11. Brea
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The line ahead of us coils like a restless snake, brimming with eager readers vibrating with excitement. Keira stands by my side as we linger outside the grand double doors leading to the book signing event. Decals on the floor beneath our feet showcase some of the authors in attendance. Under my own is an advertisement for Nikki Landis. I feel bad standing on it, but there’s nowhere else for me to go with the crowd around me.
Keira is engrossed in studying a table layout she grabbed from the check-in table, her finger tapping against a particular section—the merchandise booth. "We must hit this spot as soon as it opens," she declares. “It will go fast then we need to go to Eden’s table. It’ll have the longest line, but once we’re through that, we’ll have plenty of time to visit all the other authors.”
While Keira delves into our plans for snagging posters and securing early chapter signatures from Eden, my thoughts veer. Instead of focusing on our itinerary, I find myself constantly thinking about Fox. Images from last night flood my thoughts. Moments of shared laughter seamlessly blending with glimpses of his goofy smile. Those intricate tattoos adorning his arms calling to me. Each with stories yearning to be unveiled.
My heart clenches once more. This infatuation makes no sense. Yet here I am lost over a man I just met. I know I’ve been sheltered under Tank’s bullshit rules, but I’ve dated since he came barreling into my life. Undercover, of course, but it’s not like I am a pining virgin begging for Fox to fuck me.
A sudden burst of laughter jolts me from my thoughts. I glance toward the entrance, where a cluster of brightly dressed fans are giggling at something. The air buzzes with anticipation, and the excitement around me intensifies, yet my thoughts are still consumed by Fox.
“Hey, you with me?” Keira’s voice cuts through my haze, bringing my focus back to her as she pokes at my arm. “You’re looking a little dazed. Just thinking about all the things you want to get signed?”
“Right.” I force a smile, trying to mask the whirlwind inside. But deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that this event isn’t just about books. “I’m ready for Eden’s table.”
Keira rolls her eyes dramatically. “We’re going in hot! Brace yourself. We need to work our way up front and stay on track if we want those exclusive editions.”
Her words bring a surge of motivation, and as we inch closer to the entrance, I find myself suppressing a chuckle at how unhinged this whole thing feels. It’s like preparing for battle against a horde of enthusiastic readers all climbing over each other for mere minutes with their beloved authors.
The doors swing open and people surge forward. I clutch Keira's arm tightly, letting her lead as we weave through the pack ahead of us. Inside, the space is vibrant. Tables are set up in a sprawling labyrinth of literary wonders. Each table is adorned with books stacked high and colorful banners bearing authors' names splashed across them. Readers mill about excitedly as fans chat while clutching their beloved paperbacks.
“Wow,” I breathe out softly under my breath.
Laughter bounces off the walls while passionate readers voice their admiration for authors. These authors are their rock stars. A few tables down, someone bursts through a stack filled with books. Fans cheer over limited editions and exclusive merchandise that features beloved characters.
Keira catches sight of something glittery at a merch table not far away. Her face lights up. “Brea! Look!” She gestures frantically before pulling me toward it without another word.
“Go ahead! I’ll catch you there,” I call out weakly amidst all this colorful chaos. This is too much. Too many people. Too many bikers. Too fucking much. I need air.
I draw back towards the door. I push through the crowd coming in until I’m finally outside where clear air gradually fills my lungs. The space begins to spin around me.
“Can you move?” someone calls out. “You’re blocking the entrance.”
"I’m sorry." I shift backward only to collide with a solid figure, my heart skipping a beat as I pivot around to apologize to the person I just plowed into, but once I see who’s behind me, my mouth goes dry.
“Well, at least I didn’t have a drink this time,” he quips.
Forcing myself to breathe deeply feels impossible now. All too fast, everything starts to swirl again. The laughter fades into an echo, and it suddenly gets hard to hear my own thoughts. He notices far too quickly when my smile falters.
“Are you okay?” A hint of concern tinges his voice as he takes half-a-step closer but halts himself mid-movement, as if crossing some invisible line drawn by fate itself between us. “Where’s your friend? What’s their name?”
“I…just need…” My palms start sweating against one another.
He steps back instinctively, then watches our surroundings. “Stay right there.” Fox straightens up with surprising authority. It's unnerving how easily he's assuming control. “Watch her for a second, will you?” he asks someone by me before disappearing into the signing room.
I stand there, rooted to the spot, my heart thudding loudly in my chest as I watch him retreat into the crowd behind me.
The creak of the door startles me, pulling me from my thoughts. My focus snaps back to the present as Fox comes back with a woman following him.
“This is my friend, Hallie.”
But as I try to find my words, Fox strides forward, his eyes locking onto me. In that moment, it's as if hell itself is inching closer. His gaze flickers briefly to Hallie. “What’s wrong with her?”
