Page 7 of Blood Lust
My face burned hotter. I sounded like such a dumbass. I should’ve had that shot of Fireball with A.R. Hall after all. For a second, I wondered what he’d do if I pulled out the shooter bottle she’d given me.
“No, I’m with my mom. She dragged me with her. Are you one of the authors?” His voice was like the finest whiskey—warm, rich, and sexy.
“Vittorio! I didn’t bring you with to flirt! Here.” She handed him a large white shopping bag full of Merin’s books.
“Duty calls,” he told me with a wink. Another drool-worthy man took a picture of the woman with Merin. Then they moved on.
“Holy shit! Did you check out those guys with her?” Merin gasped as she squeezed my arm.
“Hard not to. Good Lord, they were beautiful.”
“Girl, you need to hook up with one of them.” She cooled herself with one of the heart-shaped fans she gave out to readers. “Then give me all the deets after.”
A nervous laugh escaped me, and I shook my head. “Whatever. Even if I had a chance with a guy like that, I’m not leaving you on our girl’s weekend for a one-night stand.”
Several readers approached, ending our conversation. Though I should’ve known my friend wouldn’t let it drop at that. The moment they moved on, she opened her mouth, but more people followed them. An hour had passed by the time we had another lull.
She crossed her arms, and I knew what was coming.
“Why would you think you wouldn’t have a chance with a guy like that?”
“Really? Did you see them? They were all hot as hell. Which, come to think of it, probably means they are losers. And even if they weren’t, I’m… me.” I motioned from my head to my toes and back.
“First of all,” she said as she held up one finger, “you are a fucking knockout.” Then she held up another finger when I opened my mouth to argue. “Second of all, not all good-looking guys are self-centered assholes who lie and don’t have jobs. They aren’t all Paul.”
“Or Leroy,” I added.
“Or him,” she agreed.
“Or James,” I continued.
“Ohh, he was the worst. Okay, okay, okay. Maybe you’ve had bad luck with men, but they aren’t all like those dickholes. Besides, every single one of those guys earlier were wearing Rolex watches, and they may have been dressed casually, but their clothes were designer,” she argued.
“Maybe they stole them,” I shot back. Besides, I liked the guy in the gym clothes better, but of course, he was probably taken.
“Good Lord, woman.” She rolled her eyes.
“Hey, it’s possible.”
“Doubtful.”
“Fine, maybe they bought them. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m done with relationships.”
“Lia, you don’t need a relationship to get your socks rocked off. Use a man’s body like a rental car.”
I snorted. “A rental car?”
“Yeah. Run it hard and fast, put a shit ton of miles on it, then drop it off.” She gave a wicked grin that had me chortling.
“You’re so bad,” I gasped out as I laughed.
“You love it and you know it,” she whispered before she turned to greet the two women that came up.
After they left and there was a moment to chill, she shooed me away. “Go get your books now!”
“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement. I’d made a mental checklist of the authors I wanted to buy books from and the best route to take to get to their tables. I was in book heaven.
After having my picture taken with my favorite Welsh author, Amy Davies, then Kathleen Kelly, who was one of my favorites from Australia—their accents were divine—I grabbed my stack of books that had grown larger than I realized. Truthfully, it was heavy as hell. I was going to have to ship them home. By the time I was rounding the last corner to go back to Merin’s table, my arms were about to come out of their sockets.