Chapter 25 Small Gestures
Chapter 25
small gestures
“So, that’s her final decision? She doesn’t even need to talk to me first?” Summer asked, so much emotion bubbling up to the surface, first from the ride home and then from this amazing news, she was afraid her cork would pop.
“Nope. Her mind is made up,” Cleo said. She was kicked back in the office chair, with her feet on the desk, cleaning her fingernails with a pocket knife. “Her decision is final.”
“I thought she’d at least want to talk to me first, discuss the details.”
“I guess your email did all the talking she needed because Sloan Chase is going to be signing her new release right here, at All Things Cupid.”
“Oh my god!” Summer clapped her hands over her mouth in utter disbelief, excitement causing her to bounce on the balls of her toes. “It’s really happening?”
“There are a few terms and demands in her contract,” Cleo went on.
“Contract?” That sounded so official. She’d never signed a contract with an author before. Then again, this was Sloan Chase.
Summer had just made an agreement with Wes that she wanted to desperately amend. Now, the idea of signing on an official dotted line for her career was so overwhelming her body didn’t know which emotion to feel. What if she regretted the terms she agreed to? What if Sloan wanted to change them but it was too late?
“Are you going to puke on me? I know how your gag reflex just loves to fuck with my life. So, I’d like to remind you I’m wearing my new biker jacket. If you puke on me, you’re puking on the whole biker gang, and they don’t take lightly to outsiders blowing chunks on their property.”
“I’m not going to throw up.”
“Ah shit. Then it’s tears.” Cleo scratched the inside of her wrist like she was breaking out in hives. She stood and puffed her chest out. “Here, puke on me instead. It’ll be less painful. For the both of us.”
“I’m not going to puke or cry. I just want to know what I’m agreeing to.”
“Little things, like she needs a green room to relax in between events.”
“Events? As in plural?”
“She agreed to do the podcast with a live audience first, take a break, and then come back for the signing.”
“My podcast?”
“Just think of how many listeners it will bring. We’re talking maybe ten thousand.”
That’s what Summer was afraid of. Not the new listeners and potential slew of new customers. That would be a dream come true. It was the pressure to be perfect that she’d battled her entire life that was making a tsunami in her stomach. What if she blanked? What if she was so star-struck she babbled on? There were so many what-ifs her brain went into overload.
“Nope. Don’t you dare spiral on me,” Cleo said firmly. “Do you know how much time I’ve spent on this event?”
“Um, exactly five minutes, because that’s how long we’ve known about it.” Cleo remained mum on the subject. “Right?”
“I may have called her publicist’s assistant, and from one assistant to another we had a long chat. Where I may or may not have brought up the fact that there is a customer who is terminal.”
It was the truth. Every Wednesday the Bosom Buddies, all women with breast cancer, met at the shop for their book club and support meeting. But to use their disease as an ace up your sleeve? “Cleo, that’s low even for you.”
“FYI, I asked the group if they minded that I used their struggle and support to help attract such a big author, and you know what they did? They preordered the woman’s book and said use away. But Sloan’s assistant told me in confidence that they were already going to say yes to the event.”
“So locking down Sloan was all on me?”
“All on you, sister. Your email must have really touched her. Because she could sign anywhere in the world and she chose here.”
Summer felt a burst of pride and gratitude in her belly, making her dizzy with excitement. “I had a friend help me,” she said, thinking back to the car ride home, when she’d drafted the email and Wes had encouraged her to go personal, really encouraging her to pull from her personal life and go with emotion not facts. Although, being the consummate numbers guy, he did throw in a few hard numerical facts about their customer base and the store’s long history in the romance community.
Summer scanned the contract and it was like reading an encyclopedia—extensive and complicated. Then she got to the last page and nearly hyperventilated.
“She wants me to spend five thousand dollars of my own money promoting this?”
“Which wouldn’t be a problem if Autumn had paid you back.”
“It’s a problem either way.” She’d never spent more than a few hundred bucks promoting an author signing. She mainly hung flyers around town, mentioned it on her podcast, and sent out an email to her loyal customers. “I’d have to dig into my wedding fund.” More like drain it.
“Before you keel over on me, let’s focus on the solutions not the problem. First off, the green room will be easy.”
Summer plopped into the chair facing the desk as if she were the guest in this situation and her mind was racing with solutions. “We can just use the staff room and turn it into a spa-like haven. As for the podcast. We’ll have to sell tickets ahead of time to limit going over the official capacity and having someone call the fire marshal.”
“You mean like Sir Crumpet?”
Summer’s face heated. She couldn’t believe she used to call him that. Of course, it was before she knew him, but still. How prejudiced she’d been, assuming that he was the bad guy in what was just a shitty situation. “He would never call the fire marshal on me, and we should probably stop referring to him by that name.”
Cleo studied Summer with narrowed eyes. “You slept with him. You actually slept with the enemy.” It was a statement not a question. Summer was about to deliver a speech she’d prepared on the way over to defend Wes and herself when Cleo said, “Was it hot? Oh, yeah, that sex-dazed look tells me it was. Did he get the job done?”
