The Indie – Summer
THE INDIE
SUMMER
Why the hell am I always so damn late?
I rushed around my bookstore, doing all the little things I’d stupidly put off until today: I reorganized the romantasy shelf for tomorrow’s big bedazzling event, stocked the coffee bar for the midnight stock crew, and handwrote thank-you postcards for this month’s biggest customers.
By the time I finished steaming the pink drapes that covered the far wall, it was seven fifteen, which officially killed any chance of going home and getting dressed before tonight’s romance convention.
I’ll just be super late, I guess…
“Has anybody seen my keys?” I yelled. “Anybody?”
“They’re hanging on the door!” My younger sister, Jenny, yelled back. “What do you need those for anyway?”
“To go home, Jenny.” I walked over and grabbed them. “I need to at least change clothes.”
“Ten steps ahead of you.” She pointed to a wardrobe bag hanging off the office romance shelf. “You’re welcome.”
“What’s this favor going to cost me?”
“I need to use the private reading room next week for a date.” She winked. “After hours.”
“No,” I said. “The only sex that happens in this store is on the pages.”
“The guy is just going to eat me out, Summer.” She scoffed. “I’ll cover the sofa with a blanket if you’re that worried about your furniture.”
I gave her a blank stare.
“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands. “I’ll suggest that we do that in the car, and we’ll just use your room to watch a movie.”
“I don’t trust you anymore.” I grabbed my clothes and headed toward my back office. “No.”
“You’re just mad because the only men you sleep with are fictional!”
I shut the door on her last line and squeezed past a stack of boxes.
If I shut my eyes for long enough, I could pretend this was the type of office I’d imagined having when I opened Slow Burn—glass shelves, comfortable seating, and enough room for more than two people to fit inside at once.
One day, Summer. One day.
I changed out of my flowered jeans and “Sunshine Heroines Forever” T-shirt, swapping them for a gingham blue dress and nude heels.
I ran a flat iron through my hair as quickly as possible, then ordered an Uber instead of asking to borrow Jenny’s car.
I would definitely have to let her use my spot for sex if I dared to ask that…
Before heading outside, I grabbed my badges and collapsible book carrier, then took one last look at my store.
Hopefully, tonight would make me stop regretting that I’d ever opened Slow Burn Books at all…
An hour and a half later
I stumbled out of the Uber, clutching my oversized bag at my side and cursing Manhattan’s traffic.
From here, I could see that the event was well underway, and I’d missed out on my chance at receiving any “early bird” and “anxious reader” prizes at the door.
Sighing, I walked inside the hotel and immediately felt at home.
Pink lights twinkled across the lobby, oversized book covers stretched toward the ceiling, and women in elaborate gowns wandered past me carrying tote bags that were already overflowing with books.
My people.
I checked in at the registration desk, watching as the attendant handed me all the custom pins I’d reserved: “Billionaires are only sexy in BOOKS,” “Indie Shops Never Stop,” “I Devour Romance All Day,” and—
“No, no, no.” I held out my hand as she picked up an ‘I’m Not Lonely. I Fuck My Book Boyfriends All The Time’ one. “I didn’t order that pin.”
“You sure?” She squinted at the sheet. “It looks like you added it to your order last week. It’s a special add-on gift from… your sister.”
Ugh, Jenny!
“Thank you.” I forced a smile and stuffed it at the bottom of my bag. “Where are the special VIP edition pickups?”
“In the grand ballroom.” She handed me a map. “And your speaking session is two hours from now, so take your time and enjoy the night!”
“Will do.”
I made my way through a hallway decorated like an enchanted forest and slipped into a glass-walled ballroom that took my breath away.
Fairy lights glittered overhead, massive character banners hung between the windows, and rows of special-edition books gleamed beneath glass displays.
God, I loved romance.
Following the “Pick Up” signs, I stopped when I saw that the shelf was empty.
What the…
I spun around, looking for a staff member to help, but I spotted my name tag hanging off a book a few steps away…in another guy’s hands.
My matching VIP swag bag was dangling from his wrist.
“Oh, come on…” I muttered, walking right over to the back of his red and green plaid shirt. “I believe you’re holding my book, sir.”
He didn’t turn around.
“Uh, hello?” I asked. “You don’t strike me as a ‘Summer’ or a ‘Miss Connors,’ so…can I have my book back, please?”
Still, nothing.
“Okay, look,” I said. “I had to wake up at three o’clock in the morning for that reservation form to open and jump through all types of hoops to reserve that special edition, and you think you can just come in here and take it from me?”
What the hell is his deal?
“Sir?” I tapped his shoulder. “Sir!”
“Yes?” The burly man finally turned around. “What the hell is your problem?”
“You,” I said, holding up my wristband. “You have my book in your hand and you need to release it. Now.”
“My boss sent me over here to grab this since he saw everyone else getting one,” he said. “I’m not leaving here without it.”
“It looks like your boss didn’t have enough sense to buy you a VIP pass for tonight,” I said. “He’s not entitled to whatever book he wants, especially one with my name on it. Hand it over or I’ll make a huge scene.”
He arched a brow.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I’ve waited over a year for that edition and I’m not letting anyone get in my way of taking it home.”
