Page 47 of Slow Burn Summer

Kate sat on her hands for a second, then couldn’t keep hermouth shut. “Love stories are for everyone, not just women,” she said.

He didn’t even pretend to consider it. “Give me the newspaper and I’m done.”

“War, pestilence, and indigestion with your breakfast it is, then,” she said, fixing her smile in place. It was as well that Liv wasn’t there, she’d have enjoyed a rumble with this guy. Kate didn’t have the appetite for it; she needed to stay calm, slide Kate Darrowby on for size, and hope she didn’t do or say anything unnecessary this time around. If she could make it back to the sanctuary of the pink cottage unscathed, she’d count today as a win.

“Just don’t see the point,” the driver said, catching her eye in the rearview mirror again. “Romance books. Pie in the sky.”

Kate let out a slow, measured breath. Why was he baiting her, today of all days?

“No?” She felt her guardian angel wings shudder, desperate to unfurl and curl around the book balanced on her lap. Or to jab the driver in the eye with the sharp end of an iridescent feather. One or the other.

He shrugged, and his face told her he was pleased to have made his point. She had two choices. Stay quiet and stay cool, or rise to the bait. Calm. Cool. Quiet. Oh no…

“Have you honestly never read a single love story?”

“I have not,” he said, resolute.

“I think it was quite romantic of you to bring the book for me to sign.”

“It wasn’t.” He scowled. “Better than being nagged, that’s all.”

“Okay.” She smiled as she glanced away out of the window at the beautiful Cornish countryside, her stomach turning over with nerves when she spotted signs for the festival. “Well, tell June I hope she loves it. Tell her I wish her the best.”

She added “of luck” in her head, and the look he gave her in the mirror suggested he’d heard her unspoken words loud and clear.

“I grow poppies in the garden because they’re her favorite,” he said, managing to make it sound like an act of sufferance rather than love as he pulled into the festival entrance and followed the signs for author arrivals.

Kate nodded. “There we are, then, I knew you were a romantic at heart.”

He didn’t smile, exactly, it was more of a resigned huff as he eased the cab to a stop. “This’ll be you.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at the busy scene outside her window, working up the nerve to get out. This was her first time among so many readers, but also among other authors too. Would they sniff her out as a cuckoo in their nest?

“Meter’s running,” the driver said, not unkindly. “They’re just normal folk. Everyone farts, even the king.”

She laughed, breaking her fear. “Everyone farts. That’s my new mantra.”

“Get out of my car.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” she said, knowing better than to ask if she could take his photo for her inevitable social media post later.

25

“Five minutes everyone, five minutes,sharpies at the ready!”

The PA announcement had Kate straightening her already neatly lined-up signing pens and glancing over the table that had been set up for her. Copies of the book arranged in artful piles, a banner behind her with her name on it—Rachel had arranged all the trappings and staging to make sure she blended in seamlessly among the other authors. She glanced to her right and found the next table empty, the author yet to arrive. Two minutes before opening time, an impossibly glamorous blonde with her husband in tow strolled over with water, sweets, and all of the things Kate hadn’t thought to bring.

“Spot the signing rookie,” Kate said, watching wide-eyed as her table neighbors arranged their display and stashed their belongings in thirty seconds flat. “I wish I’d recorded that to study later and copy you move for move.”

The author, dazzling and fresh as a daisy, winked a perfectly made-up eye, then skipped over and dropped a bag of gums and a bottle of water on Kate’s table. “Trust me, you’re gonna need sugar. Shout if you need anything else, it can be a lot if you’re new to it. Or even if you’re not. Make sure someone closes your line for lunch.”

“Got it. Close the line,” Kate nodded. She’d be lucky to havea line, and no idea how to close it if she did, but she was relieved all the same to have such a welcoming neighbor.

“Curtain up,” the announcer said, sending a ripple of anticipation around the huge tent as people streamed in.

“Oh God,” Kate whispered. “Please come to me, please don’t come to me.”

A couple of large table plans stood near the entrance, explaining the layout in IKEA-level detail. The biggest-name authors were on a roped-off stage area to one side with a ticketing system and queue managers, while everyone else had been spaced around the edge of the tent. Kate had read the list and found herself starstruck, hoping to grab time to get around the tent herself later for a few social media selfies. Liv would be so proud.Liv.What she wouldn’t give for her sister’s company and confidence right now. Pretty much every other author had someone with them; she put a brave face on it, but she felt very alone. She reached for her water and sent her pens flying with her elbow, bending to gather them up from the grass.

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