Page 88 of Love to Hate You

“He’s not like that,” she argued. “Maybe once upon a time he was, but that guy is gone. He’s really an amazing, caring, reliable, and honest man, Cleo.”

Cleo sank back into her chair and exhaled slowly and painfully. “I had a feeling he was.”

Summer placed her hand over her heart. “He called mehis.”

“Damn, I love a possessive streak in a man. But this ruins my entire story I made up about his silver-spoon childhood.”

“He isn’t that either, and his story is heartbreaking.”

Cleo rolled her eyes so hard her brow piercing nearly popped out. “If you say so. Just don’t fuck this whole thing up with getting you feeling so involved you stop putting yourself first. Because when you agree to this signing you are putting it all on the line.”

Weren’t those Wes’s exact words to her?

“What do you mean?”

Cleo pulled out a file with a fifteen-page printed contract in it with sticky notes, highlighted lines, and notes in the margin. “I looked it over a time or two, had Asher look it over, but his specialty is real-estate law, so you need to read it before you get back to them. Maybe even hire a third party.”

Summer’s stomach went sour with uncertainty. She didn’t know the first thing about contracts, and hiring someone meant spending money she didn’t have. Then Wes with all his podcast wisdom popped into her head, and she knew he’d understand the document. Or if he didn’t, he’d definitely refer her to someone who would.

“I know a guy,” she said without revealing said guy’s name.

“Does he look like the dark, dangerous Duke of Loafers? Because if so, he’s the first guest to arrive for the podcast.”

Summer turned around and her breath caught. Standing against the back wall, leaning on his big shoulder, was Wes. He’d lost the tie and suit jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up above his elbow. His hair looked mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it, and his eyes looked tired. She knew he’d had a meeting with the board today and hoped it had gone in his favor. But his drawn expression told her that it hadn’t.

Without saying goodbye to Cleo, Summer raced out the office and over to Wes. Before he could get a word out she kissed the hell out of him. It made Autumn and Randy’s exploits look like hand-holding.

He let out a long sigh and his hands slid over her ass and into her back pockets, jerking her against his hard body. They didn’t stop until they both needed oxygen.

“How did the meeting go?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. Right now, I want to say good luck on your podcast and just know I’ll be here cheering you on.”

“You left work early to see my podcast?”

He cupped her cheek. “I left early to see you.” His eyes went over her shoulder. “And why is your employee pointing a switchblade at me?”

“That’s her way of saying hi.”

“Somehow I didn’t expect tonight’s topic would be based around the feminist view ofJane Eyre,” Mable said.

“Cleo kind of hijacked the podcast,” Summer said. “She wanted to do a parallel book talk.”

“Well, it worked. Everyone was entertained and felt like they were a part of everything going on.”

The podcast had been packed. Not a spare seat in the house. And Cleo had been right, not only had the entire audience bought both books and read them, they’d been excited to compare the two books and talk about what Bertha in the attic symbolized. They’d also bought other books while they waited for the podcast recording to start.

Summer had strategically placed Cleo at the front door, organizing them in a line that zigzagged through the aisles, so people could peruse while waiting to be seated. Summer had walked up and down the aisle welcoming everyone and inquiring about what kind of romance they liked, then coming up with a suggestion to match their favorite trope or genre. It was a genius idea and it had been all hers.

The excitement from hearing back from Sloan Chase’s publicist had given her a bump of confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time. And maybe it also had something to do with the handsome, noble man who’d stood in the back, smiling at her as if she were the most entertaining and beautiful woman on the planet. He’d even winked at her once or twice, which had made her belly flutter.

She hadn’t expected him to stay for the entire thing, but he’d stood there, stoic as ever, a proud smile on his face. And all that pride was for her—jump-starting an emotion that felt new and refreshing and something she wanted to experience every day.

He’d even waited until she’d locked up the shop so he could walk her home. Even though the stairs to her apartment were around the back, they walked slowly, making the most of every second.

The night sky was inky with a silver glow from the full moon. A gentle breeze spun around them and he slid his jacket over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “That’s very sweet of you.”

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