“Lady, if you knew who my boss was—”
“He’s obviously a thief.”
He laughed and took a step back, making me realize that he was sporting my special fairytale bracelet on his wrist as well.
So, you’re a thief, too…
“Where the hell is your boss then?” I could sense he wasn’t the right person to talk to. “Since he clearly doesn’t know proper book convention etiquette, I’ll happily educate him.”
“Okay.” The guy smiled and pointed to the back of the room. “It’s your funeral, lady. He’s right over there in the black suit.”
Who the hell wears a suit to a romance convention?
I made my way in that direction, my eyes locked on the back of the guy’s head as he entertained a woman dressed in an elf costume.
As I neared him, I noticed that the women standing near him were constantly stealing glances and blushing like he was some type of celebrity.
He’s a THIEF, ladies.
“I just can’t wait to find out what happens to Belle when she gets into The Whispering Woods,” the elf woman said, beaming at him. “I just love inverted fairytales.”
“Do you?” The thief briefly turned around to grab a drink off a champagne tray.
“Yes,” the elf woman said. “It’s tied with my love for romantasy, but—”
“I need you to hold that thought.” I interrupted, stepping next to her before she could finish her sentence. “I need to have a conversation with this asshole since he stole my book.”
“This what?” The guy turned around, and I instantly understood the blushes and stares.
“Uh…” I felt my cheeks heating as his eyes met mine.
Well, damn.
I refused to let a chiseled jawline and stunning emerald eyes get in the way of my book, though.
“You heard me,” I said. “You stole my book.”
“How so?” He held up his hands. “I’m not holding anything.”
“Your lumberjack guy over there is.” I pointed. “He said you refused to leave here without it, but guess what?”
“What?” He smiled, and my stomach flipped.
“It has my order number on it, which means it’s mine,” I said. “If you’re that embarrassed to carry around your own monster smut, I totally understand that, but you can’t steal mine.”
“Monster smut?”
“Don’t you dare be judgmental.”
“I’m not, I’m intrigued.” He let out a low laugh and signaled to his guy.
Within seconds, he walked over to us and held out my book.
“He has my swag bag and bracelet, too.” I pointed to them. “And every piece of merch better still be in there…”
“We didn’t take anything out.” He moved it from the guy’s hands and slung it over my shoulder.
His fingertips brushed my shoulder, and I felt a sudden rush of heat pass through my body.
“Thank you very much,” I said, wondering if he’d felt it too. “There’s a room full of pop-ups and signed books in the second ballroom, if you want to go get your fill tonight.”
“My fill?”
“That didn’t come out right,” I said, tucking in the tags. “Anyway, uh—thanks for not making this harder than it had to be. I need to make sure the session I’m hosting is set up.”
“You’re the host of this entire event?”
What? Hell no… “Maybe.”
“It’s very well decorated and organized,” he said, looking around. “I’m impressed, and that doesn’t typically happen.”
“Are you here cosplaying a billionaire?” I tilted my head to the side.
“Come again?”
“That actually would make a lot of sense.” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about that aspect of this event. “What book and series are you from? No, wait. Let me guess.”
“I’m not cosplaying anything…”
“The Dark Manhattan Series?” I asked, glancing at his watch. “No, the Midnight Billionaire series.”
“You’re not speaking English anymore…” he said.
“They must have spent a lot of money finding a replica of that Audemars Piguet for you. If I didn’t know any better, I might’ve believed it was real.”
“It is real.”
I stared at him.
“Oh, okay then.” I nodded. “It’s good that you’re staying in character, and they really did an amazing job casting you. I’ll write a good review for you at the end of tonight, if I remember.”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone particular,” he said. “Can you let me know where I can find the owner of Slow Burn Books?”
Whoa, what?
“Uh, depends…” I glanced at his tie and his cufflinks.
Everything about him looked a little too expensive to be a costume, but there was no way some random billionaire was wandering around a romance convention.
“What do you want with her?” I asked.
“I just want to chat about a few things,” he said. “She doesn’t have a personal social media or a picture of herself on her website.”
“Because she took a page from a certain asshole chain CEO’s book,” I muttered. “He hardly ever shows his face, so why should she?”
“You’re talking about Adrian Sinclair?”
“Yeah, him.” I nodded. “Do you know his middle name is Sebastian? That means his initials spell out ‘A.S.S.,’ which fits him and his business practices perfectly.”
“I didn’t know that at all.” He smiled again. “So, you know the owner of Slow Burn personally?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But I know how to get her a message if you want.”
“That’s okay, I’ll keep looking until I have to leave,” he said. “What was your name?”
“I never gave it to you.”
“Can you give it to me now?” His eyes darkened, and for a split second I pictured myself riding his face in a penthouse suite. “I told you I was intrigued.”
“You are…” I stepped back, my heart racing a mile a minute at an acting performance. “Really, really good at your job.”
“I’m aware.” He stepped forward. “Your name?”
“I have to go handle the thing, so uh…” I took two steps back. “Good luck and thanks for the good cosplay moment.”
I turned away and felt him staring at me until I left.
Against my better judgment, I returned to the room an hour later—hoping the billionaire cosplayer was still there.
I couldn’t find him, though.
I took my time slipping in and out of every rented space, but he was long gone.