Page 99 of Spotlight
“Absolutely.” I’ve been dying for her to tell me about what she’s writing. It’s such a sacred process for her that I never want to push.
“Okay.” She flashes a tentative smile before starting in.
“I got the idea when we were at the Mustangs game.”
I hang on her every word. Ruby is a fabulous storyteller, but when she’s in this mode, she talks fast and in circles, sometimes inserting something she forgot to say at the beginning that was important for the characters or plot. It’s like a puzzle to follow along and try to piece it all together.
It’s only when she’s finished that I offer any feedback. Which really isn’t feedback at all, but more like me fangirling over my genius sister. A sports romance from Ruby Madison? It’s so unexpected that people will lose their minds.
“Have you told Grandpa?” I ask when we finally fall quiet.
“No.” She shakes her head so quickly she looks like a bobblehead. Ruby is buzzing with nervous energy. She always gets like this right before she holes up for a few weeks and pounds out words. “I thought I’d surprise him once I know I can pull it off.”
“You can,” I assure her. “And if we have any baseball questions, I have an inside source.”
“I know baseball. Unlike you, I paid a little attention over the years.”
“I’m sorry, youknowbaseball?” Ruby is a lot of amazing, talented things, but sporty isn’t one of them.
She waves one hand around. “There’s a ball and bases.”
I fight a laugh.
“The pitcher throws the ball and the guy with the bat tries to whack it out of the park.” She points like she’s making her closing statement. “There are quarters or—wait, no, innings and whichever team has the most points at the end wins!”
“Points?” My body folds over with laughter. Excitement and that giddy high of books mixed with my sister and her idiosyncrasies is too much to hold back. When I glance up at her, she wears a sheepish grin.
“Okay. I might need help with the baseball stuff, but the story isn’t about baseball. It’s a romance between a beloved hometown bad boy shortstop who gets in trouble and is forced to do a charity auction to save his reputation.”
“Where the heroine’s twin sister bids and wins for her sister because she knows how big of a fan she is,” I add. “I love stories where a regular woman is confronted with a celebrity only to find out he’s a big ole jerk in real life.”
She pauses. “Would it be better if he turned out to be a werewolf? Or an alien?”
She looks so serious that I don’t want to laugh, but one slips out anyway. Ruby grins and joins in.
“I think I might have broken my brain. It’s all this sports talk. I’m going to take a walk and get some fresh air.” She stands and packs up her laptop and many notepads and pens. She smiles as she zips up her backpack. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not harassing me over the past few months and letting me figure out the book in my own time. I know it was killing you.”
“So painful. I was on death’s doorstep. Truly.”
With a chuckle, she heads out of the office, leaving me alone with the mail. The store is quiet in the afternoon. We got hit with a cold front that brought in wind and light rain. I can’t blame people for wanting to stay home. Curling up on the couch with a blanket and a good book sounds like the perfect way to spend the day.
In the late afternoon, I brave the cold for a coffee break. Inside the café, I order my usual black coffee, then decide to add a dash of cream and sugar. Flynn would be so proud. I move over to the end of the counter to wait.
“I was in your store this morning.” The voice comes from my left side and makes me jump.
When I turn, I come face to face with Walter, the owner of Plot Twist. That I didn’t even notice him speaks to how much I’m in my head lately. It’s possible falling in love makes people dumber. I wonder if Ruby can use that for plot material.
“You were?” I ask, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. He must have stopped by while I was at Flynn’s house. I wonder why Gigi didn’t mention it. She had to have recognized him.
“I received some of your mail by accident,” he says.
“Oh.” Well, that makes more sense. I can’t picture him browsing our store unless it was to scope out the competition, and that’s more something I would do than him, from what I’ve gathered in our few interactions.
“There’s quite a big romance section.”
