Chapter 24
JOSIE
It’s been two days since I sent Vanessa that email. And pretty much every waking moment that I haven’t spent working, I’ve spent in Daddy’s bed. Or on the couch. Or bent over the dining room table.
Pretty much any way he can have me, he does.
Wringing every bit of pleasure from my tortured body until I feel like I might actually burst into flames if he touches me again.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he somehow knew about the email to Vanessa.
But not only is that impossible, everything I know about him says he’d have me bent over the nearest piece of furniture for the sting of his belt rather than a screaming orgasm.
Whatever the reason, it’s something of a relief when Daddy packs me in his SUV to drive me into town for my planning session with Poppy.
As much as I enjoy being forced to come so hard I see stars regularly, I’m also sore and exhausted and in desperate need of even an hour without my Daddy’s attention focused on me.
“Josie!” The second we walk through the door of the bookstore, Poppy lets out an excited squeal as she rushes forward to throw her arms around me. “I’m so happy you’re here, I can’t even tell you! Come on, I’ve got the back room all set up for us!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t help but grin in return. “Lead the way!”
The sound of someone clearing their throat halts us and we both turn toward the sound. My heart actually stops at the sight of Sheriff Donnelly leaning against the front counter, one brow raised.
Oh, god. Did Vanessa contact her? Is this a trap?
“Are you forgetting something, Persephone?”
Poppy’s brow furrows in confusion for a few seconds before her expression clears again. “Oh! Right, I need to lock the front door first if I’ll be in the back room.”
“Good girl,” the sheriff says, approval lighting her eyes. “I know you think I’m ridiculous, but I don’t like the idea of just anyone wandering in off the streets when you girls are here alone.”
“They won’t be alone,” Daddy says. “I’m sticking around to help.”
Sheriff Donnelly frowns. “You are?”
“Yes.”
The corners of her mouth continue to dip down even further. “Maybe I should stay, too.”
“Oh my god, Reese.” Rolling her eyes, Poppy releases her death grip on my hand to stride forward and physically shove Reese toward the front door. “I have known Bram Thorne my entire life. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? I don’t mind sticking around for a bit.”
“Reese, if you don’t get the fuck out of my store, I’m calling the cops on you.”
Pausing at the front door, Reese looks down at the tiny bookstore owner, her lips twitching. “You’re going to call my own men to come arrest me?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call the FBI. Whatever it takes for you to get out of my shop.”
“Fine. I’m going. But make sure you lock this door behind me.”
“I can’t lock the door if you never fucking leave.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrow. “One of these days, I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap, little girl.”
“So you keep saying. Goodbye, Reese!”
With another shove, the sheriff steps out onto the sidewalk and Poppy flips the lock and sags against the glass door. “Finally. I thought she’d never leave.”
“Does Sheriff Donnelly spend a lot of time here?” Now that I’m over the shock of seeing her, my romance-author radar is pinging like crazy.
Rolling her eyes again, Poppy shoves away from the door. “Yes. Honestly, some days I’m not sure how she actually gets any work done since she’s always here. Of course, in a town the size of ours there probably isn’t much for her to do, but still. She’s a pain in my fucking ass.”
“Language, Poppy,” Daddy scolds mildly. “I don’t let my Josie use those words, either.”
“Seriously? What is it with you people? They’re just words.”
“They are grown-up words and not appropriate for Little girls.”
Oh my god. He did not just say that.
Before Poppy can give voice to the confusion I can see stamped all over her face, I grab her hand and pull her toward the back room. “Ignore him. I wanna see what you got for our event!”
The distraction works. Seemingly forgetting entirely about Daddy’s “Little girls” comment, Poppy squeals happily as we head toward the back room.
“Okay, so, my thought was we do like a play on how spicy your books are. Something with, you know, ‘steamy romance to keep you warm’ since it’s so fuc—freaking cold here until like, April. ”
“Oh that sounds like fun! We should…” My words trail off as I step into a large storeroom where Poppy has set up a long table with several boxes of books.
My books.
Holy crap.
Somewhat awestruck, I reach into the first box and pull out my latest release, Anna’s Ruin. “Poppy. How many books did you order?”
“Ah… I don’t know. Like five to ten of each from your last three series? Oh and a couple of my personal favorites from your earlier series.”
Gripping my book in my hand, I can only stare at her. “Poppy, that’s… that’s way too many books.”
“Nonsense. You’re Marjorie Kincaid. People are going to be lining up out the freaking door to come see you.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “You’re very sweet.”
“I’m not.” Setting the pile of books she’s just pulled from a box aside, she turns to face me, her expression suddenly that of a very serious, very shrewd businesswoman.