Hallie notices my frozen stance and swiftly intervenes, "She’s having a panic attack," she announces, her voice cutting through the swirling colors and bright lights that threaten to overwhelm me. “It must be the crowd.”
Fox's brow knits together in concern, deep lines forming on his forehead like angry slashes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a room key. “Take her up to my room.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Fox. People are watching us.” Hallie hesitates, glancing between us, uncertainty flashing in her eyes.
“Fuck them. Just do it, Hallie. It’ll be fine. You go on up. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he insists.
“Okay.” Hallie's voice is barely above a whisper, but she moves to my side, gently nudging me forward. “Let’s go.”
I’m still reeling from the sudden turn of events, my feet feeling like they’re glued to the ground. With Hallie’s warm presence beside me, I find the strength to move. We push through the throng of readers still waiting outside to get into the signing until we reach the elevators. The steel doors sliding shut with a muffled thud that momentarily dull the din outside. My pulse begins to slow now that we are away from the signing room.
“You doing okay?” she asks. “Let’s try some controlled breathing. Breathe in for four counts, and then slowly out. Can you do that?”
I nod my answer. Counting in my head. One, two, three, four. Over and over again, trying to will my body to relax. In and out until the fire breathing dragon inside of my chest wanes just a little bit.
The elevator hums softly as it ascends. Hallie's concerned eyes remain glued to me, and I can see her trying to process everything that just happened, the worry etched into her features.
“Keep that up. Your color is already better.”
The elevator dings at the penthouse floor before the door swings wide open. Hallie steps out first, pressing her arm against the door as I pass through it. “His room is down this way.” She turns left and heads towards the end of the hallway, where two doors are sequestered by themselves. She presses the keycard to the one straight ahead. The lock clicks, and she opens the door, ushering me inside.
Once inside the room, the relief is almost immediate. There’s no crowd or noise here, just relief.
“Better?”
“Yeah, it’s slowly down,” I admit. “I really didn’t mean to act like that. I’m usually—” I start, but she cuts me off with a comforting smile.
“Hey, no one can predict when the anxiety monster decides to strike. Do you want a glass of water?”
I nod. Hallie heads over to the kitchenette, grabs a glass from the shelf above the sink, and begins filling it from the tap. She walks it over to me, and as she’s handing me the glass, the door to the room clicks again, and Fox steps inside.
“You can head back, Hallie. I got this.”
“You sure?” She hesitates, glancing between us, her concern still palpable.
“Yeah, I’ll take it from here. I’ll be back down in a bit. I told Az,” he reassures her, his gaze now solely focused on me.
Hallie nods and slips out through the door, leaving Fox and me alone in the quiet sanctuary of the room.
“I’m sorry for… well, everything,” I stammer, suddenly aware of how awkward I must seem. It has been years since I had a panic attack. They’d started shortly after my dad passed away.
Fox shrugs one shoulder casually. “No big deal. Just didn’t want you passing out and taking someone else down with you.” His attempt at humor feels forced but warms something deep inside me. “Does this happen a lot?”
“No,” I admit. “It’s been a while since my last one. I wasn’t expecting it.” I’m honestly surprised it took this long with everything going on in my life right now. Truthfully, I would have expected it more when I ran away from home. Not at a book signing. “It just…it happens sometimes.” I take a sip of the water his friend had given me. The cool water putting me more at ease. I finish it off, cradling the glass in my hand, until Fox snatches it and takes it over to the kitchenette to refill it.
“I get it,” he says, leaning against the countertop with an easygoing grace.
There’s something unmistakably vulnerable in being alone with him like this. Maybe it’s being away from Tank or being on my own for the first time, but with Fox, I feel at ease.
He returns, setting the full glass back in my hands, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he returns to the spot at the counter. “You going to tell me your name, firefly?”
“You did play white knight.”
“There’s nothing noble about me, but if rescuing you gets me what I want, I’ll wear the armor.”
“Brea,” I say, breaking the surface tension. The word slips out easier now. “Brea Quinn.”
“Well, Brea Quinn,” he says, rolling my name between his lips like it’s an unfamiliar flavor he’s just discovered. “What do you do when you’re not having panic attacks at book signings?”
“Um, I’m kind of between things right now, but I was a barista until recently.”
“Barista, huh? So, you’ve got some skills with steam and froth?” His grin is disarming.
I can’t help but chuckle, feeling the tension in my chest ease slightly at his playful banter. “I might. What about you?”
“I work in private construction.” Surprise must cross my face because his mouth shifts into a grin. “That shocking or something?”
“No, of course, not. I just figured since you were at the signing, you’re a cover model or something.”
