Chapter 31 #2
My heart lurches so hard I almost drop my phone.
I submitted to them a while ago for a potential commission, and it seemed like they might be interested, asking me for a few more samples before saying they’d consider it and get back to me—but that was over a month ago now, and I’d given up on it.
They’re one of the biggest children’s book publishers in the country.
I sit up straighter without meaning to, my whole body going tense. Asher notices immediately, his attention shifting to me even though my dad is mid-sentence talking about how the season is going for the Cincinnati Knights.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.
I scan the email once, then twice, barely able to process the words.
Dear Ms. Sanders,
Thank you for your patience as we completed our review process. We are pleased to inform you that we would like to commission you for our new Woodland Adventures series…
“I…” My voice comes out scratchy. “I just got offered a book deal.”
I say it quietly, not trying to make a big production. My family has never really understood the significance of my work stuff, so I’ve learned not to expect much reaction.
But Asher’s response is immediate and enthusiastic, his face lighting up. “You got a book deal?”
He says it loud enough that everyone at the table looks over, conversation stopping.
“What’s this?” Mom asks, setting down her coffee.
“Kat just got offered a major publishing contract,” Asher says, and the pride in his voice makes my chest feel too tight.
“It’s, um…” I clear my throat, still staring at my phone. “Jones & Valen. They want to commission me for a series. Six children’s books called Woodland Adventures, with potential for more if the initial series does well.”
I’m braced for polite congratulations followed by concerned questions about stability.
Instead, everyone erupts.
“That’s incredible, Kat!” Josephine jumps up to hug me. “Six books!”
“A whole series,” Mom says, her face glowing. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful.”
Even my dad looks impressed. “That’s really something. Good for you, kiddo.”
The enthusiasm catches me off guard, and I realize it’s contagious. Asher’s excitement has spread to everyone else, filling the entire dining room.
“I’ll need to get some new art supplies,” I murmur, my mind already racing with ideas. Character designs, color palettes. “There are techniques I want to try for this project, but I don’t have everything I need. I’ll have to grab some better paints and brushes too.”
“That art supply store downtown.” My dad snaps his fingers. “What’s it called? Spilled Ink? Is it still open now?”
“Should be.” I check the time. “For another hour, maybe.”
Asher grins. “Then we should go now.”
I grin back, already excited at the idea. My mind is spinning with all the supplies I’ll need, the possibilities opening up. “Yeah, we should.”
My family nods in agreement, my mom standing up to shoo us toward the door. “Go, go. Have fun shopping! We’ll save you some coffee cake for next time.”
I grab my coat and say hasty goodbyes, swept along by the collective enthusiasm. Asher drives, his hands relaxed on the wheel as we navigate the quiet streets.
“This is amazing,” he says as we pull into the small parking lot. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Kat.”
“Thanks.” I’m still having trouble making it feel real. “This could really help establish me in the industry.”
Inside Spilled Ink, the bell chimes as we enter. The owner, Marjorie Gladwell, looks up from organizing a display, her face breaking into a warm smile.
“Kat! Good to see you!” She comes around the counter for a quick hug. She’s been running this store since I was a kid. “I heard you were back in town for the holidays.”
“I am. And actually…” I take a breath. “I just got a book contract. A series for Jones & Valen.”
Her face lights up. “Katherine Sanders, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!”
We move through the store, Marjorie pointing out items and making suggestions based on the project description I give her. When we get to the brush section, I stop in front of a set I’ve been coveting for years, gazing at them longingly.
“God, they’re gorgeous,” I murmur, reaching out to pick up a set of Kolinsky sable brushes with beautiful wooden handles.
The craftsmanship is incredible, each brush perfectly balanced.
I run my fingers over the smooth wood, testing the weight in my hand.
The bristles are a dream, the kind that hold their shape perfectly and have just the right amount of spring.
I’ve been drooling over brushes like these since I first started taking my art seriously, reading reviews online and watching YouTube videos of professional illustrators using them.
