Chapter 7 #2
That alone will ripple through the gossip mill like a tsunami coming on shore.
Whynot’s not exactly the kind of place that embraces scandal—or creativity, for that matter. We’re proud of our church bazaars and barbecue cook-offs, not romance novels about queens and fae princes who wield swords and fall in love mid-battle.
But there will be a few who’ll embrace it. Pap is one. He’s about honor, discipline and Marine precision, but he’s one of the most progressive men I’ve ever known. Plus, he doesn’t think sex is a sin.
And I’ll need to tell him soon because embracing this life as an author means I’m going to have to walk away from Chesty’s. At least from one side of the bar.
Once this announcement hits, everything will change. The anonymity I’ve guarded for years will vanish. There will be interviews, photo shoots, people picking apart what I look like, how I sound, how I smile.
Part of me wants to crawl back into bed and pretend I never made that call.
But then I think of Penny again—her grin, that spark of awe when she flipped through The Shadow Princess. The way she said extraordinary, like she meant it.
The thought steadies me.
She was so alive in this space. Like the house had been waiting for someone exactly like her to walk into it and make it real.
I rub a hand over my jaw and smile, faint and private.
I want to see her again.
Not just to tell her about the press tour, though that’s part of it.
But because she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel like what I do matters—and I need that right now.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and scroll to her name, having exchanged information last night before she got out of my truck.
She picks up on the third ring, her voice light and bright, although slightly harried. “Hey, Sam!”
“Is this a bad time?” I ask, because I know she’s elbow deep in customers and biscuits.
“It’s all good. Got a full staff today, so I’m more of the conductor. What’s going on?”
“So…,” I say, letting the word hang to create a little suspense. “I called my agent, Derek, this morning. I agreed to do this huge press tour that they’ve been after me to do when my next book releases.”
“Whoa,” she murmurs. There’s a pause, and then a rush of warmth in her tone. “That’s pretty big.”
“The biggest,” I admit.
“Holy hell.” She laughs, delighted. “I’m so proud of you. Really proud. You’re finally stepping into the spotlight—it’s exactly what you should be doing.”
Her faith in me hits square in the chest, knocking the breath loose. “Guess you were right,” I say. “It was time.”
“I love hearing that. You’re brave, you know that?”
“Brave might be pushing it,” I say wryly. “More like too tired to keep hiding.”
“Well,” she says, “whatever it is, it’s the right move.”
“Thanks, Penny,” I say softly. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, I’m taking full credit,” she says. “I expect to be mentioned in your next book’s acknowledgments.”
“I’ll definitely do that,” I tell her, the corner of my mouth curving. “But how about I take you out to dinner in the meantime?”
She goes quiet for a beat. “Are you asking me out on a date, Sam Rochelle?”
“I think I am.”
“Well, damn,” she says, voice low and amused.
“So, that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” she confirms, the smile obvious through the line.
Mine matches as the euphoria hits me. “Awesome. I’ll get up with you later to work out a day, but for now, I’m headed to talk to Pap.”
“Going to tell him about S. P. Rochelle,” she guesses.
“Yeah… and give my notice.”
Penny’s voice drops. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love that old man.”
“Yeah… but that’s not what I’m meant to do and I know he’ll understand.” I glance at the clock and know I need to get moving. “I’ll call later and we’ll set up that date.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
?
Pap’s old Ford sits in its usual spot, the bed full of scrap wood and an empty bait bucket. I find him behind the bar with a rag slung over his shoulder, wiping down bottles that don’t need it. He looks up when I walk in.
“Well, if it isn’t my part-time philosopher,” he says. “You’re not on duty today.”
“Need to talk,” I say, sliding onto a stool.
He cuts me a quick glance. “You look like a man who’s about to confess something.”
“Depends… you going to judge me?”
“Son, I was a Marine for thirty years. I’ve seen worse than whatever you’re about to say.”
That gets a faint laugh out of me. “Fair enough.”
I take the opportunity to collect my thoughts and glance around the bar. It’s been a second home to me at times. From the paneled walls to the scarred bar top, every bit of it speaks to a comfort I’ve enjoyed.
“You giving me your notice?” Pap asks, and the question so startles me, I bobble on the stool.
My head whips his way, but no use denying it. “Am I that obvious?”
Pap scrunches his face, looks upward as if considering, and then offers me a wry smile. “Yeah… you’re that obvious. And of course, I accept your notice. You going back to school? Always figured you would.”
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that.”
Pap glares at me. “You better not be going to work for that dive bar out on Route 20.”
I bark out a laugh. “No, not going to bartend anymore.”
Pap goes still, sets the rag down, and leans his forearms on the bar opposite me. “If you’re not going back to school and you’re not going to bartend, then what?”
I rub at the back of my neck, the smile on my face sheepish. “Jeez… didn’t realize it would be this hard to come clean.”
“Did you murder someone?”
“No.” I laugh.
“Then anything other than that is easy to confess. Spill it.”
I take a breath. “Okay… this might be hard to believe, but here goes.” Pap watches me curiously.
“I write fantasy romance novels, a fact I’ve kept hidden for six years, but now I’ve decided to out myself and give this career my all, which means I have to do shit like press tours and stuff, so I can’t keep it secret. ”
Pap just stares at me.
Doesn’t blink.
Stares and stares.
“Are you going to say something?” I demand.
He finally blinks and then doubles over laughing. He laughs so hard, he slaps the top of the bar, and I roll my eyes. I wait him out until he ends up wheezing, but eventually, he stands upright and drags his hand over his face to wipe the tears.
When he’s doing nothing more than grinning, I snap, “This isn’t a joke. I’m being serious.”
Pap chuckles again, shaking his head. “Son… I know you’re serious and I’m not laughing at you.
I’m laughing because I can’t wait to see the reaction of everyone in this town when they find out we’ve got a famous author in our midst. They’re going to lose their damn minds.
Let me ask… are your books the kind that Sissy likes to read?
You know… what do they call it, mommy porn? Because that stuff really gets—”
“Stop!” I hold up my hand, palm outward. “I don’t want to know anything about that, but yes, my books are… spicy.”
“Well, don’t worry, Sam. All those church ladies will pray for your soul.”
“If they’d just pray for good sales too, I’d be appreciative,” I mutter.
“Well, I for one am proud of you. Not sure I really understand it all, but I’d love to hear more about it.”
“I’ll fill you in tonight when I come on shift,” I say, slapping the top of the bar and popping off the stool.
“That won’t work because you won’t be here,” he says, stopping me in my tracks.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t need notice. Got plenty of people to work here and you got more important things to do. You should be polishing prose, not bar glasses.”
“Clever,” I mutter.
Pap’s smile spreads across his face. “Proud of you, boy. Not everyone’s got the guts to chase what they’re good at, let alone own it.”
My throat tightens. “You don’t think it’s… weird?”
“Writing love stories?” He snorts. “Hell no. World needs more of ’em. You build something people care about—ain’t nothing weird about that.”
I exhale, the weight easing off my chest. “Thanks, Pap.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says, reaching for his coffee. “Just don’t forget where you came from—and maybe dedicate one of those books to an old Marine who drinks too much Budweiser.”
I grin. “Deal.”