Page 73 of Driven Daddy

I was on the couch scribbling in a notebook she’d given me. There were a few fundamental differences between my kind of writing and hers. Namely, that my storytelling was mostly image-based and far less actual words than a full-length novel.

And the building of a story was also different.

She stood in front of me with a bowl. “Want?”

I was also learning that Rita required food at all times. Especially of the snack variety. I peered in to find freshly popped popcorn littered with chocolate pieces.

Bruce scrambled up from his nap by the window and lumbered over for a treat.

I grabbed a handful and tossed one in my mouth, finding one without chocolate for our resident moose. “I think I need more than popcorn.”

He snapped a kernel out of the air, then plopped his butt in front of us to wait for more.

Rita tossed one to Bruce with a soft smile, then she ruffled his fur. “Then you can go home and make yourself dinner.”

“How about I make us dinner?”

She dropped on the couch beside me, crossing her legs under her with the bowl in the center. She munched thoughtfully. “Not sure I want you in my space that long. Depends on the food.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “I work alone. I like being alone.”

I wasn’t entirely sure she believed that, or if she needed to keep saying it to believe it.

“I make a mean shrimp scampi.”

Her hand paused in the bowl. “I’m listening.”

I laughed. “It’s pretty impressive if I do say so myself. Larsen is a foodie and keeps dragging me to cooking classes.”

Bruce laid his massive head on her knee, hoping for more. She leaned back, ignoring the beseeching brown gaze. “What’s the deal with you two? I know you’re not a couple. Unless you like boys and girls, which is fine by me.”

“Appreciate the open-mindedness, Duchess.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t bother correcting me on the nickname. At least we were making progress there.

“Best friend since college. He knows all the dirty secrets, helped me hide the skeletons, and jumped on board when I decided to expand from a one-man show to a full-fledged publishing house.”

“How many people are on the roster?” She settled back into the cushions of the large sectional.

“We’re pretty small at the moment.” Thank God. The more people I had to juggle, the more ulcers I’d have going. “Ryan, whom you met at the signing—she’s the biggest breakout artist I’ve got. Of course, me, which was how I could afford to do this.”

“What made you want to do your own publishing house? Couldn’t you just outsource that?”

“No one wanted to work with me.”

She chewed thoughtfully. “I mean, I get that you have a smart-ass mouth on you, Penn, but you’re a famous brand. I’d think people would jump at the chance to work with you.”

“I wish it worked that way.”

She shrugged and popped a chocolate piece in her mouth. “I mean, that’s how we got our print deal. They came looking for us. Mostly because we’d done the work already and had the readership. You obviously have the readership, and a zealous one at that.”

Muscles I hadn’t known that were tight in the back of my neck loosened at her words. “I do. But when I worked for The Major Label Who Shall Not Be Named, I found out that I was actually making one tenth of what I was worth. When I pushed back on my contract, which was up for renewal, they figured I’d cave. Who the hell wants to do all the backend work for my job?”

“You, I take it?”

“Impulsively, yes. I probably should have gone looking for a better agent. They figured making an action figure for me would quiet me down—it did not.”

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