The price tag makes me wince though. Two hundred dollars for a set of six brushes. “I’ve always wanted to try them, but they’re so expensive.”
I turn them over in my hand one more time, admiring the way the light catches on the polished wood, then set them back down reluctantly. As much as I’d love to have them, I don’t really need them for this project. The mid-range brushes I picked out will work just fine.
But before I can step away and move on to looking at paper options, Asher picks up the brush set and adds it to his own basket.
“Asher, no.” I reach for them, trying to take them back out. “You don’t have to do that. I was just looking.”
“Are you kidding?” He holds the basket away from me with a grin that makes my stomach flip. “I’m about to buy out this entire store.”
I laugh at the exaggeration, but there’s something in his tone that makes it seem like he’s actually serious. Like he really would buy out the whole store if he thought it would help me succeed with this project.
“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, but I’m smiling.
“Maybe. But you’re stuck with me.”
The words hang in the air for a second, and I have to remind myself not to read too much into them. He means for the holidays, that’s all.
We finish gathering the new art supplies, and when we go to check out, Asher plucks my basket from my hands, telling Marjorie to ring it all up together.
She smirks, her gaze darting back and forth between us with hearts in her eyes as she does it.
The total makes my eyes widen, but Asher doesn’t even blink, just slides his card across the counter.
“You’re all set, honey,” Marjorie says as she bags everything carefully. “Come back and tell me how the project goes. I want to see the finished books when they come out.”
“I will. Thank you so much.”
We carry the bags out to the car and head back toward the cabin.
I’m giddy the whole way, unable to sit still.
My mind is awash with ideas, potential designs options taking shape, color palettes forming.
I can’t wait to start collaborating with the author, to read the book and let my imagination run wild.
“You’re bouncing,” Asher says, glancing over at me with amusement.
“I know. I can’t help it! I’m just so excited. This is everything I’ve been working toward.”
“You’re going to do amazing work. I know it.”
The certainty in his voice makes me swallow hard.
When we arrive back at the cabin, he helps me get everything inside, watching as I unpack my new supplies, arranging the inks by color family the way I always do.
Reds and oranges together, blues and greens, the earth tones in their own section.
I’m testing out one of the new brushes, feeling how it holds water, when I become aware of him still hovering behind me.
Not saying anything, just watching over my shoulder as I work.
“Asher,” I say, glancing back at him with a teasing smile.
He bites his lip, ducking his head a little. “Sorry. I just like watching you work. The way you organize everything, how focused you get. It’s interesting.”
“Well, I can’t concentrate with you looming over me like that.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. I’ll let you work in peace then.” But instead of leaving, he steps closer, bending down to nuzzle his face into my neck. His breath is warm against my skin, making me shiver. “Can I come back over and distract you later tonight?”
My pulse picks up. “What kind of distraction are we talking about?”
His voice drops lower, rough with promise. “The kind that ends with you on your back and my cock buried inside you. After all, we have two things to celebrate now. Your contract and mine.”
Heat sparks between my legs. “That sounds really good.”
“Yeah?” His lips brush against my neck.
“Yeah.”
He grins and finally straightens up, heading toward the door.
I watch him cross back to the guest house through the window, then turn back to my workspace.
I figure I’ll mess around with some brainstorming sketches for the commission—ideas for the woodland creatures the publisher mentioned in their notes.
A fox, maybe, or a rabbit. Different seasonal settings I might need to capture.
But as I gaze down at the blank page, my mind drifts to something else. Something that’s been taking shape in my thoughts for days now, growing clearer every time I close my eyes.
An illustration of Asher.
Not something I’ll ever show anyone else or try to sell. Not part of my portfolio or my professional work. Just a gift. A way to capture something I don’t quite have words for.
The moment is so vivid in my memory I can see it perfectly. Him on the ice at that outdoor rink, moving with natural grace and power that took my breath away.
Before I can second-guess myself or talk myself out of it, I start to sketch it out on the page.