“Look, Josie. I am one of your biggest fans. But I’m also part owner of this very tiny shop.
Our profit margins are basically nonexistent.
So what I’m not going to do is waste a ton of capital on an idea that I don’t actively believe in one thousand percent.
I invested in your books because I know, for a fact, you will bring me big fucking business—shut up, Bram.
Now, are you going to help me so I can make us both some money, or are you going to stand there and keep denying what a big fucking deal you are? ”
“She’s right, bug.” At my Daddy’s quiet words, I turn to face him, and there’s no denying the truth I see in his eyes. Stepping forward, he cups my face in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over my cheekbones. “You’re an incredible writer and I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.”
“You are?” For a moment, I’m so overwhelmed by hearing him say he’s proud of me that the first part of his sentence doesn’t click. But then it does and horror wells up inside me. “Wait. You’ve read my books?”
“Of course I’ve read your books.” His gentle smile turns wolfish as he reaches over to pick up what is arguably my darkest book to date. “There’s a scene from this one I’m particularly curious to try out.”
My mind races trying to remember exactly what’s in that particular book and what he could possibly want to do to me that he hasn’t already done. “They aren’t how-to manuals, Bram.”
“Disagree,” Poppy says cheerfully, reminding me with a jolt that she’s still standing there, watching this entire exchange. “I have several scenes I’ve highlighted in your books that I’d be all too happy to put to the test.”
Embarrassment once more turns my face into an inferno, but beneath the burn of humiliation is a happy glow. My Daddy not only reads my books, he thinks I’m a good writer. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear that, from him specifically, before right now.
He’s not going to be so proud when he finds out you turned him into the authorities.
Fuck. Tears burn in my eyes, but I blink them away and force a smile. “Okay, fine, if I accept I’m a big deal can we please move on from this incredibly awkward conversation and talk about this event we’re supposed to be planning?”
Josie
“It just feels like it’s missing something,” Poppy says for what feels like the millionth time.
True to her word, she’s proved to be a hell of a businesswoman. But clearly something about the extensive planning we’ve already done isn’t sitting right with her.
Leaning back in my chair, I press a hand to my rumbling stomach. “Can we figure out what’s missing after we eat something?”
“That’s my cue,” Daddy says with a low laugh. Pushing up out of his own chair, he pins us each with a stern glare. “I’m going to go get us some lunch. You two are going to lock the door behind me and so help me if you aren’t both still in this store when I get back.”
To me, the threat is implied, but I can see the wheels turning in Poppy’s mind. “What are you gonna do?”
“To you? Nothing.” The corner of Daddy’s lip pulls up in a smirk. “I’ll just tell the sheriff and let her deal with you.”
Red floods Poppy’s face. “I’m not scared of Reese Donnelly.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, while you come lock the door behind me.”
“Bossy assholes. I’m surrounded by bossy assholes,” Poppy mutters, but she does, indeed, get up to follow him out of the back room.
She returns a minute or so later and flops down in the chair across from me, pinning me with an unnervingly sharp gaze. “So what’s the deal with you and Bram Thorne?”
Panic digs sharp talons into my chest. “What do you mean?”
“I dunno, there’s just… something. Like you only got to town what, a week ago? Maybe two? But I swear it seems like you two have known each other way longer than that.”
I force myself to shrug as my mind goes into overdrive. Should I tell her the truth? Can I trust her? Clearly she and the sheriff have something going on, but if the sheriff is also into Grayson…
“Sometimes it’s just like that, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Her expression clears, her usual bright smile once more returning to her face. “It is a super cute coincidence, though.”
“What is?”
“You know.” When I only stare, she rolls her eyes. “Oh come on. I read in an interview you did once that your favorite novel ever is Dracula and you just happen to fall in love with a man named Bram? Like Bram Stoker? What are the odds?”
The odds are, indeed, infinitesimally small.
So small, I can’t believe I didn’t notice before. I’ve been so caught up in my own grief, my own misery, I didn’t see what was so clearly in front of me.
He chose his name for me. Even twenty years ago, when he was probably convinced he’d never see me again, he tethered himself to me in a small but permanent way.
And how did I repay him? By trying to get him arrested.
I’m such a fucking asshole.
“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” Hurrying around the table, Poppy crouches beside me, laying a hand on leg and squeezing. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I really fucked up, Poppy. I did something really, really horrible and Bram is never going to forgive me.”
“Oh, honey. That man adores you. Just be honest with him and own up to whatever you did, and I’m sure you two will be able to work it out.”
I nod, seemingly in agreement, but deep down I know the truth.
Twenty years and a fake death wasn’t enough to stop Bram Thorne from loving me. But one stupid email could change all that.
What the hell have I done?