Chapter Five
Luna
“We leave in half an hour,” Hayes’s stern voice called through the hotel room door.
I pushed myself to sit, feeling the gentle throb in my temple. It was six thirty in the morning. I glanced around the room, seeing my laptop on the table. My notebook was open, with line after line of scribbles that could be either gold or gibberish.
I had done exactly what he’d told me not to do, and I wasn’t interested in hearing about it this morning.
I might not know my schedule as well as he did, but I did know there was no reason to leave the hotel at seven. My first stop was the shower.
I had been too distracted writing yesterday to do it, and now that I realized I hadn’t showered after the plane, I wanted to scrub every inch.
I took the time to scrunch some conditioner and gel into my hair so my curls would look halfway decent for my events today. Wild curls gave an artistic vibe, but without definition, I tended to wander into Einstein territory.
I emerged from the bathroom thirty-five minutes later in a cute sundress and sandals, ready to face the day.
First, I had to face Hayes, who was looking ten shades of pissed off…
and also so hot he could burn toast. He wore a skintight black T-shirt, black dress pants, and black shoes.
Not a hair was out of place despite probably getting as much sleep as I did.
His arms were crossed firmly over his chest, showing off every vein and muscle in his forearms.
Alright, karma, I get it.
“Rough night?” he deadpanned.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t respond to that, just led me to the elevator. We headed down to the lobby and walked to the counter in the attached café.
“Good morning, what can I get you?” the overly cheery barista asked, running her eyes over Hayes a little too slowly for my liking.
He was my character inspiration. She could get her own.
“I’ll have a large black coffee and an egg white omelet.”
“I’ll have the biggest caramel latte you can find, and…what kind of muffins do you have?”
“She’ll also have the omelet,” Hayes said, flashing the barista a smile that had her obeying with a smile of her own.
I put my hands on my hips. “I can order my own food.”
He leaned against the counter and faced me while we waited. “You need protein to stay full until lunchtime. We don’t have time for snack runs. Rule five, remember?”
I huffed. “Well, we’d better have time for pee breaks because this isn’t the only caffeine I’ll be having today.”
He carried our food and drinks to a table when they came up, but predictably, the argument wasn’t over. “You should have slept when I told you, Darling.”
“Darling? Really? Don’t start giving me cute nicknames, Captain Killjoy.”
He pressed his thumbs into his temples. “Darling is your last name, and all I’m trying to do is keep you from crashing halfway through the day.”
I pointed my fork at him. “I thrive on this kind of mess. Writing is not a nine-to-five gig.”
“Apparently, neither is babysitting you.”
“It would be an easier job if you would lighten up and let me do my thing.”
He shook his head and turned his attention to his breakfast.
******
The bookstore was already buzzing when we arrived. Fans were lined up out front, holding tote bags and copies of my latest book. My face stared back at me from a large sign on the front door.
I had been a writer for a long time, but this was my first brush with recognition and being truly in demand. I swallowed hard. This was an author’s dream and an introvert’s nightmare.
I should have gotten more sleep.
“Is this where you tackle people?” I asked Hayes, distracting myself from my nervousness by bothering him. “The lady with the cane looks like she’s plotting something, and nothing says here-to-start-a-riot like mom jeans and a sensible ponytail.”
He shot me a look. “Come on, smart-ass.”
He settled his hand against my lower back as we weaved through the crowd toward the back entrance.
His touch was as grounding as it was distracting, which I didn’t want to think too hard about just now.
Cameras flashed, and people called my name as if I were royalty.
I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this kind of attention.
The bookstore owner set me up at a long wooden table near the front. Stacks of my books were neatly arranged on it, like an altar to romance.
Then the line of fans was let through the door.
I posed for pictures, signed books, smiled, laughed at the right times, and worried I looked like a hostage in every fan photo. My cheeks ached, my wrist cramped from signing books, and I was sweating through my dress.
Through it all, Hayes stood beside me. Motionless and watching. He didn’t flinch when a toddler wandered over and tried to grab the shiny buckle on his belt, and he didn’t blink when a flash went off. Didn’t snicker when the fans gushed over my spicy scenes.
On the other hand, I was a mess. These people were all here to see me.
I couldn’t wrap my head around that. They quoted my ramblings back to me like gospel and told me how my books had helped them bounce back after dark times.
I was humbled, overwhelmed, and terrified to say something else that would go viral.
Hayes’s stoic presence was both comforting and infuriating.
He was my prison guard and wet dream rolled into one.
