known that going in, and she knew it now.
“So,” he said, shuttering his gaze and returning his attention to breakfast, “have you always wanted to be a journalist?”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be an author,” she blurted out the words before she could stop herself.
Books were a great escape for her. She loved the ability to get lost within the pages. At some point, she’d started creating her own made-up worlds and characters, where she could control the outcomes. She had several already written, encrypted on her hard drive, unseen by any eyes but her own.
She dropped her eyes, unwilling to see the disappointment in his eyes or the polite smile she was sure he wore. There was a reason she never shared her dream. It was silly.
“What kind of books?”
She looked up to find him waiting patiently for her answer. No indication of derision or judgment. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
He nodded and made an X over his chest.
“Cozy mysteries and paranormal romance.”
“You mean, like Miss Marple meets vampires and werewolves—that kind of thing?”
“Yes, exactly!” she exclaimed, pleased that he understood. “I used to read a lot of Agatha Christie. The woman knew a thing or two about how to weave a web. And I loved her characters. Each time I finished a story, I felt like I knew them.
“Then, the wizard boy who lived and the vampire who sparkled came along, and I loved those, too. They opened up a whole new world of possibilities, and I thought, Why not do both? Combine my love of whodunits with the fantasy world-building of preternaturals.
“And then I thought, Why not even take it a step further?” As it always did, the excitement built inside her when she thought about it, and her words came out faster. “Write a book but create an interactive digital universe, where things change based on the reader. I got the idea when I was rereading one of my favorites. I guess I was in a different frame of mind from the first time I’d read it because I wasn’t as on board with the heroine’s choices, and all I could think of was, What if she’d said or done this instead of that?”
Realizing she was babbling, she reined in her enthusiasm. “I’m sorry. TMI, right?”
“Not at all. Have you looked into how you would go about doing something like that?”
She shook her head, embarrassed. “No. It’s just a silly idea; that’s all. Blue-skying, my cousin Toni calls it. Unlike you, I am not technically inclined, and since I am not independently wealthy, I need to earn an actual living.”
He frowned. “Tell me about Toni.”
“She’s more than family. She’s my best friend,” Bree said truthfully, trying to think of a way to best describe Toni. “Fearless. And a complete nut. I told her I was moving to California, and the first thing she said was, ‘When do we leave?’ ” Bree smiled at the memory. “We lucked out, both getting jobs at the Voice—me in the mailroom, her as a gofer. She’s in research now.”
“She sounds awesome.”
“She is,” Bree confirmed.
Breakfast finished, she stacked the plates and stood. As much as she would like to spend the rest of the day talking—and potentially doing other things—with Nick, there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave.
“Well, I should be going. I have some things I’d like to check out in town before I leave.” She thought briefly of inviting Nick to spend the day doing those things with her but dismissed that idea as well. It wasn’t Sanctuary that was hard to walk away from. It was him.
He stood, too. “I’ll walk you to the lot. It’s not far.”
“Sounds good. Let me just change, so I can give you your clothes back.”
“Keep them, if you want. I’ve got plenty.”
It was tempting. His clothes were roomy and comfortable and didn’t smell like they’d been hanging in a stable. On the other hand, they didn’t exactly convey the kind of professional image she hoped to maintain. Or what little of it remained after her unplanned sleepover.
As a compromise, she kept his shirt, tucking it into her oversize bag—a memento of sorts.
His mood seemed to change when she reappeared, dressed in her own clothes. Gone were the easy smile and mischievous sparkle in his eyes as they made the disappointingly short walk back to the lot.
“When are you flying out?” he asked.
“Late tomorrow night.”
“Do you have