Page 9 of Room 1212

There was no time to consider what to do now, as we had arrived at our destination. I pulled the bus up right out front along the curb. “All right, everybody out.” I opened the door and stepped down, offering my assistance when needed.

Once everyone was unloaded, they filed into the store—all except Lavender. She squeezed my arm tenderly. “You do you, boo,” she said, and I laughed at her attempt to talk like her granddaughter. I wasn’t sure she even understood what that meant. “Everything will work out in the end.”

“Thanks, Lavender. I sure hope so.”

I didn’t have any personal shopping to do, but I liked to go in and keep an eye on them, make sure there weren’t any shenanigans. I’d once caught one of the residents trying to shoplift a six-pack of beer by shoving it down his pants. He’d claimed he was trying to reclaim his lost youth, but store security didn’t see it that way. Luckily, they didn’t press any changes, but his shopping rights had been restricted.

Most of the seniors were lingering in the chip aisle, debating what flavors went with their film selection for Movie Monday. I swung by the pet aisle to grab some cat treats as promised, then kept wandering to kill some time, until I found myself in the pharmacy section… my eyes involuntarily drawn to the condoms.

I picked up a box. It seemed so simple, just a box, hardly weighed a thing, but it brought to mind what I’d said to Jordan, about how his characters always forgot to use protection. I chuckled, shaking my head. While it was undoubtedly true, I shouldn’t have said it. It probably happened to people all the time… right?

Even though I wasn’t seeing anyone, and hadn’t gotten laid inwaytoo long, I found myself carrying the box back to the checkout. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was that I had no interest in becoming a cliché.

Wouldn’t that be ironic?I chuckled to myself.

“Wow, that’s going to be some apology,” Davis teased, coming up beside me in the lineup and nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. “Jordan Kepler won’t know what hit him.”

I looked down at the box of condoms. “What, these? No, they’re just a precaution. Best to be prepared, my dad always said.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, clearly not buying my excuse. “And I think you’re hoping to see that author again.”

And how could I argue with him about it when there was only one man whose face kept drifting through my thoughts, one man haunting my dreams, and right now, he was the only one I could imagine having sex with.

I laughed at myself. Me and Jordan? It was a complete work of fiction.

5

Jordan

“Areyoursuitcasesallunpacked, ready to get back to work?” Sean asked vaguely. I wasn’t sure if he actually cared about my answer, as focused as he was on the food in front of him. We were dining in a small, overpriced café he’d selected. The food was meh, but I let him have his way because he always paid and wrote the meal off as a business expense. Besides, my agent was a bit like a bulldozer, plowing over anything or anyone in his way. I found it was easier not to argue.

“Yeah, about that…” I drawled, and something in my tone made his head shoot up, his eyes spearing me with an icy stare. “I was thinking about taking some time off.” I couldn’t even look him in the eye as I said it.

He laughed like I’d told some great joke. When I didn’t join in, he sobered. “You’re serious? You just had the opportunity to travel all over the country. Wasn’t that vacation enough?”

“You mean the gorgeous variety of bookstores and convention halls I visited?” The trip had been planned down almost to the minute, so I hadn’t had a single chance to do any sightseeing. It was eat, sleep, and sign books. My wrist was killing me. “I was thinking something a little less… work.”

“Book tours are a stipulation of your contract,” he said darkly, as though I had suggested not doing it.

I nodded slowly. “Yes, I realize that, and you know how much I adore meeting my fans, but I was thinking of taking a brief trip on my own, maybe to the west coast. I would love to dip my toes in the ocean.”

He smiled, but I could see a tightness around his eyes, his crow’s feet fighting against the Botox injections he’d had. “You know what, why don’t I arrange a nice cabin along the lake. You can call it a writer’s retreat. Dip your toes all you like, and you can get a jumpstart on those first chapters we discussed.” In other words, a total lack of distractions—or fun.

Sean dug back into his salad, making it clear that the topic was now closed for discussion.

Chewing on his bite of food, he pulled out his tablet and slid it across the table to me. “This is the breakdown of your first-quarter sales onEmperor City. Another #1 bestseller. Yay!” He wiggled her fingers in the air, his face an exaggerated mask of excitement.

I stared down at the graphs, my eyes unfocused. What did these numbers mean in the grand scheme of things? I mean, it meant that I got paid to do the thing I loved, but… what if I didn’t love it as much as I used to?

Ever since my book signing at The Scarlet Hotel a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been able to get that alpha’s words out of my head. He said he wasn’t really one of my readers, so I tried to convince myself his opinion shouldn’t matter, but I couldn’t help the flare of rage and indignation I’d felt when he insulted my books. They were my babies! I made those books, me, with my own two hands, and I had poured myself into them, itty-bitty pieces of my very soul into each book. And when he’d told me they weren’t good enough, I wanted to cry.

But later that night, after drinking a bottle of wine and cursing his stupid gorgeous face—and of course, tossing and turning for an hour, unable to sleep—I’d decided that he had a point. My goal was always to write something deep and meaningful, something that touched my readers’ hearts, and he’d made me feel like my words didn’t matter… likeIdidn’t matter. And for the first time in a long time, I’d faltered.

I could feel myself starting to drift, uncertainty clouding my judgment. Was I nothing but a fraud? There were so many incredible authors out there. What did I do to deserve this level of success? Why not them? It was all a matter of luck and chance.

Sean was still going on about the various starred reviews my book had received, but I didn’t know any of those reviewers personally. They praised me to the high heavens, but wasn’t that their job? What if they were all lying, saying what the masses wanted to hear? If they offered an unpopular opinion, would their jobs be at risk? I couldn’t believe a word they said.

What if everyone was lying to me? Everyone except for one opinionated alpha who wasn’t afraid of hurting my feelings.