Fox throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and infectious. “A cover model? Hell no. The only thing I’m modeling is hard hats and boots on a construction site.” He steps closer. “But if you were into that kind of thing, I would definitely consider it. I mean, I have a motorcycle back home, so I’m halfway there already.”
“Hard hats and boots?” I retort, raising an eyebrow. “You clearly don’t mind getting dirty then.”
Fox leans in closer, a teasing glint in his brown eyes. “Only when it’s worth my while.” His voice drops a few octaves, vibrating with a low, enticing timbre that sends little shivers down my spine. “And you seem like it would be.”
My heart races, thumping loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it. The way he looks at me makes everything else fade into the background. I swallow hard, every instinct screaming for me to play cool while his gaze pins me down. “What do you mean by ‘worth your while?’” I manage to ask with feigned bravado despite my pulse hammering against my ribs.
Fox takes another step forward until there’s hardly space left between us leaving no room for doubt or silence. “You really want to know?” He closes that distance further still, so close now that his breath brushes gently against my skin.
“Um.” My voice wavers slightly as uncertainty washes over me. Suddenly there's no more room left for hesitation because without warning, without asking or waiting for permission, he closes the gap completely. His mouth meets mine, warm and demanding yet soft enough to send sparks racing down my spine.
A startled gasp slips past my lips, which he quickly allows to slip away into the kiss, deepening it as he cradles my face in his hands. There’s an urgency to it, a need that radiates between us. It’s been so long since a man has stirred this kind of reaction. Yet here I am, melting against Fox.
When his lips finally pull away, we’re both panting. I search his eyes, attempting to gauge how deep this moment is for him.
“So...” I manage, trying to regain my composure with mixed success. “That was...unexpected.”
“Was it?” he replies, leaning back slightly as if reclaiming some measure of swagger. “I thought we were just getting started.”
My cheeks flush under his scrutiny. “I didn’t mean for?—”
“Relax, firefly.” His tone switches from teasing to reassuring. “I promise I’m not going to bite… unless you want me to,” he adds with a wink.
Just as I gather the courage to respond, his phone blares an obnoxious ring through the stillness around us. A sharp reminder that reality is just outside the closed doors. He glances down at it, visibly annoyed by its intrusiveness.
"Seriously? Now?" Fox mutters under his breath. He tosses his phone onto the bed behind us. “Where were we?”
Just as he begins to lean in again, my stomach dips with anticipation and fluttering nerves, my breath hitching subtly. But before our lips can meet once more, the shrill sound of his phone interrupts us again. He groans, needlessly dramatic, as he reaches for it, glancing at the caller ID.
His frustration is evident as he swipes to answer. “What’s up?”
I can’t help but catch snippets of his conversation. “Yeah? Uh-huh… No, I’m busy right now. ” His eyes dart back to me, a mix of annoyance and masked concern. “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something important.” The caller’s voice gets louder as Fox pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fucking fine. I’ll be right down.” He ends the call, tossing his phone again.
“You have to go?”
“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is leave you but I’m working the event. My ball busting boss is looking for me. I have to go back.”
“Right,” I say. “Business calls, I guess. I should go back down, too. My friend is probably looking for me.”
Fox runs a hand through his hair, looking both frustrated and resigned. “I know I have to go back, but not before I kiss you again.” His lips find mine again, the kiss an electric jolt that penetrates my body. It’s deeper this time, a quiet promise hidden in the softness of his touch, and I momentarily lose track of the world around us. He pulls away slightly, searching my eyes with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.
“Say you’ll meet me after the event’s over? I’m off the clock as soon as it’s over. I want to take you out. Just you and me.”
I feel a wave of warmth wash over me at his words. The way he looks at me, that spark of genuine interest behind his playful demeanor, sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach. I nod slowly, almost subconsciously, captivated by the promise of what’s to come.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying to sound more composed than I feel. “What time?”
“Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up outside the lobby,” he replies, flashing that disarming smile again. “Just keep an eye out for a guy in steel-toed boots and a hard hat. You won’t miss me.”
“Right, because I wouldn’t want to confuse you with all the other tough guys roaming around here.” I manage a smile, feeling bolder now with the thrill of our moment still lingering between us.
He laughs, that rich sound echoing in my ears like music. “Trust me, firefly. You’ll know it’s me.” There’s a tinge of something unspoken in his gaze, a mix of excitement and urgency that makes the anticipation almost tangible.
But before I can respond, he abruptly straightens up, shifting from flirtation to focus. “I’ve really got to go now, or I’m going to be in deep shit,” he sighs, running a hand along his jawline as if reining in the energy between us.
“Go on then,” I say reluctantly. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you getting fired.”
With another lingering glance, he slips out the door, leaving me alone in his hotel room wondering what the hell did I just do?