Page 75 of Love on the Byline

“Alright, keep me posted.”

“Thanks, Noelia.” He sent a text to Bran’s new cell phone.

“Was that Bran’s publicist?”

Ollie turned to find Blake standing in the patio doors.

“Yeah.”

Ollie couldn’t help but smile as she walked over and settledinto the armchair across from his. He shoved some of his things aside on thecoffee table so she could set down her laptop. It was chunky and had seen manylong days by the looks of it.

“Duct tape?” He pointed to the top corner of the lid.

“Oh, yeah. I dropped it and some of the plastic casing cameoff.” She inspected the tape around the damaged area. “It’s not pretty but itstill works. For the most part,” she added. “Where’s Bran?”

“Went for a run.”

“Ah, well, that’s fine. I can ask you some questionsinstead.”

“About?”

“Your boss, of course.” She smiled as she propped her kneeon her ankle and opened her notebook. The green leather holder was worn but ingood shape, the entire book small enough to fit in a pocket or the palm of ahand.

He laughed softly. “Your laptop is right there.”

“What?”

“How many of those notebook inserts do you go through in amonth?”

She ran a thumb over the leather cover. “I’m not sure. Fiveor six?”

“You carry that around with you everywhere?”

“Yep, for the most part.”

He settled back into his seat. “Do you have something againsttechnology?”

“Not at all,” she said. Smiling, she gestured towards herclosed laptop. “Clearly. Why?”

“Well, you have a perfectly good phone. A functioninglaptop, I just wonder why you use notebooks.”

A small crease appeared in her forehead.

“Or…,” he looked more closely at the leather case. “Wait, isthat his? Your grandfather’s?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

“May I?” Ollie held out his hand, and she leaned forward togive it to him. Their fingers brushed, sending a spark of electricity travelingup his arm. The leather was warm and soft, but so was her skin.

Clearing his throat, he examined the book more closely. Itwas a rich, verdant green. Like a forest floor. All of the little scratches andmarks only enhanced its appearance. Considering how old it was, the littleportfolio was in remarkable shape.

“I buy the inserts by the case,” she said, watching himclosely as if he were handling something precious. And he supposed it was. “Iguess I’m worried they’re going to stop making them.”

“The company’s been around a long time, haven’t they?” Hehanded it back.

“That’s not a guarantee anymore.”

“True.”