Page 17 of Formula Fling

She blinks in surprise, perhaps at my blunt question, but nods. “Yeah… three months ago from cancer.”

Ouch. I didn’t figure it would be that recent. “I’m sorry. Sounds like you two were close.”

“The closest,” she whispers, a fond smile playing at her… very full lips. “He was always supportive of my writing, even when I thought I’d never make it. He had these… weird sayings, you know? Like, he’d try to pass off wisdom, but they never really made sense.”

I grin at her. “Yeah? Give me an example.”

Posey’s eyes shine with memories. “Let’s see… he’d often say, ‘You can’t climb a tree with a spoon, but you’ve got to give it a good stir.’”

A bark of laughter erupts. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Posey’s laughing too. “It’s basically advice about perseverance and trying new angles if something doesn’t work. And I only know that because he had to explain it to me. He always had to explain it but once he did, it made sense.”

“Brilliant.” I chuckle with a shake of my head. “And yeah… it does make sense now that you say it. Sounds to me like he would have totally supported this little charade you have going on.”

That makes Posey laugh and fuck… it’s really pretty. Sweet and lilting. “Yeah, he would have totally pushed me to do this.” Her eyes sparkle. “But to get back to your original question about how I became an author, as a voracious reader, I was curious to see if I could translate that into writing my own stories. I definitely have a deep creative side, so I worked by day and wrote at night, after work,” she explains. “I self-published my first story, and it took a while, but after a few books, I started building a fan base and the business just grew from there. I was able to quit my floral designing job after about a year as an author.”

I’m nosey and not afraid to ask impertinent questions. “I’m guessing you make more as an author than you did creating pretty flower arrangements, but can you make a good living that way?”

For the first time, I see Posey’s confidence shine through. I’d dare say she almost looks smug. “I made just over a hundred thousand dollars last year from my books and I’m on track to surpass that this year.”

I do some quick math and realize that’s over seventy-five thousand pounds, which is nothing to sneeze at. I nearly choke on my noodles. “You’re joking.”

She blushes but shakes her head. “No joke. It’s taken three years of hard work, but… yeah, it’s a good living.”

Now I’m supremely impressed. I had no idea there was that kind of money in writing. “That’s bloody brilliant.”

Posey blushes again, but this time it’s a pretty pink that serves to highlight her smooth, porcelain skin. She laughs lightly, and I notice it’s the first time she seems comfortable around me. “It’s not easy, but I love it. Writing gives me thefreedom to create worlds and relationships where anything is possible.” Her eyes go soft and dreamy. “Romance is about love—about people overcoming obstacles to be together. The point is the connection between two people. There’s always a happy ending. That’s kind of the rule.” She pauses, ducks her head. “And now I’m blabbing.”

Admittedly, she’s kind of cute when she blabs. I can’t help but poke a little. “Happy endings, eh? You really believe in that stuff?”

Posey looks down at her sandwich, shrugging. “I don’t know. I write it, but… I’m not sure if it exists in real life.”

I pause, considering that. I never gave much thought to romance, but I find it fascinating that a romance author might not actually believe in it. “You’ve never experienced it yourself?”

“No,” she admits with a wry smile. “Not really.”

“Same here,” I say, rapping my knuckles against my chest. “I suppose it takes commitment that I just don’t have time for.”

“I can see how busy you are and you travel so much. I think it would be very hard to have a relationship.”

“I suppose if you want it bad enough, you make it work. There are a few blokes in FI who are married.” I pause a moment to shove another bite of noodles in my mouth and she takes a dainty bite of her sandwich. I swallow and sip from my water. “Where are you from? I haven’t traveled extensively in the States but you definitely have a pronounced accent.”

“North Carolina,” she says with a laugh. “A little town you’ve probably never heard of, and yes, we all talk like this.”

I find it charming. “You have any other family back there?”

“Sadly, no. An uncle and two cousins in Virginia, but that’s it.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “All right, enough about you since I’m the one you’re writing about. What do you want to know about me?”

I get an eye roll and she doesn’t answer right away, feigning indifference. She’s here to learn and me opening up like that will be too good of an opportunity for her to pass up.

Finally, she asks, “What about your family?”

“Yeah, my family’s pretty tight-knit. Mum used to be a fashion designer—proper elegant and all that—but now she runs a few charities. Always keeping busy, you know? Dad’s a corporate lawyer. Serious bloke, a real workaholic. He’s proud of what I do, but he’s not too keen on the lifestyle that comes with it. Thinks I should focus more on the racing, less on the partying.” A smile tugs at my lips. “Then there’s my sister, Claire. She’s the smart one—human rights lawyer living in Geneva. Always been the golden child, really. She’s brilliant but still keeps tabs on me. Tries to keep me out of trouble from halfway across Europe.” I wink at Posey and she blushes again. “Doesn’t always work, though.”

“You get in a lot of trouble?” she asks.

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