Page 48 of Reckless Roses
Someone in line behind him clears their throat, and I quickly grab the book, scribbling down the first personalization that comes to mind:
For: Asshole
xoxo,
I add my Violet Rose signature and slide it back, knowing he’ll probably toss it in the trash on his way out. “As in-character as it is for you to show up at one of my signings and expect my undivided attention, I’m here for my readers. I don’t have time to do this right now.”
Zach’s expression turns crestfallen. “I just wanted to stop by and see you in action. I think it’s cool to see how loved you are, Ele—Violet.” He takes the signed book, clutching it to his chest. “Do you think you could find some time for us to talk?”
I glance around the bookstore, eyeing the parking lot beyond its doors. “This signing is done in an hour.” I nod toward the sports bar across the street. “If you wait for me there, I’ll stop by before I head home.”
He smiles hopefully. “Should I have a Dirty Shirley ready for you?”
“I hold zero embarrassment for my alcoholic beverages of choice, Zachary,” I mutter, turning to the reader behind him in line. He laughs as he strolls away, and because some old habits are impossible to kill, I can’t stop the way my lips tilt up at the sound.
An hour and a half later—because I’m a liar and wanted to see if he’d actually wait—I stroll into a building labeledSharkiesexpecting it to be void of childhood loves.
Instead, I’m greeted by the sight of Zach sitting at the bar, worn boots propped up on the stool, and my dark, taboo mafia romance book in his hand. He’s so focused on the pages, he doesn’t notice when I sit down next to him.
“Have you fallen in love with Dimitri yet?” I ask, referencing my main male character.
Zach’s head snaps up, a surprised smile on his face. “I thought you bailed, but I was enjoying it so much, I figured I’d hang out for a while just in case.” He shuts the book and slides my drink toward me. Most of the ice has melted by now, condensation dripping from the glass like the trepidation cascading down the tightly locked walls around my heart. “Dimitri is very dreamy.” Zach laughs. “Are you getting any real-life inspiration for the men in your books these days?”
Oh, okay, so we’re just going to jump into this conversation.
“No.” I scoff, taking a sip. “Believe it or not, it’s actually my imagination alone that inspires the characters I create.”
“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “That was a lame segue to ask if you’re with someone.”
“How about asking me how I’m doing, Zach? How about you ask me how many months I cried myself to sleep over you?” I slam my glass on the counter, turning to face him head-on. “Or, at the very least, why don’t you tell me if Wyoming was worth all of that? Was it everything you hoped it’d be?”
Zach refuses to meet my eyes, peeling the label off his beer bottle as he says, “Saying that would make me feel a lot less guilty if I knew you were happy now, too.”
I laugh, and all the pain I expect to rage against my chest doesn’t come. In fact, all I feel is relief. “I’m very happy.” I grab his arm, forcing him to lift his head and see my smile. “I really am.”
He exhales, placing his hand over mine and squeezing.
“Now, tell me how Wyoming really was.”
The biggest grin I’ve ever seen on him spreads across his cheeks. “It was…incredible. The work was hard, and I was never not tired. The first few weeks were absolutely miserable, but once I realized waking up before dawn meant you never missed the sunrise, I actually started to get excited about it. Sitting out there, watching the sun come up over the mountains like that…”He continues, detailing every aspect of his life working on a cattle ranch.
I’ll be honest, not one bit of it sounds like a good time to me—except maybe the sunrise over the mountains, but I get ocean sunsets every single day. I’m not sure mucking horseshit or whatever the fuck else he had to do is worth that when all I have to do is look out my window.
“So, are you going back?” I ask once he finishes. The bartender moves to make me another drink, but I stop her. I need to head back to Pacific Shores and track down August before Zach does. I don’t think he told anyone he was coming home.
“I don’t think so. I loved it out there. It gave me everything I needed, helped me figure out who I want to be.” He shrugs. “But it wasn’t home. Pacific Shores is home.”
I nod, and those knots I thought I’d avoided earlier finally twist in my gut. If Zach is here to stay, I don’t know what that means for August and me. Sitting in front of him now, I feel nothing like I used to, outside of appreciation for his physical form.
I think I’ll always consider Zach my first love—he earned that title. The all-consuming, burning, lose-your-mind kind of obsession between two young people exploring the concept of intimacy for the first time isn’t something to overlook or belittle. Still, when I look back now, I realize, I’m not sure I was everinlove with him. No, I was infatuated.
I wasn’t able to tell the difference between the two until I experienced the real thing, and now that I’ve fallen for August, nothing else would ever measure up.
Regardless, the dynamic between the three of us will have consequences, and I don’t know what Zach staying in Pacific Shores is going to stir up.
“I’m heading out to my parents' place in Palm Springs for a couple of weeks to spend some time with them, recover and relax from the past year.” He drains the remainder of his beer. “Then, I’m going to move home and head back to school.”
“School?” I ask. “For what?”
