham blanket next to a lakeside. I put a lot of detail into this one and probably spent more time perfecting the trees and the braid in her hair than I should have. But illustrating soothes me almost as well as hugging Miles does.

Dealing with authors doesn’t always have the same result, but most of my clients are great.

“Your covers get better and better.” He’s carefully holding the tablet as though he could break it, his eyes roving over the illustration to take in every last blade of grass and blanket tassel. “I’m in awe of your talent.”

My fingers brush his as I pull the tablet from him. “Says the guy who writes whole books.”

He doesn’t say anything because why would he? He’d never respond with, “Yeah, I’m pretty great, aren’t I?” Even though he is. His brain is full of spaceships and pirates and renegades and the most wonderful space opera ever.

I set the tablet aside and take a deep breath. I’ve been as patient for as long as I possibly can in one afternoon. We had a job to do earlier, but now I can’t avoid the elephant trampling around in the room.

“I’m trying to be normal about this, Miles, but…you’re torturing me.”

His eyebrows twitch in the center, drawing closer like they’re seeking comfort in each other. He swallows hard. “I am?”

“You let Captain Aster get kidnapped?” I unleash the reader beast, practically launching myself at him, even though I can’t get much closer. “Kidnapped! And his old commander surrendered to try to rescue him and threw himself in front of blaster fire and itdidn’t even work? Do you want to give me a heart attack?”

He looks unaccountably pleased with himself for putting one of my favorite characters ever into mortal peril. “So you’re enjoying the book?”

“I’m miserable. I’ve had trouble sleeping. I can’t think about anything else.ObviouslyI’m enjoying the book.”

A huge grin breaks across his face. “Glad to hear I’ve got your approval.”

“Five-star review to come.” My enthusiasm fades somewhat. “But I’m getting nervous you’re going to kill off Captain Aster as a full-circle, ‘mercenary sacrifices himself for the greater good’ plot point. And I do not endorse that. He needs to retire and live happily ever after with his second in command, even though it’s going to take him another ten years to admit he loves her.”

His expression doesn’t change. “No spoilers.”

“Please let him at least kiss his second. Just once, softly, before he dies saving his crew from an exploding nebula.”

Laughter rumbles through him. “Maybe you should write the books. You’re full of ideas.”

“Nah. I just know my tropes. Want to stay for dinner?”

“Sure.”

I drag myself off the couch and head for the kitchen. “How about ramen?”

“Sounds great. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Magnolia Ridge isn’t exactly a hotbed of vegetarian diningoptions, so when we discovered we both avoid eating meat, we immediately banded together. We share recipes and swap reviews of various faux meats, often making meals together when we’re hanging out. With me in charge of the broth and Miles on veggie duty, we get the ramen whipped up in no time.

We take our bowls to my table and get comfortable. The miso soup and ramen are exactly what I needed on this cloudy fall day. It’s not reallyfallin central Texas yet, and most days still creep into the mid-eighties, but I’ll take it. We talk over dinner—a small thing really, but some days it feels like a gift.

Sam lived with me for a few months after he came back to town two years ago. Since he moved out to be with Harper, it’s easy to forget just how comforting it can be to have someone else in the apartment with me. I don’t mind my own company, but there’s such a thing as getting bored with yourself.

“I read that getting nominated for an Andromeda Award can boost a book ontoThe New York TimesBestseller list.” I try to sound casual, but I’m nothing close. Never am.

He blinks at me over his soup. “You’ve been doing a lot of research lately.”

---