Chapter 4
JACK
I’ve already put Bunny’s box of supplies in the truck and I’m waiting for him in the living room when he bounds down the stairs and throws his arms around me.
“Thank you for coming with me, Jack,” he mumbles into my neck. “This means a lot to me. Really, it does.”
I’d been mentally grumbling to myself about how excruciating I expect this to be, but Bunny’s effusive gratitude catches me by surprise. “Uh-huh. Are you ready to go?” I’d say more, but there’s a weird prickly feeling in the back of my throat.
When I look him up and down after he steps back from the embrace, though, a thought hits me. “Is that what you’re wearing?” I nod towards his white button-down and the dark-blue jeans he breaks out for special occasions.
“Well, I didn’t put this on just to sit around the house,” he says, sounding amused.
I feel my lip curl. “Don’t be a smartass.” I surreptitiously sneak a glance down at myself, evaluating my plaid shirt and cargo pants. Bunny’s lips quirk up and I glower at him, daring him to say something.
When we get into my truck ten or so minutes later, I feel Bunny’s eyes on me. I changed into a dark-red button-down and black jeans, and I stood for longer than I’d like to admit in front of the bathroom mirror, debating my hair: Ponytail, bun or just leave it down? I settled on the bun.
Bunny’s hair is in a ponytail. It’s so cute I can’t resist reaching over and giving it a tug. “You’re ogling me,” I tease.
He shrugs. “You’re hot. I can’t help it.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Dumb bunny,” I mutter, but a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when I see the glow in his eyes.
When we get to the store, I give Bunny a hand carrying his shit inside and then help him set everything up. We’re accompanied by a short redhead who’s apparently Olivia and a tall woman with black hair and bright purple glasses named Gina who’s her friend or assistant or something.
Olivia introduces herself first, slipping a cool, dry hand into mine. “Addy told me so much about you! It’s really nice to meet you.”
I snort. “You sure about that?”
Olivia looks surprised for a blink before cracking a grin. “You’re funny.”
That’s actually not true, but it doesn’t seem worth an argument, so I just let out a hum.
Bunny’s given name sounds strange in her mouth.
It’s also weird seeing Adair Stanton, Illustrator printed on the banner I hold while Gina tapes it to the front of a long folding table.
“Thanks for the help,” she says afterwards, giving me an overly-bright smile.
“Yeah.” I give her a nod and get the hell away from the table, where people are starting to gather.
I had assumed that since it was being held in a bookstore, this event of Bunny’s would be like being in a library. As in, relatively quiet.
I was dead wrong. I sure did not expect all the squealing. Hopefully I’ve got a bottle of ibuprofen stashed in the console of my truck, because at this point, I’m definitely going to leave here with a fucking headache.
I scan the room. There are clusters of people milling around, while others form a line that trails almost all the way to the front door.
I’m not thrilled to be surrounded by a crowd for the next two hours.
But I am glad for Bunny’s sake that apparently a lot of people like…
whatever it is that Olivia writes. I think it’s that werewolf smut he likes. Figure I’m better off not knowing.
“Are you here for the book signing? Is this the line?” After a moment, I realize the question is directed at me and look down. A brunette who looks about Bunny’s age flutters long eyelashes at me.
“Uh, not exactly.” I take a step back. “I’m not on line.”
The woman pushes her lower lip out into a pout. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d get to stand next to you for the next fifteen minutes.”
“Nope.” I shrug. She looks at me for a minute like she expects me to say more; when I don’t, she makes her way over to the line.
“Is this the end of the line?” Can’t be more than a few minutes later. I groan inwardly. This one has blond hair in a tight ponytail and eye makeup that gives her a vaguely feline appearance.
“No.”
Like the last one, she blinks at me for a few seconds, then cocks her head and gives me a little smile. “Um, do you know where it is?”
Jesus Christ. “Over there.” I nod in the direction of the not-at-all-hard-to-notice line. She looks like she’s going to say something else. My brows lower into a frown.
I must be in the way. Sure as hell don’t want to play tour guide for the next two hours, so I park myself at the coffee shop that takes up one wall of the bookstore. I can still see Bunny from my new vantage point.
A little while later, a young woman with bright pink hair catches my eye as she zigzags through the crowd, making a beeline for the table.
When she turns, the glimpse I get of her face gives me a spark of recognition: She used to be Bunny’s co-worker when he worked mornings at the coffee shop in town.
Bunny’s face lights up when he notices her.
I see him scanning the crowd, so I’m already making my way towards them by the time he spots me and waves me over.
A couple of the women I pass give me a sort of side-eye I can’t read; a few blatantly look me up and down, which strikes me as funny.
Do I look like somebody they’d want to talk to?
I’m not the only one to notice. “You’re sure attracting a lot of attention,” Bunny says with a smirk.
“Unfortunately,” I grumble.
“I never actually introduced you to Gigi, did you? She was working with me that day when you came in to bring me my phone.”
“Nice to officially meet you,” she says with a grin as she sticks out her hand. “You sure did make an impression that day. You were the topic of conversation for, oh, a solid fifteen, twenty minutes.”
I snort as Gigi continues talking to Bunny. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer! I just wanted to come by and tell you congrats and good luck and all of that.”
“I’m gonna go sit back down,” I tell him, but I’m not quick enough. As Gigi departs, another woman takes her autographed book back from Olivia and turns her attention to Bunny — and me.
“Hi! You’re Adair?”
“Yep!” Bunny turns on a big smile. I don’t know how he just does that.
“It’s so awesome getting to meet you! I love your covers. I think I have every single one!” she gushes. I think I’m in the clear — until her attention turns to me. Son-of-a-bitch. “Is this…” I groan inwardly at the question in her inflection.
“Jack,” he introduces me. “He’s here to carry heavy things and be moral support. Not necessarily in that order.” The woman giggles and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’m gonna sit back down,” I say for the second time as I beat feet back to the coffee shop. I’m really happy for him that his art is so popular, but I never want to do this again as long as I live.