I was grateful for his steady energy, given the volume of people, but I also found myself wanting to impress him. Maybe not impress him so much as not embarrass myself in front of him. I wanted him to like me, and that made me feel like a silly teenager all over again.
“Ms. Darling,” he said between fans, “do you need a break?”
“Break?” I laughed, but it sounded a little wild. “Do you see the line?” I waved at the dozen people standing in front of me. “I can’t leave fans waiting.”
“You at least need to hydrate,” he said. He held a bottle of water out to me.
I accepted it because, dammit, he wasn’t wrong. “Thanks. You’re… annoyingly practical.”
He gave me the barest lift of an eyebrow. “It’s kind of my job.”
The next fan stepped up to the table, and her eyes darted back and forth between Hayes and me. “I am so excited to meet you. I’ve read all your books. Your life must be so romantic. Even your muscle man looks like Prince Charming.”
The only indication Hayes heard her was a slight flare of his nostrils, but I grinned at my fan. “Prince Charming is entirely fictional, but my guard here makes for great research material.”
The fan leaned closer. “All I know is if Prince Charming had muscles like that, Sleeping Beauty would have slipped him the tongue.” She gave me an exaggerated wink, and Hayes coughed to cover a laugh.
So the man was human after all. I was starting to wonder.
By the time the last fan left I felt like I’d run a marathon.
Hayes looked exactly the same as he had when we’d arrived—calm, unreadable, and impeccably in control.
I wanted to shake him and tell him to lighten up.
And I also wanted to lean into the way his warmth lingered when he had to get close to me in the crowd.
“Do we have time for a drink?” I asked as I buckled myself into the truck. “After all those hours of being social, I could use a margarita.”
“Rule five, Darling.” His jaw tightened, and I waited for him to continue scolding, but then his features relaxed, and he shook his head. “You did good.”
“You too. I’ve never seen someone stand still that long.”
“I’m glad my ability to do nothing impresses you.”
“I’m also impressed by your bossiness and rigid schedule, if that helps.”
He set his jaw and shook his head again.
We circled back to the hotel to pick up our luggage, then drove the half hour to Fort Worth. All things considered, all I had done today was sit, but I was exhausted by the time we checked into our hotel.
“No late-night coffee runs,” Hayes said, pinning me with his stare for a moment before he retreated to his room and softly shut the door between them.
I brushed my teeth and got into my pajamas.
Even though my body was tired, my mind was wide awake.
Every single thing Hayes had done that day flitted around in my brain, and I had to write it down.
I pulled my legs under me and turned my poor, overworked laptop back on.
It was one thing to get his looks right, but his voice, his steadiness, his calm yet deadly vibe, I needed to get it out of my head so I could sleep.
Calm but not cold.
Hid his kindness like a secret weapon.
I closed my eyes to picture him in my mind. What would it look like if he really had to protect someone?
He wouldn’t hesitate; I knew that. What if the person he was caring for needed something else? Something more intimate than food or security. What if they needed his touch? Would he add another rule about no physical contact, or would he slide his hand down—
I jumped when a knock sounded on the door.
“Luna?” His voice came through the door, and I fanned my face to try to hide the blush. “Don’t pretend you’re asleep. We both know you’re writing.”
He cracked the door open, just enough to lean against the frame and look in.
He was in the same tight black shirt as earlier, and it occurred to me I was in silk sleep shorts and a tank with no bra.
His eyes ran over me for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to my face.
“It’s after midnight, and tomorrow will be another long day. ”
“I promise, I’m almost done.”
He snorted. “You said the same thing last night.”
“I mean it this time.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Darling, you’re going to make me add another rule.”
My mind snapped back to my thoughts just moments ago, and my pulse gave a hard thump between my thighs. “Not another rule.” I clutched my chest dramatically. “What is it this time? No creativity after lights out?”
He pinned me with that stare again.
“How about no tempting fate.”
“I’m not tempting fate.”
“You’re tempting something,” he muttered. For just a second, something I couldn’t name flashed across his face, but it was gone just as quickly.
I licked my lips, and his eyes followed the motion. He had said what he came to say, but he remained standing there, and I wondered if he was fighting temptation more than fighting me on the rules.
Whatever was happening was suddenly gone, and he pushed off the doorframe. “Get some sleep, Luna.” He shut the door behind him, and I let out a long breath before turning back to the accusation of the blinking cursor on my screen.
Then I typed the one thing I wanted to remember from the entire day:
The hero made the rules, and the heroine convinced him they were worth breaking.
For once, I saved my work, closed the laptop, and actually went to sleep.