Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Nothing says you’re fancy quite like having an assistant.
Doc Martens will keep you from making a fool of yourself.
I may have broken my ass.
I woke disoriented. Blinking against bright light. A thick blanket of snow had swallowed up the forest.
The fire had died during the night. But I hadn’t felt the cold. In fact, I didn’t feel it now, either. I turned, stiffly and came eye to eye (literally) with dark lashes.
John’s face was relaxed, his mouth slightly parting on each exhale. His forehead was smooth where usually a tense line sat. Dark curls hung over his brow. His body was wrapped around me, the weight more comforting than I liked to admit.
I didn’t sleep at people’s places, nor did I ever let anyone sleep at mine. Apart from Otis, but that didn’t count. The first moments when you wake, you’re at your most vulnerable. You let the other person see you fully unguarded. No time to hide.
Last night’s conversation came back to me. The few real-John snippets he’d shared. Like a trailer from a movie that I— for some weird reason— was now dying to see. It was all… confusing. And my body felt warm… maybe even too warm.
The heating had sprung back on.
Careful not to wake John, I pushed his legs off mine.
Peeling off two layers of clothing on the way, I ran upstairs and threw myself at my laptop.
Thank fuck. The internet was back on.
The first email in my inbox was from Charlene. They had received the file, and she asked if we got home safely.
It had gone through. Everything else now lay outside of my power.
My phone was filled with messages from Otis, all a different variation of:
Are you dead?
Is it terribly sexy being snowed in?
By the time I came back downstairs, John was standing in the kitchen, setting down two steaming mugs of black, punchy wake-up calls on the rustic island.
It felt odd, being on the other side of the night. Knowing we’d have to share a car. That he’d see where I lived. Me carrying the knowledge that his engagement was a PR game. The power dynamic had shifted. I just didn’t know how, yet.
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
“He lives,” I said, taking one of the cups.
“So sorry to disappoint.” His voice was thick and sleep-laden.
He leaned against the counter on the other side of the island, keeping a physical distance between us.
His hand brushed through his hair, the curls immediately falling in that sophisticated I-couldn’t-recreate-that-if-I-tried way.
He looked even more handsome slightly disheveled and blurry-eyed.
The tilt of his mouth, the slightly raised brow—it could snatch a girl's heart.
What kind of black magic was this? Well, whatever it was, I needed a counterspell.
“You look happy,” he said, taking a sip. John pulled me out of my thoughts.
“The manuscript went through in time. You won’t get rid of me this easily.”
“I’m heartbroken.” He placed the cup back on the counter and looked around the room. “Have you seen my phone?”
I shook my head.
John held out his hand.
“What?”
“Give me yours. I’ll call myself.”
It felt weird handing John my phone, to see him type his number and press the call button. It looked like we were friends.
I’m not sure I can be your friend anyway.
John's words from last night came back to me. My neck flushed. Not friends. Rivals. Enemies. Competitors.
There was a buzzing sound coming from between the sofa cushions.
“I’ll call us a driver.”
“A driver?”
He nodded behind me, to where the snow covered the hot tub entirely.
“Unless you fancy helping me shovel my car free and de-icing the windows?”
I scrunched up my face.
“Like I thought.”
I looked over my shoulder to the front door. “What about your car?”
“I’ll have my assistant pick it up.”
Of course he had an assistant. Rich bastard.
He shrugged on his coat then stepped towards the back. “There is a snowdrift blocking that way so we’ll have to make our way around the house.” He threw my coat at me, it landed in my face. “Ready for a morning hike?”
I was proud to say I didn’t take his offer to help me down the frozen steps.
And I only fell twice. Though the second time, I was sure I’d broken my butt.
I limped down the road, while John moved with his usual elegant ease.
At the far end of a road, behind a snow drift, a man in a suit waved at us. A massive black car was parked behind him.
“Let’s get you home,” John said, taking my bag before I could protest.
I winced when I sat. My tailbone would surely be blue and green tomorrow. The car was…massive was an understatement. You could house a family of four in here. Black and sleek. Soft ass leather. Was that a fridge?
John slipped into the seat beside me, looking like he was about to be picked up for the Oscars, not like he had just survived a freaking snowstorm and slept on the floor.
