Page 68 of Love, Lacey Donovan
She rolled her eyes. “Just be yourself. Now, go.”
Sloane gave me another push, and this time once my feet were going I kept moving. I screwed up my courage, adjusted my hat, and walked over to the booth.
With each step that brought me closer, I rehearsed what to say.Hello, I’m your biggest fan?That wouldn’t do. She’d probably heard it a million times.I’m obsessed with you?No way. Too creepy.
I stopped at Miranda’s booth like a statue, too intimidated to speak. Up close, she was even more beautiful than in her author photo. Long brown hair, creamy skin, and perfectly symmetrical features—she looked exactly like the best-selling author she was.
My tongue tied in knots, and my throat closed up.
“Hello.” She barely looked up from the menu. “I’ll take a Dewars on the rocks, and do you have a wine list?”
A blush rose over my cheeks. Miranda thought I was a waitress. Did I look like a waitress? I was wearing a vintage velvet dress with a corseted bodice I’d found on consignment and a purple wool felt hat. It was a far cry from the crisp black uniforms the servers wore.
“I’m your biggest fan,” I blurted.
Miranda eyes slowly raised from her menu to drop over me. “You’re not the waitress?”
“No.” I thrust my copy ofHeaven on Earthat her. The dog-eared pages were wrinkled within the binding. I’d read the book so many times I had complete passages committed to memory.
“You want me to sign that for you?”
I tried to speak but was too afraid nothing wouldn’t come out. I nodded instead.
“Come to the bookstore on Sunday. I’ll be working then. Right now, I’m trying to get a drink.” Her mouth lifted in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So, if you’re not the waitress, go away.”
The waitress came up beside me, and Miranda repeated her order and request for a wine list. I mumbled an apology and made my way back to the bar on watery knees.
“How’d it go?” Sloane asked when I stumbled up to the bar.
I shook my head, feeling the rush of tears. “Not good.”
Sloane took one look at me and reached for a cocktail napkin. “What happened?”
I took the napkin and dabbed under my eyes. I felt like someone had just ripped the last chapter out of my favorite book. “She wouldn’t sign it.”
Sloane wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in her fragrant embrace. “That bitch. Do you want me to take her out?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Kind of. But you can’t risk your job.”
Sloane pulled back. “I’ll figure something else out.” Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe we wasted all afternoon waiting around for that bitch.”
I sniffed, refusing to cry over something as silly as being rejected by a celebrity. “At least I can go to the bathroom now.”
I slid off the stool and headed to the bathroom. While washing my hands at the sink, I gave myself a pep talk. It wasn’t the end of the world. So my favorite author was a snotty bitch. It didn’t matter. She was still a literary genius. I would still buy her books.
Sloane was waiting for me in the lobby when I came out of the bathroom.
“I think we should go now,” she said, shoving my copy ofHeaven on Earthat my chest. Grabbing my arm, she spun me around so my back was to the bar. “Come on.” Sloane gripped my wrist tightly and pulled me toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”
I glanced from the pained expression on Sloane’s face toward the bar. “What happened?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. Sloane was acting funny.
“Her date showed up,” she said.
“What’s he like?” I craned my head to get a view of the booth. “I bet he’s hot. Is he hot?”
Sloane’s face blanched. “He’s hot all right.”
“What’s wrong?”
