Page 9 of Role Play
“It’s my cookie,” she mutters weakly.
Her dad quirks his eyebrows at me. That’s hot-dad speak for, “Get on with it.” Reluctantly, I squat back down, like I’m obeying my executioner’s command.Oh, she’s going to be so upset.Once me and the little girl are eye level, I begin, “So, listen, sweetie, I’m sorry, I, um… I should’ve asked your dad first?—”
“I’m just messing with you. Please get up.” His eyes are in big, wide circles, and his smile is in full force. I have never wanted to slap a stranger so much in my life. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” His breathy chuckles aren’t helping my disposition.
“You’re an asshole,” I bite out as I rise to my feet. Immediately, I cringe, remembering his daughter can hear us. “Shit. I didn’t mean to curse.I mean shoot.” I clasp both hands over my mouth. My entire neck is hot as lava.
“It’s fine,” he says, still smirking, observing me intensely with his stupid smoldering gaze. “She’s with her mom most of the time, who cusses like a sailor.” He smooths his hand affectionately over the top of his daughter’s hair. “She knows what she’s not allowed to say.”
A glint of sunlight from the café door opening catches my eye, nearly blinding me. I look up to see Dane Spellman in a sophisticated, light gray suit, then instinctively check my phone. There are no emails, missed calls, or text messages, and the time reads 1:20 p.m.
Twenty minutes late for a meeting with no heads-up.So fucking rude.But at least he showed.
Dane spots me, holds up his palm and gestures to a few sofa chairs in the back of the café. It’s my signal to join him. “As much as I’d like to continue this uncomfortable exchange, that’s my meeting.” I give the innocent little girl a scrunchy-face smile, then narrow my eyes at hot dad. “Has anyone ever told you you’re funny?”
His expression turns quizzical. “Not particularly.”
“Good,” I snap. “Then you know no one’s lying to you.”
I didn’t mean to make him laugh again, but the soft rumble of his chuckle is all I hear as I collect my table number from the counter and turn toward Dane.
“Wait,” hot dad calls out as he nudges his daughter forward. “Dakota, say thank you to the nice lady for sharing with you.”
“Thank you,” she parrots absentmindedly, still staring at the cookie like it’s the new love of her life.
“You’re welcome. That’s the best cookie in the whole world. Enjoy.” I step around hot dad, but catch his stare one more time. His honey-brown eyes cause my heart to jolt, jumping two whole beats. I can’t help but glance at his ringless finger again.If Mom were here, she’d probably want to grab his hand and tattoo my phone number on it permanently.
He really is the perfect specimen.
But it’s the wrong place, wrong time. There’s only one man on my mind at the moment, and he’s in a gray suit, holding my entire future in his hands. Nothing, and I meannothingis going to distract me from what I’m sure is going to be the best day of my life. Whatever offer of representation Dane Spellman is about to make, the answer is a resoundinghell yes.
chapter 3
Sora
Dane Spellman is not an ideal book boyfriend. In fact, if I’m being honest, he has antagonist energy. I’ve never seen a man with resting bitch face, but lo and behold—it’s possible. I’m staring right at it.
“So”—I take a pretend sip from my empty coffee mug, out of sheer discomfort—“did you have a chance to check out the chapters I sent you? And please know, I’m not one of those authors who is too proud to take feedback. I personally feel like the pacing could use direction, but I’m particularly fond of?—”
Dane interrupts me by holding up his hand. “Just take a deep breath, honey. I can tell you’re nervous.”
Honey?Lovely. Terms of endearment, laced with condescension. “More excited than nervous. I really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to meet with me. I can’t imagine the number of queries you receive.”
He levels a stare at me, a cruel smirk curling at the corner of his thin lips. “Thousands.”
“Wow.”
His smile turns a little sinister. “Most of them don’t make it past my assistant’s spam folder, though.”
I press my lips together, trying to contain my zealousness, but I can’t help it—the need for validation wins out against my better judgment. “May I ask, what made you finally open my email?”
Dane runs his hands through his flowy blond hair and grimaces. “Honestly? I didn’t. One of my assistants did and passed it along to a junior agent on the team.”
It’s a sucker punch right to my heart, but I force myself to breathe in steady inhales and exhales. Don’t be a child, Sora. This is the number one agent in the game. So, Dane didn’t read your work, his junior agent did. Deal with it. You’re here, aren’t you? Thousands of authors want to be here. Be grateful.
I tuck my hair back behind my ears. “Dare I ask what your junior editor thought?”
He shrugs. “She said it was fine.”
