one idea after another, seemingly endless plots and characters, and now…
Well, we both knew where I was now.
Rather than tell her any of that, I sat patiently, waiting for her to say something, do something, ask something … anything. But we seemed to be engaged in a staring contest, and we both knew who would win.
I would. And I hid my grin when she sighed and steepled her hands in front of her.
New Yorkers, at least those I knew well, were not patient people. They were used to the hustle and bustle, while I, born and raised in the South, could appreciate silence. As for Liz, I was pretty sure she buzzed nonstop.
“I read the first three chapters,” she told me. “They’re good. Really good. The chemistry is there, the sex … gonna be phenomenal, I can tell. But I need more. Tell me about these characters…” Liz looked down at a paper on her desk. “Kora Madison and Donovan Brashwood. What do they do? What are their quirks? Their strengths, their weaknesses?”
It was my turn to sigh.
As much as I didn’t want to do this, I knew I didn’t have much of a choice. I owed it to Liz to give her my full attention, and even if I was pissed at myself, at the lack of inspiration, I figured it couldn’t hurt.
So I opened my mouth and I told her.
Everything.
About the mental block, and how I couldn’t get inspired.
About the notebook, and how I had resorted to handwriting my book.
About the coffee shop, and how I found myself only wanting to be there.
About Presley Abrams, and how I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I let loose, sharing everything with the one woman who would listen because my livelihood and hers were on the line. She needed something from me, and in return, I needed her help.
Now more than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Presley
Ever have that eerie feeling that shit was about to go south?
Well, I’d had it ever since that Saturday when the devil—a.k.a. Adrian Dennis—had popped into my head. I knew there was a reason, knew that it wasn’t simply because I was trying to come up with an excuse as to why Jacob Wild was bad for me.
I’d merely been biding my time, waiting for hell to rain down on me.
It was as though he knew me.
Not Jacob.
Adrian. Gavin’s brother. My ex.
Better known as the lying, cheating bastard.
I would swear that he had a hidden camera feed plugged directly into my life and he knew when to show up out of the blue in order to fuck with my world.
And he did it again today, without warning, without apology.
As I sat on the stool at the front counter of Different by Design, chatting with Blue about how he hated living with his mom and waiting for a walk-in to arrive so I would have something to do, Adrian blasted into my life once again.
And it pissed me off.
“Hey, Pres,” Adrian greeted, that shit-eating smirk plastered on his face as he glanced around the front of the shop, probably checking to see if anything was new or different since he’d last been there, six not-nearly-long-enough months ago. The last time he’d dropped in unexpectedly. “What’s new, babe?”
I wasn’t sure what was new with the shop, but I immediately noticed there wasn’t anything new with Adrian. He was still sporting the long blond hair, the same band T-shirt beneath the leather jacket, the same faded, worn Levi’s and combat boots. He looked every bit the rock star drummer that he was.
“I … uh … I’m gonna run out and get some coffee,” Blue said, drawing my attention toward him.
I nodded.
“Want anything?”
I wanted Adrian to disappear, but I knew that wasn’t the answer Blue was looking for. “Nah. I’m good.”
Blue nodded abruptly, then moved around Adrian on his way out the front door.
I was suddenly grateful that Blaze and Charlie had the day off. Blaze because she would ruthlessly flirt with Adrian in an effort to prove he was a worthless piece of shit. And Charlie because Adrian was on her shit list. Charlie was a very good friend, and though we didn’t spend nearly enough time together these days, she still had my back.
“Hey,” I greeted, hoping he heard the disinterest in my tone.
Adrian glanced behind him, then back to me. “Lookin’ good, babe.”
I frowned at him. “What do you want?”
“You here by yourself?” Adrian peered up the stairs, then toward the back, then over to me.