Chapter 15 #2
Joey’s forehead crease would have made me laugh if I hadn’t felt like a caged animal.
The only way out of my current predicament was to climb over the booth seat at Hayley’s table and escape down a second aisle.
Hayley was currently up at the bar with three of her readers, lost in her own little world.
There was no stopping Joey from moving to that aisle to block my way if I opted for that route.
If he did that, odds were I would panic.
That was not a look I wanted to put on display at an event like this.
I was still debating my options, one ear trained on the stilted conversation between an annoyed Joey and an oblivious Andrew, when someone appeared on the other side of Hayley’s table. Brody, his cheeks flushed with … something, snagged gazes with me.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “I wondered where you went. There are readers waiting to talk to you about that trilogy you’re planning.”
It was a very specific comment, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he held out his hand to me.
“Come on.” He urged me to climb over the booth, as I’d been considering. “They want to talk to both of us.”
In that moment, I recognized exactly what he was doing. I didn’t need a hero. I wasn’t a book character. Or if I was a character, I was the sort who could save herself. I didn’t write damsels in distress. I wrote self-rescuing princesses. And Brody was still trying to save me.
I could have pitched a fit or pushed past Joey, but something inside warned me that was a terrible idea. He was a short-fuse guy. How did I know that? I wasn’t certain. It felt true, and that was enough for me.
I made up my mind on the spot and took Brody’s hand. He steadied me as I made the climb, and once I was on the other side of the table—my body pressed against Brody’s because he hadn’t moved away when I landed—I felt infinitely better.
His hands moved over my arms to bolster me, his gaze searching.
The fear I’d felt only moments before, the bone-deep anxiety that had spiked out of nowhere, was gone.
He didn’t ask me if I was okay. That would have been an obvious slap at Joey, and he was clearly trying to avoid that.
There was a question in his eyes, though.
“I was just heading over,” I assured him. “I need another drink, then we’ll do the thing.” His excuse to claim me had been weak, but I was committed to the lie now.
He smiled. “Right. Let’s get you a drink.” He put his hand to the small of my back and ushered me toward the bar.
Joey called out to stop us. “I came over here to talk to Bree.” He sounded like a petulant child.
Brody’s gaze skimmed over Joey, lingered on Andrew a beat longer, then moved away from both of them. “We’ll be up at the bar.” His tone was flat and dismissive. He didn’t look over his shoulder as he led me away.
“Thank you,” I said under my breath as we walked. It was slow going thanks to all the readers littered about in small clumps. “I don’t know why that guy keeps showing up.”
Brody didn’t respond. He just kept herding me. Only after we were almost past the bar did I realize Brody was directing me toward the front door.
“Wait.” Confusion had me glancing over my shoulder. “Where are we going?”
Brody didn’t answer. He just kept nudging me closer to the exit.
Right before we reached his obvious destination, he was waylaid—Blair Bernstein, the superfan, was back.
Fortunately, I hadn’t seen her all evening.
Knowing she was there have been the crappy frosting on top of the dry cupcake that was this event.
Her pink fuzzy sweater, so out of place in the Savannah humidity, momentarily had my gaze glazing.
“There you are.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Brody. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
Now Brody did respond, although it looked as if it took some effort. “I just need to get some air. Bree and I are going to have a quick discussion. Then I’ll be back.”
“But… we were talking.” Blair gave me a dirty look as if I were the one who was ruining her plan. “We still have eight bullet points to go over.” She held up a notebook, telling me she really did have bullet points.
“I’ll be right back,” Brody assured her. “I just need a five-minute break, then I’m all yours.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he gave me a more insistent shove toward the door.
I didn’t fight him. This time, it felt as if he was the one who needed saving.
I allowed him to lead me out the door, figuring he would stop once we were on the sidewalk.
He didn’t, though. He kept herding me toward the side of the building, the one opposite from the patio.
Once we turned the corner, I fixed him with an expectant look.
My heart clogged in my throat when I saw the look in his eyes.
He was on fire. Not literally or anything because that would have been really weird outside of one of my books.
He just looked … alert and as if something inside him was burning.
What was strange was that I felt as if something inside me was burning as well.
On this side of the building, it was just the two of us. He didn’t say anything. He just kept nudging until my back was against the wall. Then he swooped in close.
His mouth was only three inches from mine as he searched my eyes. There was a question there. Is this okay? He was looking for consent.
It was a terrible idea. I already knew that. But I couldn’t fight it. Obviously, he couldn’t either. I nodded because not nodding wasn’t an option. Not in this moment.
That was enough for him. The air caught fire between us. When his lips touched mine, explosions went off in the back of my brain. Nothing had ever felt so right. That was the excuse I told myself as I lost myself to the moment.
Nothing else mattered. There was only him and me in this strange new bubble world. I was damned well going to take advantage of it.