CHAPTER 35 BOWER #2
“I’m sorry. I was just so excited, and they were a part of the whole plan to get you to like me, and since it worked, I wanted to tell them how we succeeded.”
“When you put it like that, it makes me look bad,” I say, irritated all over again about this stupid plan he conducted.
“It doesn’t make her look great. Sort of like she was played.”
“Thank you,” I say, gesturing to Gretchen.
“It wasn’t like that,” Bennett pleads. “Please, let’s not go through this again. You know it was because I was desperate to get you to see me, nothing else.”
He’s right—his attempt at wooing me—that’s how I will refer to it.
“Either way, you told them?” Gretchen confirms.
Bennett nods. “I did.”
“Do they understand that what you told them is private information and that it’s not to be repeated, and did you highlight that fact with OC?”
“They know whatever we talk about in the group stays in the group,” Bennett says.
She eyes Bennett. “Do you want me to check with OC just in case?”
“No, I think he understands.”
Gretchen purses her lips. “I’ll check with him.”
She whips out her phone and starts texting.
When she’s done, she turns back to us and says, “Now that that is settled—” She pauses when her phone buzzes.
She looks down at her screen, reads a text that I’m sure is from OC, and then rolls her eyes, muttering, “He’s such a fucking idiot.
” She quickly types away and then puts her phone in her bag.
“Is he good?” Bennett asks, looking concerned now. “Did he tell someone?”
“No. He’s just…you know how he is in text messages.”
“And in person,” Bennett adds.
“Yes, you’re right about that.” Clearing her throat, she looks between us with the cold, hard stare of a woman on a mission. “So why am I here?”
“We want to talk about the book club,” Bennett says. “From what you’ve said, there has been a lot of interest.”
“A lot, to the point that I want to hire a social media manager for it because we have traction, but we’re not capitalizing on it.”
“I can do it,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Really?” Bennett asks, surprised. “I don’t want you to have to take on more work.”
“I can handle it while I’m running errands in the car. Plus, I already have experience since I’ve been posting my own quick book reviews. It wouldn’t be much different.”
“Great, then that’s settled,” Gretchen says.
“Wait.” Bennett turns to me. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I say. “And when the time comes, I can start doing collab posts with The Whimsy Wagon.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” Gretchen says. “We were able to skirt by this month without a bookstore to work with, but to really get the community involved, we’ll need to have it up and ready by next month, or we don’t have a deal and will have to work with someone else.”
“I’m not working with anyone else,” Bennett says.
“Well, we can’t wait that long either. What you need to understand about social media is that you have to capitalize when you start to trend, and right now, we’re sitting ducks. We don’t have any content, we don’t have community involvement, we don’t—”
“I can handle it,” I say. “I can, uh…I can set up a small in-person, ticketed event with Bennett. We can find a venue and celebrate our first book club night. I can theme it out and have a lot of fun with it, and we can announce the partnership then as well.” My mind starts to race with all the ideas.
“We can make it baseball themed and intimate.”
“We’ll have to have security present,” Gretchen says.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“And I’d say twenty people at the most, VIP bags, no drinks.
We can’t have fans getting rowdy, but we can serve mocktails.
VIP bags should consist of the book—try to get signed copies from the author—a gift card to The Whimsy Wagon for next month’s pick, maybe some NSFW art print, and one of Bennett’s favorite things.
Like a snack. We should try to find local small businesses to sponsor the event as well for the swag, reach out and we can use it as a promotional tactic—” She pauses and looks at me. “Why aren’t you writing this down?”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, pulling my phone out and taking notes, writing as fast as I can to keep up with her.
It takes about fifteen minutes of Gretchen rattling off a laundry list of things to do for the event as well as creating invitations, establishing the venue, and deadlines she needs to be met before she gathers her things and is out of Bennett’s apartment.
When he shuts the door, he turns to me, concern in his eyes as I stand and grab my bag.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I need to get started on this. I need to figure out when the truck is going to be done at the wrap shop, and I need to start ordering books and swag. I have no time.”
“Whoa, slow down,” he says, gripping my shoulders. “Bower, this is so much work. Let me help you.”
I shake my head. “No. I got it. You have other things you need to worry about.” I head toward his front door, but he grabs me by the hand.
“Bower, seriously.”
I turn to him and rest my hand on his chest, looking him in the eyes.
How I didn’t see the adoration in his eyes before now is beyond me.
He is one of the good ones. His concern is always for me.
“Let me just get a head start on this, okay? My mind is racing and I need to get organized. I have no doubt I can get it done, but I have shoddy notes and a million things rolling around in my head. I need some quiet time to mesh it all together.”
He nods in understanding, thankfully.
“Can I bring you dinner?”
“Let me see how it goes.” I grip his chin and pull him down for a kiss, his lips lingering for a moment before I move past him. “I’ll text you.”
And then I’m gone.
Okay…so I haven’t texted him.
Not because I haven’t wanted to, but I haven’t had a moment to stop to think.
My phone buzzes again and I pick it up finally to see a few texts from Bennett.
Bennett: You hungry?
Bennett: Why don’t you take a break for a second and we can grab something to eat?
Bennett: Babe, I know you’re stressed, but it will help to just take a second to breathe.
Bennett: Bower…
I’m about to text him back when there’s a knock at my door.
Guilt washes through me as I get up from my couch, pushing past my notebook and crumpled notes. When I open the door, Bennett is on the other side with a grocery bag of food in hand.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I let him in.
He winks at me and leans in to kiss me before heading into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it. Do you mind if I cook you some dinner?”
“Mind? Are you kidding me? That sounds like a dream. Do you mind if I keep working?”
“Not as long as you work topless.”
Crossing my arms and jutting my hip, I say, “Okay, but you have to cook topless.”
“Already planned on it, babe,” he says before pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it to the floor. My hungry eyes roam his chest, my mouth watering from the thought of dancing my fingers over every hard contour of his torso.
Even though I had more sex last night than I did in an entire year, I don’t feel like I got my fill. I need more of him.
“Work isn’t going to get done if you’re staring.” Then he motions a finger at me. “Off with the shirt, beautiful.”
I guess a deal is a deal. I remove my shirt and toss it with his, leaving me in a lavender lace bra.
I turn from him, only for him to clear his throat.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Yeah, I said topless.”
“And I took my shirt off. That’s topless to me.”
“That’s not topless to me,” he says. “Want to see those tits.”
“These aren’t for free,” I say, motioning to my breasts. “You have to earn them.”
“And the orgasms I gave you didn’t earn them?”
“No,” I say, turning away and going back to the couch.
“Wow, Bower. I always knew you had a saucy side to you, but to be just flat-out vindictive, I didn’t see that coming.”
“Show me what you can do in the kitchen, and then I’ll show you what I can do in the bedroom.”
“I know what you can do,” he says.
“You’ve barely cracked the surface.” I sit on the couch and purposefully lean slightly forward, exposing more of my breasts. From where I’m sitting, I hear him clear his throat, which makes me chuckle.
I’ll be shocked if he gets through making dinner without touching me.