Page 7 of The Story of Us
Nate swallowed a yawn. After spending half the night following a plot tangent down a rabbit hole that went nowhere, he wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.
Garrett’s loud sigh announced his displeasure.
“Sorry. Who?”
“This is good news. A little enthusiasm would be appreciated.”
Nate couldn’t resist poking the bear. “So would having this conversation in three hours.”
Garrett crossed his arms, and Nate’s mouth curled into a smile. “Alright. I’m sorry. Was it that editor you’ve been talking about? The one who specialises in memoirs?” Not that Nate had any interest in writing his life story. Firstly, it felt way too presumptuous to do that at only twenty-nine years old and secondly, counterintuitive when he was trying to fade into the background these days.
“Nope. It was”—Garrett paused for dramatic effect—“Jemima Jenkins!”
Nate had never been comfortable with the celebrity associated with his former life as a professional athlete, but he’d met plenty of famous people over the years. Never anyone like Jemima Jenkins, though. She was beloved worldwide for her self-titled talk show which had run for several decades before she ended it to focus on developing her own production company. She was the kind of famous that meant it felt disrespectful to only refer to her by only her first name. Jemima Jenkins was a full-name kind of lady.
When Nate didn’t respond, Garrett groaned. “Please tell me you know who Jemima Jenkins is, Mountain Man?”
Nate stood and retrieved his now full cup of black coffee. “I do.”
“She’s looking for a new project, and we agreed yourSmoky Mountain Killersbooks would be perfect.”
Nate returned to his stool and lifted his coffee to his mouth, blowing the steam away. “Perfect for what?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
“A television adaptation! Can you imagine? This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
‘We’ wasn’t the right word to use there. “I’ve told you before?—”
“I know. You don’t care about accolades. You write for your readers and yourself. It’s all very magnanimous. ButIcare about them. Think of it as a way to take your career to the next level. Rumour has it she’s about to launch her own publishing house as well. Do you need a sports metaphor? This is a Super Bowl-winning touchdown.”
Nate sipped his coffee. Garrett was right; this was a huge opportunity and something they’d only ever briefly discussed before. With his SMK series rapidly approaching the end, itwouldbe a new challenge and a way to hopefully reach a whole new swag of readers.
“But we need to move fast while it’s fresh in her mind. Send me everything you’ve drafted for the final book. I told Jemima we’d have a proposal to her within the next two weeks.”
Nate almost dropped his coffee cup. “But … we were working towards a late October deadline for the editor.” He hadn’t planned on sending anything to Garrett for another month at least, which was handy considering he hadn’t figured out how to weave all the plot threads together one last time. The small-town series that revolved around a sheriff’s office in Tennessee had redefined Nate’s professional career, and it deserved the perfect ending. If the universe could tell him what that was sometime soon, that would be really handy.
“Things change. We need to hustle. She loved the first three books, was begging for an advanced copy of the fourth which I’ve already given her and is desperate to know how it all ends.”
Jemima Jenkins could join the queue. “Uh, I don’t think it’s possible.”
Garrett scoffed. “There’s the enthusiasm I was looking for. It doesn’t matter if it’s rough.”
An itch crawled across Nate’s chest, followed by a rush of heat. “Did you not hear me?”
“I’m choosing to ignore your attempt at self-sabotage. Send me what you’ve got, and I’ll have a read.”
“It’s not ready. It doesn’t have an ending.” Nate sipped his coffee, the extra bitter flavour making him wince.
“You do this every time. Stop obsessing over every little detail; even an outline is fine. If you don’t send it to me, I’ll get on a plane.”
Damn it. Garrett would do it too. “Give me a few days to clean it up,” Nate grumbled.
“That’s more like it. We’ll talk Monday.”
Phew. The time difference would buy him some extra time.
“Your Monday. Not mine,” Garrett clarified.
Great.“I’ll see what I can do.”
