Chapter 4 #2
“Is that all?” she prodded after a beat. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I heard. Vampire fangs and vaginas.”
“Oh, I might use that as a title. That’s sweet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Were you really just dictating while unpacking?”
She shrugged. “Do you have a problem with how I write my books?”
“No, I just have never met somebody who can do two things at once like that.”
“I’m a whiz at multitasking. I can also walk and chew gum at the same time, eat while watching television, and read while wearing a moisturizing mask on my face.”
“That sounds magical,” I said dryly.
Her lips curved up, but she didn’t laugh. “Should I take that to mean you can’t dictate while unpacking?”
“I can’t dictate at all.” Maybe that was why I was feeling so sour. “I’ve tried. I don’t talk like I type. It’s weird.”
“I don’t either.”
“I just heard you dictating.”
“A sex scene,” she said. “I dictate those and dialogue mostly. The sex scenes are generic. I block them in my mind, like a director might. I just get the basics out and then jazz them up when editing.”
I’d never really considered that.
“Trolls and elves don’t have sex in your world, right?” she prodded.
“I’m sure they do. I just don’t write about it.”
“Must be nice.” She leaned over, scooped up the lingerie, and tossed it into a box before straightening. “Do you need something specific?”
Do I? “I guess not,” I said. “I just wanted to drop that off. I was taking a break from words. You know, a walk. I decided to stop by while I was out, to kill two things off my list.”
“How practical,” she drawled, her lips curving.
“I’m a practical guy.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Bree rolled her neck back and forth.
I turned to leave. There was literally nothing else to say.
She spoke before I could disappear. “I didn’t know you lived here.”
I turned back. “How did you end up here?” She’d given me the opening. I was going to take it.
“It just sort of happened. I was looking for a new place to live. I wanted to leave snow behind. There’s little I loathe more than snow.”
“I feel that.” I tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.
“Savannah is one of my favorite cities. It was between here and New Orleans. The hurricanes were the tipping point.”
“We get hurricanes here,” I argued.
“Yeah, but not as many. Plus… I like the idea of a paranormal writer living in Savannah. I hate the marketing aspect of what we do. Between the cemeteries and the themed drinks here, most of my marketing will be easy.”
I rubbed my cheek. “I hate the marketing too. I don’t do a lot of it.”
“I try to be as generic as possible. Photos of my themed cocktails. I’ll do some tours here, some reader events.”
I stiffened. “Yes, you’re great at reader events.”
She smirked. “Don’t worry. I won’t be inviting you. I have the whole summer already lined up. My publisher is handling it. You don’t have to worry about me horning in on any of your stuff.”
She sounded haughty, and that only served to make me edgy.
“I have my promotions for the summer lined up too,” I said. She wasn’t the only one with a publisher backing her. “It’s the Summer Loving Author Tour. I’m booked multiple times a month the whole summer.”
She paled two shades. “What?”
The change in her demeanor threw me. “It’s not just for romance authors even though it’s called Summer Loving. It’s for any books the readers love.”
“I know what it is.” She shook her head. “That’s the tour I’m on.”
She had to be joking. “You’re not with my publisher.”
“No, but it’s not just one publisher. The event was created by four different publishers. It’s a way for them to share the cost and organizational burden.”
That was … something I hadn’t known. “How sure are you?”
“I know the name of the tour. I just signed on last week. My publisher jumped on it when they found out I was moving here. Apparently, they had an opening in the rotation and were very excited.”
I ran my tongue over my lips. “You could get out of it,” I said finally.
That seemed to raise her hackles. “Why would I possibly want to get out of it?”
“Because I signed on first.”
“Again, why would I possibly want to get out of it?”
“Because we hate each other.” How is this so confusing to her?
“I don’t hate you. I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.”
She was full of it. “I don’t want to have this argument with you. We don’t write the same thing. We shouldn’t be part of the same event.”
“You do realize readers can like more than one genre, don’t you?” she challenged.
“I’m not saying they can’t. I’m saying you and I have nothing in common and shouldn’t be on the same tour together.”
“I don’t know. I had so much fun last time we were at the same event.”
Bree was messing with me. She was enjoying it too.
“Listen—”
She cut me off with a shake of her head. “I need to get back to work. I have a book deadline coming up, and the move took more time than I was anticipating. I have to get cracking.”
“We should talk about this,” I insisted.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. Can’t you just suck it up?”
The last thing I wanted to do was suck anything up. “Can’t you just get out of it?”
“No. If you want to get out of it, go nuts. I follow through when I say I’m going to do something, though.” Her tone told me the conversation was over.
“I’ll be in touch with the final bill.” I was vibrating with rage as I turned to leave.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure you will.”