Page 24 of First Love, Second Draft

He scratched the briar patch growing all over his jawline, making anmmmsound. She knew that sound.

“What? Idohave it under control. This isn’t even the right draft.” She motioned to the stack. “This is from a much earlier draft.” Like from a whole twenty-four hours ago. “I’ve made a lot of revisions since then.” In her mind. Not exactly on paper. “The story is taking on a whole new shape now.” A big sort of blobby shape.

He leaned against the counter, continuing to run his knuckles over his jaw, which Gracie knew from their years of marriage meant the same thing as his littlemmmsound. “So you’ve fixed that whole scene in the middle then?”

“Of course. Probably. What scene in the middle?” If this were anybody but her ex-husband, she’d be opening a notebook and uncapping a pen, ready to scribble down any scrap of advice she could get on this story. Because good golly, she needed help. So much help.

“The scene where the guy, whom I can only assume is supposed to be the hero of the story since he has broad shoulders and smells like sandalwood, accomplishes a physically impossible feat that no reader in their right mind would ever buy?”

And see, this is exactly why she hadn’t pulled out a real notebook to take advice from her ex-husband. She’d already be slamming the notebook shut and recapping her pen. “What’s wrong with sandalwood?” She’d get to the supposedly impossible feat in a minute.

“Nothing’s wrong with sandalwood. I just don’t understand why every guy in every romance novel always has to smell like it.”

“Because you’ve read every romance novel, have you?”

“I’ve read every one of yours.”

Gracie opened her mouth, ready to toss out a retort. Then closedher mouth, not sure she had one to make. “My men all smell like sandalwood?”

“Every last one.”

That wasn’t true, was it? It might be true. “Fine. I’ll make him smell like... I don’t know. Lemons. But back to the issue of the scene. Are you thinking a guy can’t lift a woman up onto a huge horse that easily?” Because honestly, Gracie had a few doubts about it as well.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, probably not. But that wasn’t the scene I was talking about. I’m talking about the scene right after that one. Where they’re back at the house looking at the stars.”

“Back at the house... You mean the porch step scene? When they kiss? What’s wrong with that scene?” That was probably the only scene in her entire book she wouldn’t have to fix. The one scene that held anything remotely close to zing.

“There’s no way they would kiss like that,” Noah said. “It’s not believable.”

“Because they don’t like each other? They actually do. That’s how the whole enemies-to-lovers trope works. Plus these characters in particular have tons of history together, because this is also a second-chance romance story.” Or it would be. Once she fixed everything. “I know it seems like they’ve just met, but really—”

“I’m not talking about the motivation behind their kiss.” Noah grabbed the maple syrup off the counter and plopped it in front of her. “Good grief, they can kiss the first time they meet as far as I’m concerned.”

“Then what’s the problem? They’ve certainly got chemistry.” Or they certainly would. Once she fixed everything.

“The chemistry isn’t the problem either.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, her voice raising as she leaned forward over her plate.

“The problem,” he said, his voice matching hers in volume as he palmed the table and leaned toward her, “is logistics.”

“Logistics?” She might be shouting.

“Logistics.” He was definitely shouting.

Gracie took a deep breath. Noah did as well. Perhaps because they both realized certain words don’t require being said at top volume. Words likelogistics.

As soon as Gracie believed she was ready to speak at normal conversation level again, she said, “I’m sorry, but what does logistics have to do with a kiss?”

The way he stared at her, she may as well have said,I’m sorry, but what does pitching have to do with baseball?

“Everything, babe. Everything.” Before she could scold him for calling herbabe, he rushed on. “Think about it. If Mr. Broad Shoulders is sitting two entire porch steps above Miss Horse Hater, how’s he able to kiss her with all the... you know.” He moved his hands around as if he were locking someone in a passionate embrace.“Logistics.”

“He lifts her onto his lap. That’s not logistics. That’s common sense.”

“I thought she’d lost the use of her legs at this point. Like in that whatever movie you kept referencing at the beginning of the story. Something about an affair?”

“An Affair to Remember.Yes. My heroine gets injured after she first knew the hero, and now she can’t use her legs. So what?”

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