Summer just smiled a mischievous smile.
“Yeah, his BDE is so big he nearly made me toss out my vibrator the first time I saw him.” She leaned forward on the desk, resting on her elbows. “We talking home run or grand slam?”
Summer actually heard herself sigh. “Out of the ballpark.”
“The vibrators of the world thank His Royal Highness. He has no idea how many vibrators he’s prevented from working in a sweat shop.”
“I’m not that bad,” Summer said defensively. Cleo lifted a brow. “Okay, fine, maybe I had a little problem. But sex with men never felt like they write about it in novels.”
“And he’s novel-worthy?”
Summer leaned forward. “Babe, he’s Guide -worthy.”
“Then why do you seem so conflicted? I mean, don’t get me wrong, your hair is sticking up in the back, you have no foundation on around your mouth, and your eyes seem a little crazy like you had a quickie in the parking lot, but you also seemed lost.”
Summer released a dreamy breath. “He’s moving back to London and doesn’t believe in long-distance relationships.”
“And new boy Asher last night didn’t think he had the core strength to do the Betty Rocker, but he lasted nearly an hour. Men just need the right stimulation and, pow , they’re on their knees begging to give you what you deserve. And last night I deserved a little Face-Off 69 action. What do you deserve, Summer?”
Wasn’t that the question of the hour. A month ago she would have said she deserved a quiet, dog-owning man who was into stimulating conversations and walks on the beach. Now she wanted a straight-laced, alpha male with Big Dick Energy who drove her crazy—in and out of bed.
Now that they’d opened the floodgates, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves. They’d even pulled over on an abandoned road and done a little rocking action of their own—twice. But then they’d arrived back in Ridgefield and he’d given her a quick peck and disappeared into his lair. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
“Okay, if that’s too hard of a concept—not surprising after the dickheads you’ve dated—then what do you want?”
“More than a quick sendoff smooch before he heads into work, but not so much that I get distracted from my goal of making this the most famous romance bookshop in the world.”
“What did he say he wanted?”
“About the same.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Summer dropped her head to her hands. “I’m pretty sure he’s already distracting me.” She took a deep breath and met Cleo’s gaze head-on. At least she had the courage to face her friend after she’d thrown her under the bus. “I told him about the signing.”
Cleo shot up to a stand. “You did what? Why?”
“Because it felt wrong to keep it from him. And if I win I want to do it the honorable way. Not by playing some kind of game.”
“But the element of surprise is the only thing we had on our side, she says to David concerning Goliath.”
“That’s not true. We have enough grit and determination on our side.”
“I’m sure he’s sitting in his five-thousand-dollar ergonomically correct chair, checking the minutes on his Rolex until your shop goes under.”
“He’s not like that,” she argued. “Maybe once upon a time he was, but that guy is gone. He’s really an amazing, caring, reliable, and honest man, Cleo.”
Cleo sank back into her chair and exhaled slowly and painfully. “I had a feeling he was.”
Summer placed her hand over her heart. “He called me his .”
“Damn, I love a possessive streak in a man. But this ruins my entire story I made up about his silver-spoon childhood.”
“He isn’t that either, and his story is heartbreaking.”
Cleo rolled her eyes so hard her brow piercing nearly popped out. “If you say so. Just don’t fuck this whole thing up with getting you feeling so involved you stop putting yourself first. Because when you agree to this signing you are putting it all on the line.”
Weren’t those Wes’s exact words to her?
“What do you mean?”
Cleo pulled out a file with a fifteen-page printed contract in it with sticky notes, highlighted lines, and notes in the margin. “I looked it over a time or two, had Asher look it over, but his specialty is real-estate law, so you need to read it before you get back to them. Maybe even hire a third party.”
Summer’s stomach went sour with uncertainty. She didn’t know the first thing about contracts, and hiring someone meant spending money she didn’t have. Then Wes with all his podcast wisdom popped into her head, and she knew he’d understand the document. Or if he didn’t, he’d definitely refer her to someone who would.
“I know a guy,” she said without revealing said guy’s name.
“Does he look like the dark, dangerous Duke of Loafers? Because if so, he’s the first guest to arrive for the podcast.”
Summer turned around and her breath caught. Standing against the back wall, leaning on his big shoulder, was Wes. He’d lost the tie and suit jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up above his elbow. His hair looked mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it, and his eyes looked tired. She knew he’d had a meeting with the board today and hoped it had gone in his favor. But his drawn expression told her that it hadn’t.
Without saying goodbye to Cleo, Summer raced out the office and over to Wes. Before he could get a word out she kissed the hell out of him. It made Autumn and Randy’s exploits look like hand-holding.
He let out a long sigh and his hands slid over her ass and into her back pockets, jerking her against his hard body. They didn’t stop until they both needed oxygen.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. Right now, I want to say good luck on your podcast and just know I’ll be here cheering you on.”
“You left work early to see my podcast?”
He cupped her cheek. “I left early to see you.” His eyes went over her shoulder. “And why is your employee pointing a switchblade at me?”
