Page 67 of Tell Me You Love Me

But before I make a choice, Alana’s body stiffens. Her caller—Helen—chatters, but she brings her head forward and searches the darkness.

She knows I’m here.She knows. So I step out from between machinery and stop under a beam of light sneaking in through the high windows above.

“I’m sorry.” I lift my hands in surrender, inching closer. Though I need her to move so I can leave. “I was working on the tractor. But I’ll go now.”

“I’m gonna call you back, Helen.” Alana ends their call and lowers her hand, and though her eyes scour my face, a warm embrace in a world gone cold, she remains pressed against the door. Unmoving.

Her chest lifts and falls in delicious temptation, her small tank tophugging perfect curves. And because I’m a hungry man, even when I know I shouldn’t, I allow my eyes to fall to the gap of belly her top exposes, then the flowy, spotted skirt she wears beneath.

Girl. Teen. Or a woman. She’s never not been perfect.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your private call.” I set my thumbs in my front pockets and wait… watch…notmake things worse. “I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Her nose twitches, even as her lashes come down and kiss her cheeks. “I could smell you. That’s how I knew.”

I lift one arm and take a whiff. “Sweaty, sorry. I’ve been working in the heat all day.”

“I didn’t mean you smelled bad. I just…” She stops and exhales. “You have a smell. It’s a mix of your cologne. But your gym, too. And… I dunno. Something. But it’s all you.”

“Kinda like how you smell of lavender. And coconuts. And you.” I need to get past her. To escape, I need that door. “I was heading out now, so if you could…”Put a bullet in my brain and a stake through my heart. That’d be swell. “Move.”

“In a sec.” She drops her head back again, setting her phone on the wheel well of Bitsy’s tractor before sliding her hands through her hair. She tugs just hard enough to make herself groan, stress rolling through her frame almost as visibly as fumes coming off a hot engine. “I need a moment before I lose my damn mind, and if I do that outside of this shed, I’m afraid my son will see and ask questions.” She draws a long breath, filling her lungs and pushing her chest up with the movement. Then she exhales again and drops her hands. “He knows when I’m lying to him, but it’s not right that I place adult stresses on his shoulders, either. To save him from himself, I have to melt down where he can’t see me.”

“What’s got you worried?” I meander a little closer and dig my hands into my pockets. Keep them to myself before I make thingsmuchworse. “You could hand them to me, maybe. I’m not a kid anymore.”

She smiles up at the dark ceiling, allowing her head to loll side to side. “Business stuff. It’s not important, really. Just annoying.”

“You could tell me.” Another step closer, because I really want the scent of coconuts in my lungs. “Even annoying things can weigh on us. If you share it, you might feel better. Then you can go inside and have dessert with your kid, and he won’t have to worry that you’re upset.”

She flattens herself against the door and studies me with long sweepsof her perfect blue eyes. To confide in me or not? To remember that, before we were lovers, we were friends.

“I think I made a mistake submitting my book to my agent. Or, by letting my agent submit my book to the publishing houses,” she amends with a slight lift of her shoulder. “Whichever. I was wrong for sharing it.”

“Why?” I close the space between us, but only so I can turn and press my back to the door, too. So I don’t have to see her.

Fuck knows, I want to. But I’m man enough to know it’s not good for either of us. “Isn’t that what writers do? They share it so readers can read?”

“I shouldn’t have sharedthisbook.” She turns, resting her ear against the rough wooden door. “The things I wrote are exceptionally personal to me, and though I like the story, and I stand behind the things written, ever since receiving an offer from Elyte, I’ve realized I’m not ready for the rest of the world to read it.”

“Elyte is a publishing house?”

“Mm.” She brings her hand up and nibbles on her pinky nail. “They keep pushing their contracts my way, and they’ve increased their offer twice. I guess they think I’m playing hard to get, which, in a sick way, has made them want it more. I’ve told Helen to pull the manuscript and make all this go away.”

“She won’t?”

“She thinks she’s protecting me. She assumed with the move, and Colin, and…” She hesitates before adding, “everything that’s happening, that I’m not thinking clearly. So, instead of pulling it when I tell her to, she’s nagging me to reconsider. She’s convinced I’ll regret pulling out.”

“Do you?” Fuck it, I turn my head, too, and look down into her beautiful eyes. “Do you think you’ll regret it?”

“No. I can change my mind later, if that’s what I want. I can self-publish, even if Elyte goes on a rampage and shit-talk me to every other editor in the industry. Nothing bad will happen if I pull the manuscript, but some pretty awful things could happen if I don’t.”

I want to slide the hair off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. But I don’t. I won’t. “So I guess you should pull it. Reevaluate when you’ve had time to settle in, and things with your mom are easier. Just say the words, and your agenthasto listen. She works for you.”

“I know. And I’ve done all that.”

“But she keeps calling you,” I surmise. “Hounding you to go through with the sale.”

“Hounding me to go on a talk show.” Scoffing, she dragsher bottom lip between her teeth, suckling on the sweet, plump swell. “My book isn’t some fun summer beach read. It’s more serious than that. It’s…” She searches my eyes. “Not something to be discussed over breakfast. That she and Elyte insist on a press tour that includes gossipy morning shows proves they’re the wrong people for the book, and honestly, it makes me wonder if Helen is the right agent for me.”

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