Chapter 24 #2
“What?” I asked, turning the phone back to me to see if anything new had come through.
It was only our already exchanged texts.
The most recent one literally just said fruit salad .
The previous texts that he would’ve been able to see were me apologizing and telling her I had been drunk and how I said stupid things when I was drunk.
Those probably reminded him of my drunken voicemail, of my chaotic nature.
“You ready to see your website?” he asked.
Maybe that’s why his expression had changed—he was nervous. I tucked my hands under my thighs and focused on the screen. “Should I be scared? You have a very intense look on your face.”
“I’ve been told I have RBF.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have not. Your default is golden retriever.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means you’re adorable and ready to please.”
“I am,” he said in a scratchy voice that my body was fond of.
His finger dropped onto the return key and my brain was not ready for what popped onto the screen.
I let out a sharp gasp. The website header was a backlit man, the shadows in front of him spelling out my agency name like we’d talked about.
His features were too dark to make out any details, just like I knew they would be.
But he looked amazing. His chest, despite the shadows, defined and muscular.
The messy bed shone bright behind him, and images of being in that bed with him rushed into my mind along with the emotions attached to them.
“You hate it?” he asked.
“No… I…” I tried to slow down my racing heart, the throbbing between my legs, with two deep breaths and said airily, “You did all this after I left?”
“Yes. I had some energy I needed to burn off,” he said, that sparkle returning to his eyes. “You didn’t?”
“Wish you would’ve done this while I was still there.” I nodded toward the shirtless pic.
He let out a throaty laugh. “Then you like it?”
“It’s definitely worth a coffee, maybe two.”
“I have an option with just the bed too,” he said.
“No, I like half-naked men,” I teased. “And so will the rest of the world.”
“Right,” he said, his voice tight.
“No, but really. It’s great.” I studied his face.
His unreadable expression was back. “You didn’t…
I hope I didn’t… Did you feel guilted into doing that?
If so, just the bed is fine. I don’t want you to…
” Feel pressured into putting yourself online was how I almost finished that sentence, but instead I trailed off, letting him fill that in however he wanted.
“No, I didn’t. The more I looked at the empty image with just the bed, the more I realized you were right. A person would make it more compelling. And after I took some practice shots, I knew you were also right about nobody being able to tell it is me.”
“Yes, I like this trend of recognizing I’m right about things.”
“And you’re still happy with the rest of the site?” He clicked on a few tabs to show me they worked and where each one navigated to.
“So happy,” I said.
“Here’s that query form we talked about.”
“Perfect,” I said. “You are amazing.”
Again, my phone buzzed on the coffee table, and we both turned toward the screen. I thought it would be another text from my sister deciding I needed more specific instructions than Fruit and Tray, but it wasn’t. It was from Rob.
Did you get the contract? it read. At the top of my screen, Rob’s name had a little fire emoji next to it. Shit. I’d forgotten to change that to devil horns. I growled.
“Margot.” Oliver said my name like a sigh or a whisper.
One of those would indicate frustration, the other adoration, and I couldn’t decipher which one he intended.
His hand was on the couch cushion by my leg and I shifted so that our skin touched, the back of his knuckles rough against the underside of my thigh.
His fingers may as well have been made of hot coals the way heat poured down my calf and my cheeks instantly flushed.
The front door swung open and Sloane walked in with two plastic bags, trailed by Miles, who had two bags of his own.
“Oliver, I’m so glad you’re here. I have enough Chinese food to feed a football team and not enough mouths to eat it.” She nodded over her shoulder. “This is Miles, by the way.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Oliver said, his hand shifting away from my thigh.
“Why so much food?” I asked.
“The office bought it for lunch yesterday, and since I had to swing by the office today, the leftovers became mine.” Sloane stopped short of the coffee table on her way toward the kitchen.
“Holy shit! Is that your website? That looks hot. Who is… Wait, is that…?” Sloane stepped closer, leaning over to get a better look.
“It’s a random image from a stock photo site that I paid for.” I tried not to say the words too quickly or too defensively. I had promised Oliver I wouldn’t tell Sloane, and considering how much work he had done for me, I was going to fulfill my end of the bargain.
“I thought you were being extra frugal.”
“I really am.”
“Well, it was worth it.” She squinted at the screen. “You decided on heart , the word, not Hart your name?”
My eyes went back to the screen and sure enough, in my distraction over Oliver’s naked torso, I hadn’t noticed the shadow spelled H-E-A-R-T instead of H-A-R-T. “Oh, yeah, I meant my last name,” I said to Oliver.
“Your last name?” he asked.
“Hart.”
“Your last name is Hart?” he asked.
I smiled with the realization that he didn’t know my last name, that I didn’t know his. “It is. What’s yours?”
“Gray,” he said somewhat distractedly, because he was changing the spelling of heart on his computer.
Oliver Gray. That was a good name.
“Well, your website looks amazing,” Sloane said. “You really leaned into your romance branding with this.”
“You don’t think it’s too much?” I asked, suddenly second-guessing myself.
“Do you think it’s too much?” Oliver asked me.
“It’s perfect.” Sloane said. “It should open the floodgates of romance authors looking for representation.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and nodded.
Sloane gave the image another scrutinizing stare and then turned to face me. “Wait, does this mean it’s official? Your website is out in the world and the requests are going to come pouring in?”
“All she has to do is push the publish button,” Oliver said. He hovered the arrow over that button but then backed away, leaving the final action for me.
I looked around the room, where each set of eyes seemed to be frozen in anticipation. And then I pushed publish. I was officially an agent.