Page 40 of Wolfish Player
Her eyes light up and I make my way out of the room.
I hit the down button for the elevator, ready to head to the parking garage and drive to Heather, but when the doors glide open, her editorial team is onboard.
“We were coming here to look for you!” The lead squeals. “Can we have a few minutes of your time to discussWildwoodwith you, please?”
I oblige, and “a few minutes” turns into a couple of hours, and before I know it, it’s midnight and instead of opening my car door, I’m devouring Heather’s completed book instead.
THE AUTHOR
HEATHER
The upcoming book tour for author Magnolia Walton is nothing short of amazing. And I’m not just saying that because I was involved; the creative team truly outdid themselves.
It’s my first day back at work, and I couldn’t be happier that it’s to help support a self-published book I read years ago. A book that’s finally getting the mainstream launch it deserves.
I also couldn’t be happier that I haven’t seen Adrian at all since stepping into this building.
Hopefully I can make it through the entire day…
“Can you adjust the floral chains just a bit more?” I ask one of the interns. “I love the way they’re hanging from the ceiling, but they need to be a bit higher so they won’t hit any guests on the head.”
“On it. Should I make this note for the travel team when they decorate the bookstores?”
“Absolutely.” I nod and he rushes away.
“So glad to see you’re back.” Theresa walks up to me, handing me a coffee. “You’ve been missed a lot.”
“I missed you too, Theresa,” I say. “I burned all my off days, so you don’t have to worry about me going missing again.”
“I doubt that…” She mutters, but then she sighs. “I’m sorry my brother was an asshole to you. I didn’t know you two were dating.”
“We weren’t dating,” I say.It was just sex…
“Well, you know.” She clears her throat. “I hope you won’t take your hatred of him out on me for lunch dates and coffee chats. It was nice having a reader friend here.”
“Wait a minute. You’re his sister?”
“Nope.” She makes an erasing gesture with her hands. “I am not related to Adrian Wolfson at all. Who said that?”
I laugh at her terrible acting. “I won’t take it out on you. Want to buddy read that Preston thriller this week?”
“I was about to beg you to!” She smiles. “I’ll come by your office with a copy later.”
Before I ask her if my transfer request has been approved, she pulls out her cell phone and holds it against her ear.
“This is Theresa at Wolfson,” she says. “Um-hmmm. Be there in five!” She waves at me before rushing away.
Sighing, I pick up a stack of custom canvas bags and begin stuffing them with treats for the readers for the rest of the morning.
Later that afternoon,I head upstairs to my “office” to check on the day’s newest manuscripts.
As I’m organizing them by genre, my heart skips a beat as the elevator pings down the hall.
Without looking up, I can feel Adrian walking my way.
“Good afternoon, Miss Barrett.” His deep voice is directly behind me.
“Mr. Wolfson.”
