Page 137 of Smoke and Fire
Aface full of wary uncertainty met me at the door.
Bastian peered through a lowered brow, as if he didn’t know what to make of my arrival. I didn’t either.
Behind Bastian, Dagny wore a perplexed expression. Out of sheer nerves, I’d refused her offer to join them at dinner and fidgeted with the edge of my shirt on the porch while Bastian walked to the door. A lovely, late-summer day unfurled at my back, interrupted only by the growing smudge of smoke out on the horizon.
“I’ll take this,” Bastian said to Dagny. “Thanks.”
Dagny filtered back into the house, unspoken questions in her eyes. Hernandez hung back, but gave me a head nod. I returned it with a smile. Bastian shut the door behind him and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. This is . . . sort of stalker-ish.”
A shadow passed over his expression, then disappeared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A shrug came next, and I figured it’s as good as I could expect. All words fled my brain. Like stepping onto a stage and forgetting the lyrics.
“Look, I just . . . I felt like I made the wrong move back there. You really seemed . . . panicked, like you need help. And I felt bad for freaking out on you a bit. In full honesty, I just got out of a tough relationship six months ago and I’m still recovering.”
One of his eyebrows twitched. He studied me with unusual intensity. His weight shifted.
“Does my job offer somehow remind you of the guy?”
“No.”
He blinked, clearly perplexed. Heat flared in my cheeks. How could I explain that I didn’t want to be this near him because I was on track to a massive, walloping crush my heart wasn’t ready for?
It is so ready for him,Inner Me whispered.
“I want to help,” I said to him, just to shut her up. “Can I take it back?
A long silence lay between us.
“I really like your books,” I finally admitted. My gaze lifted to peer at him through my eyelashes. “Too much, maybe. I don’t wantto like them, but I do. That’s what took me by surprise. To be Jess . . . I just . . . I can barely reconcile these books with being you. It just seems so far-fetched. And yet . . . why would you make this up?”
My tone sounded far too much like I still had to convince myself. He leaned back against the house, all casual ease despite a burning hope in his voice.
“If you could help me manage the launch of this book, that would be . . .” He let out a long breath. “Very appreciated. You don’t have to become Jess. Even answering emails would be helpful.”
“Can I answer them as your assistant?”
“Of course.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but stopped. I hadn’t expected a quick capitulation. He clearly wanted me to help him.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m happy to help.”
“Why?”
Somehow, I knew what the question encompassed. Why would I help a total stranger? A huge name in the publishing world that terrified me to even think of knowing in person? My general lackof knowing him? My uneasiness around the topic of relationships in general?
All of them could be answered with one single reply: I had a gut feeling about this guy, haunted terror and all.
“Because I’m here in Pineville to try to find myself after said relationship crashed and burned earlier this year,” I said. “And this seems like an unexpected path worthy of exploring.”
His shoulders deflated like a balloon.
“I’ll take it. Give me half an hour to finish up here and I’ll meet you back at the coffee shop to show you what to do.”
NOT A SINGLE PERSONshowed up to buy coffee and distract me from what I had just done. The void of something to do left me to fidget behind the counter with nothing but my own thoughts to help me pass the time.
Had I just made a huge mistake? No, the mistake wasn’t in helping Bastian. The mistake was picking up those blasted romance novels in the first place. If I hadn’t read them, I would have happily saidyesand all this turmoil about Jakob wouldn’t have followed. My mind wouldn’t have already been thrilled by fantastic love stories in the first place.
