Page 24 of Playing to Win

“Oh.” Friends of the guy I’ve slammed on my blog. “Oh. I see.”

Sarah laughs. “We know about your run-in, but it can’t have been that bad since Brooks told us you were here signing tonight. He said we should come down.”

I feel my brow furrow. “He did? Why would he do that?” My curiosity is quickly wiped out by the realization that Brooks sent people to see me. They aren’t really here because they wanted to meet me and buy my book.

Sarah juts out a hand to my shoulder. “That doesn’t mean we don’t love your work, though. I genuinely bounce around my apartment to your videos.”

Becky closes the hardback in her hands. “And I really am going to steal some of these recipes.”

I force a smile, knowing it comes on only one side of my mouth. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, if you’re in the city for a while, we should all do coffee or brunch,” Sarah says.

Becky nods. “I’d love that.”

Sarah scribbles her number on a receipt she pulls from her purse. “Drop me a line if you find some spare time.”

When I’m alone, I start to sign the remaining books from the tabletop and the box beneath. I carry them to the cashier’s desk and head out to Fifth Avenue. Despite the warm air, I wrap my jacket tight around me and walk with my arms across my stomach. I could really use a hug.

I walk. And walk. Weaving between streets and people. I keep walking until my kitten heels are hurting the balls of my feet.

Tonight was not a success. I sold books but basically all thanks to Brooks Adams, who doesn’t even like me.

I stop dead in my tracks. If he doesn’t like me, why did he send those women to see me? It makes no sense. He was so sharp with me. He seemed like such a dick. Admittedly, one hot, hot, hot dick but a dick nonetheless.

How did he even know I was in Barnes & Noble? Oh my God, did he see me? Did he see me sitting alone, not signing any books, looking like a complete failure? Did he send those women out of pity?

Perhaps he reads my blog. Would he read my blog?

Oh fuck!My blog.

I pull my iPhone from my handbag and dial Kerry. “Kerry, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to put out the blog. If that’s what it takes to sell books, I don’t want—”

“Too late, chica. It went live nineteen minutes ago.”

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