Page 1 of Axel

1

KELSEY

“What’s next on your list?”Hope asks. She takes a sip of her strawberry milkshake, looking at me expectantly across our booth table.

In the short time I’ve been in Daisy Hills, Hope has become one of my nearest and dearest friends. She’s also been one of my biggest cheerleaders and enthusiasts when it comes to mywriter experience list. Two of the books I’ve written since I’ve lived here were inspired by her ideas. I’m really going to miss her when I move on in a couple of weeks.

I quickly scan the booths and tables around us.

I’m going to missDaisy’s Dinermost of all. The inspiration-fueled gossip hub of the town. It’s been a great place to bring my laptop to write the hours away and occasionally borrow story ideas from overheard conversations.

After a second scan that convinces me no one is close enough to eavesdrop, I lean over the table and lower my voice. “I’m getting a tattoo.”

“Oooh!” Her eyes go wide, twinkling with excitement. She lowers her voice to match my volume. “Does that mean you’re writing a romance about a tattoo artist?”

“I am.”

“I wish I was brave enough to get a tattoo,” she says, sighing.

“You could get one too. Maybe we can even get matching tattoos?” I suggest, sipping a soda. Hopefully the sugar will keep me from doing something embarrassing, like passing out in the tattoo chairifAxel Bennett has an opening for a walk-in today. “So we’ll always remember our friendship.”

“You think you’re getting rid of me just because you’re doing something dumb like moving away?” Hope shakes her head, simultaneously sucking her milkshake dry. “No way. I’m like a bad rash that won’t go away. Best you accept that now.”

“Okay. Gross analogy,” I laugh. “But if you change your mind?—”

“I won’t,” she insists. “It’s that whole needle phobia. Do you want me to come with you though? As long as I don’t look at the tattoo gun, I shouldn’t cause a scene.”

“No,” I say, a little too quickly. She looks hurt. “My main character goes alone to get her first tattoo. It’s part of the meet cute. I’ll write it better if I get the genuine experience.”

“Are you nervous?” Hope asks, pushing her empty milkshake glass to the edge of the table and switching to water.

“A little, I suppose.” I leave out the detail that I’m more nervous about the sexy volunteer firefighter who’ll be holding the tattoo gun than I am of the actual tattoo itself. Or that my idea to write about a tattoo artist hero may have been inspired by Daisy Hills’ newest eligible bachelor, Axel Bennett. If my hopeless romantic best friend figures out I have a slight crush on him, she’ll probably cook up a scheme to make me fall in love and stay. That’s not a risk I can afford to take.

Moving on after every few books is what I do. It’s my process. And I’ve built a very successful career honoring that process.

“What are you getting?”

“A sunflower.” I pull out the drawing from my purse. “It represents happiness.”

“And abundance.”

I give her a funny look.

“What?” she asks with a shrug. “I know things. You could always get a daisy. You know, to remember Daisy Hills by.”

“I thought of that, but daisies represent innocence and purity. That’s not exactly the kind of romance I write.” We share a conspiratorial look and burst into laughter.

“Fair enough,” Hope says, picking up her phone and typing something quickly into it.

“Besides, I’ve always loved sunflowers,” I admit.

She holds her phone out to me, a picture of a sunflower on her screen. Along with a lengthy description of its meaning. “Did you know sunflowers also represent loyalty, devotion, and steadfastlove?”

“I did not.” I swipe a stray fry from the plate I’d abandoned earlier and dip it in ketchup. “But that might be a good detail to work into my story.”

“Or into yourreality,” Hope suggests.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

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