“Where to?” he asked, handing me a folded blanket from behind the headrest when he noticed I was shivering. I wanted to turn it down but, fuck it. I wrapped it around my soaking legs, sighing at the warm air blasting from the middle console at my feet.
I gave the driver my address. The man nodded into his mirror at John, then his eyes were trained on the road for the rest of the journey.
We didn’t speak as we rode past the treetops that looked like a Christmas postcard.
Watching his fingers glide over his phone, seeing him in his natural environment, reminded me that we were nothing alike.
I was a fan fiction writer and bookseller, struggling to keep my and my mom’s head afloat, while he…
was a celebrity who could afford a venti iced latte once a day without going broke.
And he was taking space away that wasn’t his to take.
It was selfish and arrogant…whatever this competition was for him, it was a game.
An ego boost. He did it because he could.
A writer that disliked people like me—people that borrowed characters and spun their own tales.
With every roar of the engine, my resolve to kick his ass regained strength.
The lull of the road noise and the heat of the blanket were soothing, and my eyelids became heavy…
“Nora?”
I sucked in a breath and sat up straight. John's face was very close to mine. His fingers were inches away from my face, and there was a tingle on the side of my cheek where he must have just brushed it.
I had managed to fall asleep almost immediately. The pressure of the competition, the nights spent writing instead of sleeping, and the nap on the floor… must have been too much. I had even forgotten to be tense sitting in a car together.
“We’re here,” he said, straightening and looking out of the window. “Or so I think. This is a bookstore.”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m well aware.”
He looked at me with mock concern. “Tell me you do have a home.”
I leveled him with a look. “I work here.”
“I don’t believe you work in customer service.”
“And why is that?”
“With your sunny disposition?”
I wanted to scowl but had to admit I liked him teasing me like this. Which was…a problem.
Before I could reach the back, he’d rounded the car and opened the trunk, handing me my duffel bag.
“Thanks for the ride, I guess.” I stood stiffly, my butt begging me for a pack of frozen peas.
He nodded. “Good luck, Nora. I’ll see you at the announcement.”
I shouldered my bag. “I don’t need luck to kick your ass.”
He smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I know you don’t.”
I turned before he could see my smile.
“Your ex came by this morning,” Otis said as a way of greeting. His lids were covered in sparkly shimmer, a pink blush highlighting his cheekbones.
I stifled a groan. “What a way to greet your bestie after a lifetime apart.”
I plonked my bag behind the counter and straightened my hair with a fork, feeling very Un-Disney-like.
“You look like you had a hell of a week,” Otis said.
“And,” he leaned forward, scrunching up his nose, “you smell like a campfire.” He straightened.
“Did you go camping? Like… in nature? Did you eat wild berries and fight grizzly bears?” He twisted me around, making me laugh.
“Who are you, and what did you do to my Nora?”
I giggled. An odd burning grew behind my eyes. The heaviness and stress of the week slammed into me. Being here with Otis, my shining beacon, made me realize just how exhausted I was and how happy I was to be here. And how much I needed this store to survive.
Otis’s face fell. “Oh no, love, did they break you? Do I have to send you back in exchange for the newer and hotter model?” He tugged me into a hug, and I buried my face into him.
“It was… I…” I began, not sure how to continue, then gasped, tugging on his sleeve. “Your first rehearsal is tonight!”
“I know. I’m equally excited and may die of a heart attack. But I want to know about your week first.”
I shook my head, ready to drown my body weight in espresso.
The nap in the car had not been sufficient, even though those were by far the comfiest leather seats my ass had ever met.
Truth was, I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
The last twenty-four hours had been…wildly unnerving. It felt like a different universe.
I took a deep breath in, turned our shop sign to open, and said, in my best, stoic, Brad Majors impression, “We don’t want to be any worry.”
I waved my hand dramatically in the air. The cue for Otis to pick up his line as Frank-N-Furter.
There was a shift in Otis’s expression. He closed his eyes, like he could feel the stage light warming his skin. A dramatic sigh. When his eyes opened again, his brow shot up, his lips quirked in a sultry way.
“Well, you got caught with a flat. Well, how about that? Well, babies, don’t you panic…”