Page 6 of Making the Call
“Um…” I cover my mouth as I finish chewing. “This is delicious. Thank you.” There’s the perfect combination of eggs, cheese, bacon, and fresh mushrooms.Holy shit. The man can cook.
“Glad you like it.”
“So, do you live on the island full-time or are you just here for vacation?” I can’t help but ask. This home is beautiful, and it’s obviously well cared for. There’s no way he’s only here for a vacation.
“I try to get out here as often as I can, but I have a loft in Tacoma as well,” he admits. “What about you, are you a full-time resident?”
“I’ll be out here as much as I can for the next year or so. I have some commitments off the island, but I hope to consider this home when I’m not traveling for those.” Other than the signings I’ve committed to attend around the country, I intend to get as much writing done as I can. Being at my family’s cabin will limit my distractions and hopefully keep me meeting my deadlines.
“Which part of the island are you staying?” Luke asks after he finishes his last bite of food.
“The east end of Florence Lake. It won’t take long to get there.”
“Ha. Nothing on this island takes long to get to,” Luke teases.
“You’re right about that. I’ve spent many summers out here as a kid and now that I live here full-time, I realize just how small the island is.”
“You sound like you’re not enjoying it,” Luke surmises.
I shake my head, he has it all wrong. “No! Not at all. I love it here. It’s why when my grandparents decided to stay in town full-time, I jumped at the chance to stay at their home here on the island. Most of my brothers are still in school, and Derek wasn’t interested. Besides, this is just the place I need for limited distractions.”
“Distractions?” Luke prompts.
“Well, as I started to tell you before, I’m on a tight deadline.” I flex my hands open and shut. It shouldn’t take too long to be back to normal. Nancy shouldn’t get her panties in too much of a twist if I take a day or so off. Being the ambitious person I am, I have a book releasing every eight to twelve weeks for the next year. Thankfully, I already have the next four written, and they’re off to the editors, but it still puts a lot of pressure on me to perform. I don’t want to disappoint my readers.
“Oh,” he hesitates for a moment then asks, “you mentioned your editor earlier, what do you write?”
Here it is, the one question that will either get me looks of admiration, or like I’ve lost my mind. Win or lose, I own it. I love my job and wouldn’t have it any other way. “Contemporary romance.” I hold my breath as I scrutinize his response.
“So, how long have you been writing?”Huh, that’s not what I was expecting.His face looks as if he’s genuinely interested.
I blurt out, “All my life,” before I can fully answer the question he’s probably asking. I add, “Well, I’ve only been published for the past four years.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” Once again, his response is genuine. Most guys I meet don’t know how to respond when I tell them what I do for a living. They either get flirty and offer to enact any romance scene I write, or they scoff and act like I don’t have a real job.
“Thanks,” I say suddenly, feeling a bit shy. “I’m just lucky to get to do something I love.”
A huge grin spreads across his face. “I can completely relate to that. I just started my dream job as well.”
“It’s a lot of pressure to keep things up,” I admit for the first time to anyone.
“Well, you must be pretty good if you’re able to make a living from it,” he offers.
“Well, since I self-publish, I cover the costs of publishing and have enough to live on afterward, so I can’t complain.” It’s true. I’ve done well for myself over the past few years. From the start, I made a point to go wide and market myself on all platforms; making the top sellers list a few times hasn’t hurt either.
His eyebrows knit together slightly, and he contemplates something. “Would I know any of your work?”
“Do you read romance?” I ask, once again caught off guard by his question. This is something I usually get from women, not men.Not that I’m gender typing.
“Uh… Can’t say I’ve read much.” He looks a little disappointed to admit, then if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks turn a shade darker. “I’ve… Uh… Only read what I had to in college and watched a few movies… that were once books.”
I let out a sound that’s a cross between a sigh and a snort.I know, very unbecoming of me.“Well, then it’s safe to say you likely haven’t read my work. I haven’t been around long enough to be considered a classic, and I’m certainly not famous enough to have a book made into a movie. An audio version, yes, but nothing on the big screen. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer for that, but don’t hold your breath. It may never happen.”
He suddenly stiffens. “It’s not that I don’t read.” He leans forward in his seat to make sure he has my attention. “I read all the time, when I’m not reviewing film, it’s how I spend most of my flights, actually.”
“So… You’re more of a movie buff, I get it. It’s totally acceptable even.” I try to tease at the end, but I’m not sure if it’s received as I intend.Crap. I didn’t mean to offend him by saying he didn’t read.
“I… I… Just usually read mysteries or suspense… Even quite a bit of biographies.” He scrunches up his nose and pulls a face. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen on a man, as sexy as him, do. I can tell he’s about to deliver me news I might not like to hear.God, what’s he going to tell me next?“Well, I can’t say I actually read a lot of romance. It’s not really my thing… You know…” He trails off and lets me come to my own conclusion.
