Page 116 of Smoke and Fire
He frowned. His gaze dropped to the countertop, as if seeking something, then landed on the books. The muscles around his lips tightened.
I bristled.
Great. He was going to judge me to be a simpering woman that read romance novels at work. That would put me into a label without him knowing me at all. A true label, unfortunately, but that was besides the point. The judgment already built up in his gaze, like a gathering storm. Oh, that’sexactlywhat I saw in his a-little-too-attractive face right now. Condemnation.
Judgment.
Or, maybe, just an extension of his strange fear.
On an average day, I liked everyone I met. It’s why a coffee shop in a small mountain town for the summer ended up being an ideal job. It gave me space to plan my next move, enough work to not feel utter terror over my lack of direction, and connection with people so I didn’t get lonely. Something aboutthistough guy, however, set my teeth on edge. Definitely wasn’t that masculine appeal.
Nope. Not that.
He scowled and shifted the backpack strap. “I would like to use the internet, please.” His voice purred like a lazy cat now.
“Okay.”
Utter silence followed, and I felt his annoyance deepen in the weighty pause. A little guilt for my own intensity trickled through me. My cousin Pele told me I could be ataddefensive, even before anyone said something, and I had a feeling I’d just done that here.
“If you are asking,” I drawled in response to his obnoxious quiet, “if we have internet, the answer is yes. Hot and cold running water too, if you like that kind of modern upgrade, but the outhouse is out back if you need it. Password is on the board.”
If possible, his frown deepened. Ooookay, that attempt at humor certainly didn’t work, which only intensified my frustration.
Tough crowd.
I slapped on my brightest smile. The kind that almost crackled. He seemed to notice the edge of frustration as well because his gaze darkened.
“What can I get you to drink?” I asked.
“Coffee. Straight,” he turned to head toward a table, then added over his shoulder, “and protein.”
I opened my mouth to clarify, but decided not to. He probably operated life using less than twenty words per day. No reason to force him to outdo his quota.
I grabbed a cheese-and-sausage bagel sandwich and tossed it on a plate. Then I reached for a mug off of our wall collection with a picture of a scowling cat on it that felt deliciously passive-aggressive, and slung coffee into it. By the time I worked my way to his table with the requested nourishment, he had his laptop open. Within minutes, he’d sunk deeper into his own foul mood.
Whatta happy pair.
I set the food down, eager to sneak away without a word, but he grabbed my wrist. The gentle burn of his skin zipped straight to my bones. I didn’t know his name, his face, or anything about him.
But with his hot touch that burned like fire, I knew that everything in my life had just changed.
2
BASTIAN
Bastian,
We need to talk.
You’re fighting fires in the forest like a crazy person and have limited availability—I get it. But your career is knocking on the door. It’s time to answer. As your agent, I’m on this ride with you. Your success is my success.
Interview requests have been pouring in from several different avenues. Podcasts, TV stations, some online influencers. In anticipation of launching book #21, we’ve seen sales and traction rising. Your marketing team is actually doing its job, now you need to do yours too.
The stock photo we put up as an author profile photo is soon going to be discovered asnotyou. Eventually, readers will learn that Jess is a single, thirty-something male. I calculate a 62% chance that your hidden career is about to unravel right before we launch into a bestseller slot.
I don’t like those odds.
Growing unrest is noted amongst some of your normally most popular message boards as well, might I add. Only made worse by the constant silence from Jess on social media this summer.