“That’s her way of saying hi.”
“Somehow I didn’t expect tonight’s topic would be based around the feminist view of Jane Eyre ,” Mable said.
“Cleo kind of hijacked the podcast,” Summer said. “She wanted to do a parallel book talk.”
“Well, it worked. Everyone was entertained and felt like they were a part of everything going on.”
The podcast had been packed. Not a spare seat in the house. And Cleo had been right, not only had the entire audience bought both books and read them, they’d been excited to compare the two books and talk about what Bertha in the attic symbolized. They’d also bought other books while they waited for the podcast recording to start.
Summer had strategically placed Cleo at the front door, organizing them in a line that zigzagged through the aisles, so people could peruse while waiting to be seated. Summer had walked up and down the aisle welcoming everyone and inquiring about what kind of romance they liked, then coming up with a suggestion to match their favorite trope or genre. It was a genius idea and it had been all hers.
The excitement from hearing back from Sloan Chase’s publicist had given her a bump of confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time. And maybe it also had something to do with the handsome, noble man who’d stood in the back, smiling at her as if she were the most entertaining and beautiful woman on the planet. He’d even winked at her once or twice, which had made her belly flutter.
She hadn’t expected him to stay for the entire thing, but he’d stood there, stoic as ever, a proud smile on his face. And all that pride was for her—jump-starting an emotion that felt new and refreshing and something she wanted to experience every day.
He’d even waited until she’d locked up the shop so he could walk her home. Even though the stairs to her apartment were around the back, they walked slowly, making the most of every second.
The night sky was inky with a silver glow from the full moon. A gentle breeze spun around them and he slid his jacket over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“No one’s ever called me sweet before.”
“That’s because no one knows the real you.” She took his hand. “Not like I do.” She started swinging their arms as they walked up the concrete steps side by side.
Summer’s apartment was a small three-bedroom, one-bath, with all of the original floors and fixtures from the forties when it was built. Black-and-white tile laid on the diagonal, arched entryways, and a reading nook in the front window—which was all leaded glass and cast rainbows across the room, filling every cranny with brilliant colors.
This was the apartment her grandparents first moved to when they’d bought the shop. It was the place where her mom was born, where Autumn and Summer had spent part of their childhood. And it was the place where the two had moved into when they’d graduated high school. There were so many memories and so much history tied to this place, Summer never wanted to leave.
She’d thought Autumn felt the same, but that had been wishful thinking. What was the reality? That they could both get married, have kids, and still share the apartment? It was nothing more than a silly plan made by a silly little girl who’d never imagined a reason good enough to be separated from her twin.
Well, that wish would be snuffed out as soon as Autumn packed her stuff and moved down to New York to start her new life with her new love. A reality Summer was trying really hard to come to terms with.
Wes gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thinking about Autumn?”
“A little.” He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, a lot. How did you know?”
“I guess I know you better than you think I do. Which makes us both lucky.”
Summer pulled her key out of her purse and put it in the lock, but couldn’t seem to turn it. She dropped her head against the wood and felt tears fill her eyes. “I was just thinking that this is the first time I’ve come home alone and Autumn won’t be here. Like ever again. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”
His arms came around her from behind and he pulled her against his chest and whispered, “I know. When my mom died I dreaded going back in the house because I knew it was the first page of my new chapter. A chapter without her in it.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen. A first-year at university.”
“And your dad didn’t offer for you to come out and live with him?”
“I didn’t want anything from him. And I still don’t. If it weren’t for Randy I would have let the board have the company. But now that they’re trying to take it away, they’ve awakened the beast. I will maintain control of BookLand until I decide I’ve done what I need to do for Randy. Plus, it was my mom’s dream for me to get my birthright, so I think she’d be proud of me moving here and what I’m doing.” He curled his body around her. “You’ll find your way too.”
“It’s not the same. I mean, I’m not losing her forever like you did with your mom,” she said quietly.
“But it’s the death of a dream, of how you imagined your future.”
She turned in his arms and didn’t bother to hide the emotion in her eyes. And when she looked up at him, her first tear fell. “Thank you for understanding. My family is so over the moon about the engagement my dad is the only one who took the time to think of how it would affect me. And I don’t want to sound selfish, this is a big moment for her—I guess I just dreamed I’d be more a part of it. At least meet the guy before they became official.”
He took his thumb and caught a tear with the pad. “Not to sound selfish, but if it had gone down any other way I wouldn’t be standing here with the most beautiful woman in my arms.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his heart and let the calm rhythm soothe her. He rested his chin on top of her head and let out a deep, contented sigh.
“I know you have your doubts about my brother, but I have seen him grow so much since meeting Autumn. He might not be the most responsible guy and his follow-through is questionable, but I really think he is deeply in love with your sister.”
“Thank you for that,” she said, releasing him to unlock the door. Once the key turned she opened it and stepped one foot inside the entry and took his hand. “Do you want to come in?”
“And see where you live? Yes.”
“I was hoping you’d want to see where I sleep. Although I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep tonight.”